Fate: Unbalanced Scales
by SomeWritingGuy
Summary: Become a Hero of Justice or protect his family? A question one man confidently answered each time it was asked. When the war he had been preparing his entire life for finally arrives, the question changes into a choice: Be the monster everyone believes him to be or watch his family die one by one. [Pre F/Z to post F/SN]
1. Dreams

**EDIT: I am the happiest editor right now since I am able to announce that every chapter in this story has been edited as of today,**

 **Also welcome to Berix's editing corner, where I throw whatever random thoughts I have/had while editing.**

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 **So uh... This is my first time writing a fan fiction so any suggestions are welcomed. The plan for this is to go through the time before Fate/Zero with... Certain changes, and then carry on into Fate/Stay Night. I hope you all like it!**

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The full moon shone through the clouds above. Snow gently fell to the already blanketed forest floor, and the pallid light of the moon made the snow glitter as if it were crushed gemstones. An eerie silence hung in the air, something which almost clung to the skin and threatened to suffocate - although, that may have just been the surrounding magical barrier.

Above the trees, through the snow, the silhouette of a grand castle loomed - cold, impersonal stone walls and chilly blue slate peaks. Although opulent and of wonderful architecture, it radiated something of a heartless origin. A large arched window was illuminated with flickering yellow light. A candle, revealing someone was at work within. Inside: A man, or what could be called a man, with neck length gray hair and a beard split at the chin, laboured over some sort of journal. It was not hard to determine that this man was the source of the impressive magical barrier surrounding the castle.

Through the window of the next floor, a couple slept together within a luxurious bed. One, a beautiful ivory-skinned European woman with hair as white as the falling snow outside. The other, a dark-haired, sharp-featured Asian man. In terms of appearances, they could not be any more different. The only similarity they had would be that of the moonlight gracing their forms. Breaking the silence of the night, the man uncoiled himself from his lover and continued sleeping on his back, face twisted in an indescribable blend of emotions.

Within his mind, a dream, a nightmare.

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Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. Ribs that had been shattered were forming into solid pieces automatically, same as his spine. His entire body boiled to the point of absently steaming in the cool air of the room. His heart pained with each beat as if it was brand new and adjusting to the effort imposed upon it. Stubbornly he stood, still holding his Thompson Contender upright. The barrel was smoking, although he didn't remember firing it. Even without context for how he had arrived at this point, he knew the man standing ahead of him was the cause for this pain. Messy uncombed brown hair, cold dark eyes - one of which was bloodshot - and a crucifix. At least this battle wasn't one-sided. The priest had blood trickling from above his left eye and his right arm from hand to elbow had been destroyed by a bullet. Only now did he notice how much breathing caused him pain. So this priest was the origin for such severe injury?

Only after asking this question did the dark-haired man notice the state of himself. Rather, not the 'himself' who was fighting this priest, but the 'himself' who was viewing this battle. He wasn't real. He was a spirit, an onlooker, viewing this fight from the sidelines. He could not directly act but could watch and feel. This was why the feeling of fear radiating off his physical copy came as a surprise. The priest gasped as a black blur was suddenly upon him. The Thompson Contender was held by its warm barrel, blunt handle coming down to strike the priest's head. With quick thinking, the holy man's disabled arm was brought to block the strike. Through a grimace and groan of pain, the blow was halted but only for a brief moment. His body bent backwards to avoid a knife blade aimed for his face. The second strike was deflected by a push to the physical copy's elbow, forcing the blade high. In a pivot, their positions were rotated and a flurry of knife strikes were rained down. Each one was deflected by a single controlled movement of the hand. The spirit watched their physical copy's face strain with... Rage. It was not stress from keeping up the attack, but anger that the priest was winning. The priest kicked out the dark-haired man's foot and reared back a fist to strike. His victory was assured until a movement faster than humanly possible left the physical copy's head grazing below the priest's fist. The spectator recognized the technique as the Emiya crest magic. Emiya, the dark-haired man, kicked off the priest and threw the blade in his hand during the same motion. It found purchase by embedding itself in the priest's lower right leg. With some distance between the two, Emiya reloaded the Contender. Leveling the weapon, he found four long blades - black keys - arcing towards him, two to each side. Ahead was the priest with a fist full of four more lunging directly forward. The finger around the trigger tightened and…

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With a gasp, he sat upright in bed. Sweat beading down his forehead and his hands clenching so tight his fingers broke the skin of his palms. He shivered, and for some reason, he couldn't rid himself of a nervous jitter. He knew it had all been a nightmare, but that feeling of fear refused to remove itself. Even with one arm that priest had defended himself against him moving at double speed. Were his close combat skills outmatched that greatly?

"Kirei Kotomine." The dark haired man, Emiya, whispered to the still air of his room. Before warm, smooth arms wrapped around his shoulders he hardly noticed how cold the room was. Tentatively, he placed his own hand on the arm of his lover. The nervous jitters faltered as her warmth spread through his cold skin.

"Who is Kirei Kotomine?" a soft voice asked into his ear. With a turn of his head, he met unnatural crimson eyes and a wide, sleepy smile. Those lips suddenly came forward to capture his surprised mouth, finally snapping him from his daze.

He blinked several times, features softening as he realized where he was. "I…I don't know, but I believe…" He paused once more, considering if he should tell his lover where his thoughts roamed. That priest would kill him in that fight, that much Emiya could tell from the dream. If nothing else, they would kill each other in the same strike. But should his wife, Iri, carry that burden? "I believe he is the man who kills me," Emiya finished, deciding his, and the world's, Fate.

Initially surprised, Iri's features suddenly split into a soft smile. "Kiritsugu, it was just a dream. I know you won't die in the war, you can't," she stated, words soft but carrying with them an unyielding faith to her spouse. The dark-haired man, Kiritsugu, chuckled wearily, turning back to peer into the darkness of the room.

"Iri, something about that dream was… It was no ordinary dream. It showed me the end of the Grail War, or the end of my Grail War. I need to prepare." He muttered the last part, gently removing Iri's arm before standing from the bed and moving to put some pants on. Even though she would sleep alone, she understood that Kiritsugu worked in his own way and that allowing him to leave would be the best thing for him. As such, she wouldn't complain. She watched him dress, light a cigarette and silently move out of the room. When the door clicked shut, she sighed and returned to lying down.

"You can't die, for then our dream will never become reality," she muttered through a frown to the darkness before returning to her own dreams.

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The room was filled with a light haze of cigarette smoke. During his time at the Einzbern castle he had stopped smoking in consideration of his wife and daughter, but after that dream… The stress and anxiety was too great and he needed the reprieve. He had been up all night reaching out to contacts. The only goal was to find out about this Kirei Kotomine before the Grail War actually started. Hell, he had to summon his own servant. He could only hope King Arthur wouldn't attempt to murder him for his tactics, would the honourable King of Knights allow the ends to justify the means? That was why he wanted Iri to accompany his servant. Two stubborn men with antithetical views on how to conduct themselves were bound to cause trouble. He took a long drag on his cigarette and stared absently at the landline.

But that would be years from now. The Grail War was believed to start in 1995. It was only 1991, albeit December; he still had four years. Four years to learn about his death - about Kirei Kotomine. That dream had shaken him more than he was comfortable to admit. The fear he had felt whilst gazing into that priest's eyes was unnerving. Something in his mind told him that the priest was the embodiment of what he wanted to stop with his wish. Earlier in the year, he had sent out calls to discover potential members of the Grail War. Dossiers would be compiled when the information was gathered. Most of the candidates hadn't even been selected by the grail yet but it was good to keep a lookout. However, this man, the priest, became a priority. Kiritsugu reached far back in his black book to pull out more contacts. If the priest went to the bathroom, the time and the action would be recorded. If that dream had been the result of his normal preparation, Kiritsugu would only have to prepare more to avoid the scenario completely, or simply target the priest before… But then could that dream be the result of a hasty attempt at assassination? He needed more information, more context. He couldn't kill the priest too early, as then the grail would select another master. The unknown could be far worse than what he was already dealing with. But waiting may be the wrong choice. His mind started doubting itself; where to begin? At what point would the hypotheticals end? As he was losing his composure, the phone rang and it almost teleported into his hand.

The voice on the other line was dead. Emotionless just like Emiya himself, it didn't wait for a greeting. "Kirei Kotomine, twenty-four years old, executor and member of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. Attended the St. Ignatius school of Divinity Manresa, skipped two years, returned to graduate as valedictorian and suddenly left the seminary. This abandonment seems to be a trend, more details in the dossier. His father is Risei Kotomine, Overseer of the Third Grail War and potential Overseer of this coming Grail War. No command seals. I'll compile the info and send it when I can. Hopefully, that will sate your appetite," the man on the other end recited before disconnecting the call without waiting for a response.

Kiritsugu put out the smouldering cigarette, mulling over the information before setting the phone back in its receiver with a click. As he thought of a new number to call, the door to his office creaked open and a feather-like voice squeaked in.

"Daddy?" A cough, most likely due to the smoke. He cursed himself for resuming the vice. He had only just returned to it and it had already caused his daughter discomfort. "Daddy? Mommy said you were here." In a start, he stood and moved to the door. A genuine smile was spread across his sharp features. In the partly opened door was a girl around six years old. She was a carbon copy of his wife, Iri, only smaller in scale. Wearing a purple dress with white skirting, she stood out from the bland colours of the castle.

"Illya, good morning," Kiritsugu responded. He pulled open the door and stepped outside with his daughter, kneeling after entering the hallway with clean air. "What are you doing up so early? Did you want to go outside and play?" he asked. Whenever he spoke to his daughter, his eyes seemed oddly warm. His voice was a tone lighter and his shoulders seemed to relax. It was nothing compared to the rigid, cold and unfeeling stone which normally took the name Kiritsugu.

She nodded enthusiastically, throwing her hands behind her back and making an "Uh-huh" sound for extra confirmation. With a chuckle, Kiritsugu stood and ran a hand through her hair. He stretched out the same hand for her to grab and towed her towards the exit.

"Then let's get going, later you can read with your mother alright?" he said, leading her along the turn-filled corridors. Illya made a noise of elated surprise before launching into a childish bout of subjectless talking. All the while, Kiritsugu was beaming like each word was a gift.

That evening, Kiritsugu stared out a large window in his room, lit cigarette in his mouth. He was deep in thought, considering options, contacts, tactics. Kirei was dangerous, but he was just another magus. Kiritsugu was the Magus Killer, unconventional means to kill unconventional targets. His plans for the War already involved Maiya, there would just need to be a slight adjustment in the duration of her use. He would need to fly to Japan and prepare for the priest. He need only watch out for the Overseer, however that was trivial.

"When you think about your work it gets hard to tell the difference between your face and the castle walls," came a soft voice from behind him. Arms snaked their way around his waist and a weight pressed against his back. It was Iri, come to comfort him again. They sat embraced in silence for a moment until Kiritsugu sighed heavily.

"I need to return to Fuyuki. Maiya and I will prepare to handle the priest before he becomes a nuisance," he stated, tone an obvious statement towards an unwavering decision.

She twitched against him; the thought of him leaving must have been the cause. Unbeknownst to him, it was actually the mention of Maiya. She snuggled against him tighter afterwards, however. "I understand. You must do what you have to for our victory."

"I'll be away for a year at most. I'll return every so often to check up on you and Illya. I…" He choked up, hands clenching around the window sill. "Iri… We can leave, leave Germany and Acht, forget the War, take Illya and build a home somewhere nobody can get to us. That dream… That dream showed my death, I know it. If we carry on we… I..." He trailed off, both hands were clenched around the window sill with eyes shut tight. Iri only held on tighter, she knew that Kiritsugu had nothing but hardship behind and ahead of him, little comforts like herself were all that she could offer.

"Kiritsugu, you and I both know that you wouldn't accept that route. We would leave and eventually, you would be crippled with guilt." She paused, shutting her eyes with a sad smile. "You would kill yourself, and leave Illya and I alone. Going through with the Grail War is the only way to truly rid yourself of the burden you've been carrying your whole life." She squeezed as tight as she could, definitely not enough to hurt the Magus Killer, perhaps just enough to let him know she was still there.

A harsh creak of the door - again - separated the two, with Iri moving to see who their visitor was. It was Illya, holding a brightly coloured stuffed fish tight in her arms. She wore a rather plain white nightgown for children. "Mommy? Daddy? I had a nightmare… Can I sleep with you?" she asked, beaming up at her mother who had knelt to offer a hug.

"Of course, schatz, come climb into bed." She motioned, standing and taking her daughter's hand. Kiritsugu had put out his cigarette and moved to the side of the bed. When Illya neared, he lifted her up by the waist and let her crawl into a comfortable spot. The family settled into bed and slept through the night peacefully.

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In the morning, Kiritsugu said farewell to his wife and child. His plane ticket was rushed for that evening, it would be better to get his work over as soon as possible than delay it. After explaining to Illya why he was leaving, giving her another plush toy and promising to return soon, he entered the car rented for his trip to the airport and departed from the Einzbern castle. In the car, he used the phone to call Maiya. It rang once before being picked up. "Have you gathered what we need?" he asked simply.

"Yes. As well as the extra supplies you asked for. I've monitored our area of interest and the information we've received has been proven correct. There should be little problem with our plan," she replied coolly. She didn't even question if their supposed plan would be the most effective. She had absolute faith in Kiritsugu's tactics.

"Good, I'll speak to you next after I arrive." He finished the communication, placing the phone back in its holder and returning his main focus to driving. The following events went accordingly: The fake passport allowed him entry, the plane boarding went as scheduled and his landing in Japan went as well as could be expected - nothing out of the ordinary. After renting a new car, this time of slightly lower quality than the one back in Germany, Kiritsugu made his way to the hotel where Maiya was waiting.

An unlit cigarette in his mouth, Kiritsugu knocked on the wooden door. One burst of three, a break, a single, another pause, then one burst of two. The door creaked open, Maiya's cold eyes making themselves apparent. Upon recognizing him, she opened it, let him through, then checked the hall for tails before closing the door quietly and locking it tight. She had been waiting at the door for his arrival - it had only been three hours of standing. The hotel room was done in tan, a monotonous bland colour. The curtains over the window - which were of thin material - let in brown tinted sunlight, further shading the room. It was a twin room, and both beds were covered with weaponry - pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles, grenades, ammunition. The majority of the supplies, however, were explosives. Bricks of Semtex and boxes of det-cord. On top of it all sat two paging devices, most likely the triggers they would be using. Of all of the objects, the most expensive would be the sniper rifle still sat in its case - a Walther WA 2000 which had been a frequently used rifle back in Kiritsugu's Magus Killer days. In the dim light of the room, he lit his smoke and verified the supplies on hand.

"Trouble gathering?"

"No."

"Monitoring the church?"

"Yes."

"Risei Kotomine has not left?"

A nod.

"Undetected?"

Another.

"Good."

"Divide the explosives into quarters and load them into bags. This should be more than enough to ensure that Kirei Kotomine is the first master to die. We'll move and establish the setup over four weeks. Moving four days in a row would arise suspicion, the more we spread it out the less chance for detection there will be. We only move during the night." He paused to inhale the wondrous, deadly smoke into his lungs. "Schematics? The entire area needs to be a kill-zone. No injuries possible," he surmised, turning to find the paper he sought on the desk behind him. Load-bearing supports were marked with red X's, rooms and possible gatherings circled in white. The church acted as a live-in place of work complete with bedroom, living room, the main gathering hall, even a basement complete with a cellar. The explosive locations would collapse the church in on itself using demolition charges, while high explosives would blow out the walls and increase lethality along the perimeter of the church both inside and out. Even a magus couldn't survive some things unprepared.

With four years until the Grail War, a slight structural enhancement would be required to preserve the explosive material. A magus would only discover it should they know precisely what they were looking for. And who would expect someone to bomb a church?

"You are much more composed, Kiritsugu," Maiya stated, causing the man in question to look at her with confusion and surprise. Understanding his emotions, she clarified. "You're back to your old self. This plan of yours proves that much. I'm glad." Something like a smile appeared on her face. Not quite sure how to respond, Kiritsugu composed himself and moved to begin packing bags. There was nothing to say. Maiya had always desired one thing, and that was to serve Kiritsugu however possible.

… … ...

That night and sporadic nights of the next ten weeks after were spent planting explosives throughout the church. Some nights their plans had to be scrapped because of late night visitors, too many potential witnesses in the area or just Risei staying up later than expected. Maiya was used as an undercover agent, pretending to be a simple church-goer looking for salvation. Of course, her true role was to plant explosives within the church at key points. However, this also extended the time taken. Frequent visits by foreigners was suspicious on its own. All in all, more than forty pounds of Semtex were distributed throughout the structure. Det-cord had also been wired into and throughout the church as well. It may have seemed excessive, but the durability of the man in his dream had been astonishing. Kiritsugu would accept nothing less than a guaranteed death. He assisted Maiya with putting away their weaponry. It had not been used this time, however good maintenance and a count of what was on hand was always a healthy practice. He said his farewells to Maiya, then took the rented car to a small market to buy a new handcrafted plush for Illya. It was…well, it was something. A squishy round…bear? It had tiny ears and a cute stitched face at least. As he was settling payment with the merchant, a strange voice of a young girl came from behind.

"Wow! These are so cute! I wish I could have one!" The voice was packed with childish energy. A brief glance revealed a small girl, older than Illya, looking fondly at the squishy animal balls Kiritsugu had just bought. Brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a typical school uniform: White button up shirt with a brown vest, a red bow and a black skirt. She was trying to stand on her toes to see better into the stall. Were her eyes sparkling as she looked over the toys? The woman behind the counter smiled warmly at the child. She opened her mouth to speak but turned upon hearing the smacking of shoes. Running down the street were two men who were very clearly fed up with the current situation. They were each wearing well-made suits and would look rather respectable if the arms hadn't been rolled up to reveal numerous tattoos common to the Yakuza. They spotted the girl at the stall and cast glances at one another before running behind her, one to each side like they were blocking her escape.

"Taiga, you can't run off like that! Your grandfather told us to watch over you." One of them spoke up. The odd inflection put on 'grandfather' was strange, but speech patterns differed greatly in everyone. Kiritsugu turned, glaring impassively at one of the thugs with hollow eyes.

The girl, Taiga apparently, sighed heavily. "I'm thirteen. I don't need babysitters." Her arms were crossed over her front. When she actually opened her eyes after nobody responded, she found her supposed babysitters glaring menacingly at the man beside her. They seemed rather tense, was it because of him?

Taking a glance at the man in question, she lost her train of thought. He was incredibly handsome, something about his face was just… Well, like… God he was good looking. She supposed there was also... Wisdom? Was it wisdom she saw in his eyes? She blinked several times, unaware of the visual battle the three men around her were conducting. After what must have been ten seconds of staring between all four of them, Taiga spoke up.

"Hey mister, I haven't seen you around here before… Did you just move into the neighbourhood?" she asked, rose blush finding its way to her face. Even though she managed to ask that, she felt like speaking any more was impossible. Speaking coherently, anyway. When the man turned to look down at her, she felt lightheaded. What was wrong with her?

His mouth parted, features softening and eyes blinking a couple of times before they returned to their default. It was like he recognized her, but actually mistook her for another. "No, I'm actually just visiting on business." She deflated slightly at his reply. She had hoped he would stick around. He looked tough, maybe old man Raiga would have hired him on. That way she could have had an excuse to hang around him. He actually made a small smile at her disappointment. She didn't know whether to feel angry or happy that he found enjoyment in her reaction. "But you seem like a good girl. If I buy you a toy, will you go along with your…brothers?" he asked, pausing to look up at the aforementioned brothers with a dark glare.

Her mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. The blush on her face darkened and it made the man chuckle. "H-hey! They aren't my brothers!" she shouted, sheepishly looking downwards.

Her outburst only made him laugh more. He turned back to the stall and asked her which toy she would like. Without hesitating, she pointed towards the tiger. Unlike the bear the man had in his hand, the tiger had a poofy tail on one end, and a fierce looking face. The shopkeeper picked it from above and handed it to Taiga. Her motions were much stiffer since the arrival of the two Yakuza thugs. She was continually glancing between them, Kiritsugu and Taiga.

"Thank you…" she lead on, hoping he would fill in the blanks. He did, giving his name, and she subconsciously tightened her hold on the stuffed toy. "That's a cool name!"

"Not as cool as yours," he shot back with a smile, looking towards the thugs who were shuffling uncertainty. "I'm sorry, but I'll need to get going. Taiga, it was very nice meeting you." And just like that, he was moving away.

"Huh?! But- oh… Fine. But if you ever come back you should visit me. Remember okay? Taiga Fujimura!" she shouted, glancing towards the two babysitters who loomed around her like dog catchers. In a sharp movement, she slipped between the two men. Their hands narrowly missed her shoulders, and they both crashed into one another with a pair of grunts. Just like that, she was off and running.

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As Kiritsugu was driving to the airport, the car phone rang. Answering it swiftly, the now-familiar voice of his hired informant for Kirei spoke. "I've been trying for days now, you're a hard man to reach." A brief sigh. "Claudia Hortensia, Kirei's wife, has killed herself. The room we bugged revealed an... Interesting exchange between the two. I believe you will want to hear it. Transcripts being delivered personally to the Einzbern castle."

For the first time in their interactions, Kiritsugu spoke. "Why call?" was all he said. This was unusual, that little amount of information could be summarized over fax, there was no reason to directly call.

"Kirei Kotomine has entered the Grail War with command seals."

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 **There you have it! The start of this tale. The timeline for Fate is... Sketchy, at best. So I'm doing all I can to keep it as close to canon as possible. I've done some tweaking though. This first chapter is pretty short. It's mostly because I want to see how it's received and test the waters. So post those reviews!**

 **According to one of the more known scales, Illya was born in 1983, which would make her 21 in the events of Stay Night - But Kiritsugu is 29 at the start of the Fourth Grail War. That makes NO sense to me, since he's supposed known Maiya for 11 years, and would mean he was 17 when he had Illya. Anyway - The timeline is screwed up.**  
 **Plan is to have Kiritsugu around 30-something. Illya will be 19 or something in Stay Night and I'll proceed from there. Also in the next chapter, there will be a pretty large difference since I'll be deciding on a character for point of view and such.**

 **Besides that, write a review! Lets me know what needs fixing and if you guys are enjoying it so far! Also, I can answer any questions you may have.**


	2. The Beginning of the End

**EDIT: Bone puns are rapidly becoming some of the most humerus jokes I've ever heard and if any of you have a problem with that then I've got a bone to pick with you. -The Editor who had to edit half of this story.**

 **I got a review commenting that the war begins in 1994, not 1991 (or now 1992) and I know that. But this is pre-zero, when Kiritsugu has ample time to prepare for a dangerous target. When he learns about new masters just before the war, any action he could have taken would have been too suspicious. Be patient, I'll be getting to the good stuff soon.**

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He had missed his flight. The news sent chills down his back. If he were completely honest with himself, his faith in that dream had only been around seventy percent. Still, it was best to prepare and have no use for it, then not prepare and wish you had. With cigarette in hand, Kiritsugu ran over the schematics of the church. Regardless of how many times his eyes ran over the details, he couldn't quite grasp what he was seeing, or what he had planned next. He cast the map to the side, leaned back in his seat and pulled heavily on his cigarette. With closed eyes, he focused on breathing. Mind frazzled from the news, from the truth behind his dreams, he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

At the end of his smoke, he sat back up and flicked the butt out the window. With newfound clarity, he continued driving towards the airport. At this point, he had done all the preparation he could… At least, in Fuyuki. The old saying was that "old dogs can't learn new tricks." But this old dog would have to learn new tricks - if only to gain an edge.

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Back in Germany, Kiritsugu was greeted by a missile named Illya. The only way to stop it was with hugs and the round plush he had bought back in Japan. With comments on its cuteness, it was added to her collection.

"I met a girl in Fuyuki, much older than you but nice in her own way. I think you and her would have made good friends." He said, hefting Illya onto his shoulders.

"Really? Do you think she could come visit us sometime?" She asked, trying to lean forward and into her father's eyes.

Through a chuckle, "I don't think so Illya, but maybe in a few years when you're older we can go visit her." Her white hair fell down over his own, blending the two opposite colours. His words made the small girl gasp in happy surprise. Irisviel waited for the two from their room, wide smile across her face. She truly was his only love. It was why this news would be so hard to deliver to her. He contemplated not revealing it to her at all but argued with himself that her not knowing - would decrease her efficiency in the coming War.

"Daddyy-" Came a whiney noise from above.

"Ah, sorry Illya, I got lost in my own thoughts," Kiritsugu admitted sheepishly, gently kicking open the front door to the castle.

"I wanted to see if you would show me how to do magic!" She almost shouted, voice echoing throughout the castle halls.

Kiritsugu scowled, brow furrowing in frustration. "Illya, where did you hear something like that?" He asked, voice perhaps a tad too forceful. Her whole life, he had tried to keep Illya away from magic. This would be the last Grail War, she would have no reason to know. There would be no point in teaching her something which would be useless in the near future. However…

"Uncle Acht was talking to mommy about spells and healing magic… I was listening from outside the door, I'm sorry." She sounded like a kicked dog, pulling on Kiritsugu's heart.

Acht, that useless pile of- "Illya, you won't have a need more magic. Mommy and I are going to make it so we can live together as a family. We just need a bit more time, a few years, alright?" Maybe teaching Illya basic magic wouldn't hurt, if he… If that dream were to occur, teaching her now would prepare her for later.

She didn't seem as scorned now. "Oh, well if you, me and mommy can live together then I guess I don't need to know about that stuff."

At the sound of that, his features softened greatly. "Promise me you will try to avoid Acht from now on, alright?" He asked, climbing the grand staircase to the second floor.

"Wait you're not mad that I was listening in on mommy?" She asked, confused about his comment. He shook his head with a chuckle.

"It just means you take after me. Listening in to conversations is never wrong, just don't tell the one you're listening in on." He instructed through a smirk. She made an appreciative 'oh' and started humming while they neared Kiritsugu's room.

Upon entering, he kneeled to let his daughter down, suddenly picking her back up by waist to have a family sized hug. "Welcome back Kiritsugu, is everything in place?" She asked, smiling whilst running a hand through her daughter's hair.

"I have, the plan has changed again. I'll go over it with you later." He responded with a straight face. He leaned in slightly to kiss his wife, finding the path interrupted by Illya's plush.

"No kissing, that's gross." She stated, getting a laugh from her parents much to her confusion.

That evening Kiritsugu wrote up plans and a timeline while waiting for his informant. Iri was sitting quietly on a chair watching him work.

"... where our secondary base is positioned which we can move to should the need arise. Since we have you… We can decide where the Holy Grail will be created. The most advantageous position would be... " He paused, surveying the map. "Here, in the Shinto region." Beneath his pointed finger, was the Fuyuki Civic Center. "Its position minimizes risk of total bombardment, the interior is empty due to the relocation. It also features cramped hallways and large open spaces, so we can change up the tactics as needed." His eyes seemed to darken, and his voice hardened. " When you become the Grail, that position should provide us with the greatest advantage over the competition." He summarized, leaving out a wide variety of details he had in mind. Namely, the one where he set up explosives throughout the center to destroy the grail should things go awry. But that was only if they were to relocate and had long enough to fortify the position. Throughout their planning, he had neglected to mention his activities in Fuyuki. He wouldn't lie to Iri, but he wasn't going to spill every secret to her. It was unlikely she would ever ask a question regarding what his work enta-

"How does what you and Maiya did in Fuyuki assist in these plans?" She asked, smiling face entirely innocent.

He stiffened, relaxed and then circled the church on the crude map he constructed. "Maiya and I deployed over forty pounds of explosives within the old church. Activated by remote detonators, they will kill Kirei Kotomine before he can become a nuisance."

Iri gasped slightly at the reveal, and Kiritsugu a sharp pain upon seeing the look in her eyes. She seemed… Disappointed. "You believe Kirei to go near the church of the Overseer during the course of the War? But that goes against the rules. Unless you believe that he will lose his servant early and seek refuge. But.." She trailed off, the possibilities of Kirei _not_ being at the church began to outweigh the possibility that he would. "How can you be so sure?" She asked finally, standing slowly.

With a sigh, Kiritsugu moved to the fax machine and withdrew the printed dossier. "Rules don't matter in a battle such as this. From what I've gathered, Kirei is a pawn. A pawn which follows his father devotedly. Alongside that, he has no whims or aspirations, no wish. His colleagues have commented on his hollow nature. My best guess is Kirei and his father Risei, will work together, perhaps with another master to secure victory. The question of who and if it will result in betrayal are all that matter." He paused, contemplating lighting a cigarette he had deftly pulled from within his coat. When he had withdrawn it, Iri had scowled and took a step back. With it still in his hands, he crushed it and threw it to the side. Her scowl lessened, but she didn't step forward. "In my dream, that priest had overwhelming close combat prowess. Nothing I could do would even threaten to break his guard. If not for Avalon, my heart would have exploded in the first strike." He handed her the dossier so that she could read about the man herself. Already, it neared a dozen pages of information. From his background to what he was currently doing, to what he would go on to do in the future.

Her eyes widened as she read through the first few pages, which held the more prevalent information on who Kirei Kotomine was. "This is the man you seen in your dreams?" She paused, flipping over a stapled page. "I can see why you've set up traps…" She mumbled.

"I've also called in some favours to receive more training. It's become apparent that I need to develop a new edge to my skills. Something that can catch even that priest off guard. If I train here, within the castle, knowledge of it should not become public. I'll convince Acht to allow entry to one more." He surmised, moving his hand to a corner of the paper map they had been making plans on. Silently, the paper rapidly combusted into lingering ashes. "Now to find a mentor above my own skill." He chuckled darkly.

His head snapped upwards as the door to his office swung open. In the frame stood an average woman. She appeared similar to Iri, only her hair was hidden beneath a sort of maid garb. One wide strand stuck out to partially cover one eye. With rigid, almost robotic movements, she stepped quietly into the room and bowed deeply. "Master Kiritsugu, your attention is required at the front gate."

With one hand stuck in his pocket, he admired a large portrait of Jubstacheit von Einzburn. "Ahaah… I bit too formal, rather tacky and plain unsightly but there's love from the painter in this." He commented, scratching his chin appreciatively. "Yes, yes. All in all, a grand castle with tacky furnishings. Quite something, you'd expect the venerable Einzburn's to actually _hire_ someone to make their home something respectable. Shame to see such a thing go to waste but what is, will be." He rambled on, plodding slowly along the expansive entrance hall just… Poking things. As if sensing a watchful eye, he turned to give a closed-eye cryptic smile. His mouth ran from ear to ear and unfortunately, that was no joke. A zig-zag scar ran from the corners of his mouth to the bottoms of his ears. Indents and marks of bad stitch work clearly evident in the skin. Beyond that, he was extremely well dressed and could have been a decent looking young man were it not for the scar. Shined dress shoes complemented a full three-piece suit. Unlike the shoes, the suit was a dull matte black. It worked well for his cutting visage. His hair was shaved close, with small designs cut into the flesh of his head. They were a dull pink shade, standing out through his black hair. Along the bottom of his face, was a medium length beard, trimmed to be slightly pointed. Even though his eyes were closed, they seemed to track Kiritsugu as he moved to, and down, the stairway.

"Mister Emiya, what a pleasure to meet you in person. Had the information been less sensitive this meeting could have been less formal or avoided altogether." With a sharp movement, he extended his hand forward for Kiritsugu to shake. The action actually made him jump at the sudden nature of it. With that jerking motion, came a sudden rigidity that made his body more akin to a taut bowstring. It looked more like someone shoved a large rod up his a-

"Samuel Downs. Your name thankfully does no-"

"Call me Smiles." He interrupted in a suddenly stern tone lacking the respectful joy it once had. His eyes had shot open, and the wide smile he had been giving turned into a slight scowl. After a brief silence, he returned to the grim smirk.

Kiritsugu blinked, jaw clenching unconsciously. "Smiles, you have information to relay? Accompany me to a more secure room." Kiritsugu stated, business taking precedence over niceties.

The two men returned to Emiya's office and as an added precaution, Kiritsugu set up a quick bounded field. It would prevent anyone from eavesdropping. Not that many lived in the castle, but he wouldn't want them hearing things prematurely, or misinterpreting details.

Smiles admired the room, mainly the expanse of books behind the oaken desk. He even whistled upon nearing the computer and fax machine. "Must have taken some convincing, a deal with the devil and two goats to get that stubborn old fart to bring in a computer." He laughed. The sound was full bellied but each cackle had a sickly underlay to it. Eventually, the man found his way to a chair, settling down and clasping his hands within his knees.

"As my accomplice informed you, Kirei Kotomine's wife took her own life. Almost immediately after, command seals etched themselves onto his hand. Three of them which looked like a splashing wave or something. Oh, wait, I got pictures right here." He said, reaching into a breast pocket to withdraw folded, black and white candid pictures of the man in question. On his hand was as described. Three distinct sections of a whole. One large crashing section or wave, a circular portion, and a segmented 'splash' between the two. They were command seals or an extremely convincing tattoo. "Now the juicy part." His smirk widened. He reached into the other breast pocket and withdrew a cassette tape. With a flick of the wrist, it was airborne. With a snap just as quick, Kiritsugu took hold and glanced it over. There was silence as the Asian man opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a tape player. Sliding it in, he made the good practice of pressing rewind before pressing play. The static of ambient noise filled the room…

... ... ...

... ... ...

... ... ...

The ticking of a clock, the silent whispers, the distant beeps of heart rate monitors in the next wing. Kirei could almost hear the blood moving through his heart with each beat. How long had he been sitting in wait, forty minutes? An hour? The doctors had forced him to the waiting room when he had arrived, complications they had said. The question was why. He wished to be within the room with her during these "complications". He would be with his wife in her final moments. So that he could watch her suffer, so he could watch her squirm with the pain, with the realization that her moments on Earth were coming to an end. He secretly wished for Caren to be there as well, to see her grieve over her mother's oncoming death. All of the terrible emotions would be such a satisfying experience. It would serve as a fitting scene for the end of his life as well.

Yes indeed, he had planned some time in advance to kill himself after his wife's demise. Yet was that such an unreasonable response? He didn't believe so. His life was unjust, far from pious and verging on absolute sin. He was empty, a shell, searching desperately for something to fill that absence. So far, only another's pain and suffering would suffice. As his self-reflection grew heated, the doctor in charge of his wife's condition came forward. The medic informed him that this would probably be the last time he would be able to speak with her. Kirei nodded and entered the room where his admittedly beautiful wife lay looking even weaker than she had on previous visits. Upon seeing him, a smile weakly spread across her face. The smile was genuine as it reached her eyes - or eye in her case. Weeks ago, her body had consumed her own eye in its desperate attempt at survival. As such, one eye - the right - was covered with a cloth bandage. Her white hair, which almost blended into her skin, was sprayed across the linen sheets, pieces sticking together from an immune system activated sweat.

"Kirei.. My poor Kirei." She paused to cough. Her voice was a rasping whisper, and her coughs sounded far from healthy, a visceral wet noise from the lungs. Kirei didn't say a word, but he moved to kneel and rest his weight on the hospital bed. Without his knowing, tears began to form in his eyes. Claudia rested a weak hand on Kirei's face, shushing him although he had not said a word. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been a better wife." She laughed then, a hollow hopeless noise which actually _excited_ the priest.

"Claudia, I must be honest with you." Kirei began. As usual, his voice was more unmoving than solid steel. "I married you as an experiment." He paused a beat, allowing that statement to sink in. "I have never loved you, even from the beginning. Even now, my tears originate because I will not be the one to kill you. I have only ever derived happiness from the agony of others." He paused, standing and looming over her surprised form. "I have done all I can to repress these inner feelings to no avail. How can a priest, a man of the cloth, someone who should help others - take pride in deriving joy from pain and suffering of those around him. If you should pass, and I should find no salvation, I have decided to take my own life as repentance." He ranted, making a surprised noise as she simply smiled and began to cry herself. She actually laughed at his remark.

"I wouldn't make too many plans for that, Kirei. I know you will come to your senses soon." She reached out feebly for his hand, and he actually found himself unconsciously taking it. "Your tears are because of your sadness over my death, I understand why you would wish to not admit such." She sniffled, closing her only remaining eye. "In my short time as your wife, I've learned more about you than anyone else. I believe that with my death, you will find your salvation because you will realize that you truly loved me." She paused, mouth parting as her breath grew more laboured by the second.

She paused, swallowing as if such a simple act were a herculean task. "I've poisoned myself, Kirei. In a few moments, I'll be gone and you'll have your realization." Her hand feebly squeezed his as they both waited with the presence of one another.

There were ten seconds of silence - he made sure to count - before she said one final goodbye. He never reciprocated, choosing to simply watch her die while cursing his inability to kill her properly. It was an almost pitiable thing. Standing like a child lost in a supermarket, staring down at the limp form of his now deceased bride.

A whole minute passed before any other sound came. The shuffling of linen as Kirei placed her hand, the hand he held onto until her passing, on the bed. "Your theory has been proven incorrect." Footsteps on hard tiling carried him around the room. "Perhaps it is because you were a sinner, why else would you have taken your own life so senselessly… Yes, yes. If you were a sinner, I would have no qualms over your death. Which leaves me searching for another solution to his persistent problem." His monologuing paused, turning from an aside into silent mumblings to himself which ended in a hollow chuckle as he exited the room.

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Kiritsugu was biting the end of a pencil like a wolf would a deer. While listening he had taken to leaning his hip against the desk. After the cassette stopped, he absently pressed the release to stop the recorded white noise. Only the howling sound of a blizzard brewing outside remained. It was almost peaceful, to have a brief natural silence after such a harrowing recording.

Until Smiles loudly clapped. "Tough shit, this guy sounds like a total nutjob." He huffed unceremoniously, standing and adjusting his tie. "Anyhow, my jobs done so I'll be making a mile." With a smile and a brief bow, he moved to the door, halting as his hand grasped the handle. "Ah, right." He mumbled, reaching into his pants to withdraw a seemingly blank business card. He turned to face his contract holder. "The priest worked side by side with this fledgling enforcer girl. Weird combination since the church and mage's association don't go hand-in-hand, but as they say; opposites attract. Got some dirt on her while we watched the target, maybe you can leverage it - or drag her away from that god-forsaken bastard." He explained, flicking the card out like a magician. As if on command, it landed on the desk beside Kiritsugu. "Specifics on that, so don't lose it." With one hand he pointed accusingly, the other reached behind himself to throw open the door so he could leave.

Kiritsugu sat silently for a moment to digest what he had actually heard. He played the tape a second time just to see if he had caught any details he would have missed the first go around, but he hadn't. Kirei Kotomine was a deranged man masquerading as someone who was sane. What sort of wish would someone that unstable hold for the Grail? Why would he be chosen as a master? And if his dream had been true, that fake priest would _win_. His plan of bombing the church seemed more and more justified with each new piece of information. Kirei was a very dangerous man. His ideals were frightening, to say the least. Eliminating him first and foremost before all other masters would be the highest priority. However, that would need to wait until the Grail War, when his servant had been summoned and his role as a master solidified. Risei was his adoptive father, theoretically, he should be nothing like Kirei. The pencil he had been biting snapped in half between his teeth. One of the remaining questions was if he should tell Iri about this, or rather, show her the tape or not.

Maybe not today, he would have to consider that decision a bit longer. He took the time to replace his cassette player in his desk, hiding the tape within a book among the shelves. " _Advanced Tips in Firearm Maintenance"_. After he was finished, he snatched the business card and turned it over in his fingers. Writing suddenly made itself apparent. A latent magical inscription that revealed itself on contact with the mage who was destined to read it. While he had to squint, the information written on it was rather impressive. An enforcer and executor working together hunting sealing designates. That alone brought up a snort. The church and the Clocktower worked separately for a good reason. They typically only worked hand in hand when it was absolutely required for the best outcome.

The card briefly touched upon the woman's background, her ties to the association and how possible missions and actions could be held against her as leverage - should it be required. It specifically pointed out that they would be a good asset for a myriad of purposes. Kiritsugu pocketed the card and walked towards the door. He would find out more about this woman, Maeve, at a later time.

Kiritsugu settled into bed beside his wife, staring up towards the ceiling as she wrapped around him to sleep. Absently, he admired the command seals printed on the back of his hand. It was a sword, there was no other way of looking at it. Well, it could be a cross. With his hand upwards, only he himself could actually see the weapon as something so pious. It was actually rather ironic. He, a man who was as far from the church and religion as possible, was branded by a cross. Exhausted, he let his hand fall onto the hip of his wife before closing his eyes.

What greeted him when they opened, was hell. All around him were flames, but not ordinary flames. They were magically encha- no, wait. They weren't enchanted flames, they were _cursed_ flames. They stretched out as far as Kiritsugu could see. The heat was unbearable. Even though he was out of the flames it felt as if he were standing within them. Screams echoed and howled from every direction. Men, women, children all crying out in pain and suffering. Crying for their mothers, their fathers, a saviour - the lord. Anything to save them from the unyielding flames which clung to the skin and crept along their bodies like contagious napalm. Even after most of their bodies had been turned to ash they begged for salvation. The curse was keeping them alive, barely, extracting all the pain and misfortune it could before letting its host expire. The fire was almost a living parasite. He found himself running, not the he that was himself, but the he which was… Goddamnit, this was another spectator dream gain. His physical copy looked exhausted, he hadn't even bothered to shave by the looks of things. Stumbling shakily through the rubble, it was almost as if he were looking for something, wasn't it?

But was this before or after the fight with Kirei? The spectator followed the physical body, glancing around to see if they could discern something - anything important. In the first dream, he had mostly gaped while observing. This time would be different, any clues, any key points that he could use would be found. The physical body was sprinting, moving as fast as he could while looking _everywhere_ for something. He kicked in the door of a burnt building, attention snapping onto the body of a young woman. The physical copy picked her up in his arms and in a sort of trance, carried her outside. The spectator could tell - she was long dead, and after a few moments, the physical copy discarded the body. The spectator realized what his other self was searching for at that moment.

A survivor. This was some sort of warzone and he was looking for a survivor - of course. The physical copy wrapped both hands around a red-hot rock, grimacing through the pain as he uncovered a pile of ashes and a severed hand. Turning around, the copy spotted what looked like a small girl curled up in a corner out of the flames. After running to it, however, he discovered it to only be a charred body that had been covered with fabric caught in the wind. Each time the copy discovered another dead body, his eyes dimmed, his pace slowed down a little bit. The spectator knew what the copy was going through - he was experiencing it himself.

Hopelessness, a force greater than pain, sadness or anger. It held back mountains and stopped great typhoons. Kiritsugu had seen it happen countless times. Caused by himself during the moments leading to the murder of his targets or within his own eyes in the mirror before he met Irisviel. It had almost become a second skin to him before then. During those times, he was questioning whether he would ever achieve his dream, if it were all worth it, if his goal had made him into the very monster he wished to destroy. The hopelessness he had seen in this dream was an entirely different form of hopelessness.

Throughout his past, hopelessness never stemmed from failure. Not once had failure brought him to his knees in desperation or brought tears to his eyes. But this physical copy was broken by precisely that. A half hour of finding corpses and ashes passed. It would seem that nobody had survived. The bodies of the survivors were all charred husks, ashes upon the ground or mangled piles of flesh and bone. After having too much, the physical form collapsed onto their knees, digging into a pile of rubble below with their body on autopilot. The spectator stood over the shoulder of their physical copy. Both of them had the same cold dead face which was more frigid than normal.

Even though the spectator was able to remain standing, it was only because he _knew_ this was a dream, and he also knew that after it was over, he could see Illya and Iri. That shred of hope kept him standing, made him clench his jaw and decide to see this through until the end rather than kneel beside his copy and weep alongside him. A small sound, a short, weak noise that came from the left side hardly rose over the crackle of fire. Both Kiritsugu's heard it, and both snapped their heads to attention. Only one of them scrambled to get to the outstretched hand coming from a small hole. It was trembling and seemed to belong to a child. The physical version kneeled over the hand, grasping it tight and… Cried onto whoever it was. The spectator slowly walked up to see who it was who had been found but suddenly, the world blurred and everything collapsed in on itself to a single white point.

He snapped awake, mostly because he was being jostled awake by Illya. "Daddy, daddy wake up!" She shouted with a great big smile. She was wearing her outside clothes for some reason, sitting on his chest and rattling his shoulders. He was angry for the slightest moment before he realized it was Illya. Then his face went to confusion before settling into a smile.

"Good morning Illya." He paused, shuffling his body upwards. "Why are you awake so early?" He asked, taking a quick glance around the room for Iri. She appeared to be gone.

She pouted, sitting back and crossing her arms haughtily over her chest. "Because you promised yesterday that we would go play outside and it's two in the afternoon and the snow has stopped an-"

He held up his hands in defeat, chuckling as he did. "Alright, alright. But you'll need to wait outside so I can get ready ok?" He bargained, watching his daughter go from angry pouting to overjoyed in a half second. He couldn't actually remember if he had promised her such a thing or not.

"Okay! But if you aren't out soon I'll banish you to the dungeons!" She giggled playfully, jumping off the bed and running to the door with arms outstretched - like a plane.

With a sigh, Kiritsugu got up and moved to get himself prepared for the day. His mind couldn't leave the dream again. He was there, standing in the flesh-searing heat, searching for survivors. He wanted to know who he had found - would he find them again if that situation were to happen again? Was Kirei involved in the fire? There were too many questions. If only Illya hadn't woken him he would have been able to- Wait, did she say it was two in the afternoon?

.. .. ..

.. .. ..

Illya was indeed correct. The snow had stopped, and the sun gleamed up above. The snow glittered like crystals and crunched satisfyingly underfoot. Times like these were really beautiful at the Einzburn castle, and even Kiritsugu could appreciate the peacefulness of it all. Illya was running around ahead, making small circles occasionally as she followed the long path towards a hiking path. As tranquil as the surroundings were, however, Kiritsugu couldn't quite leave his burning dream. Hours after he awoke, he cursed his imperceptiveness. He hadn't bothered to check and see if the 'real' him had command seals. Such a small thing, but it would have told him if what he had been seeing was before or _after_ the war. Without that little bit of knowledge, he would have to assume it was _before_ that fight with Kirei. Could a servant really dish out that kind of carnage? What twisted power would do such a thing? To innocent people over such a great area? So deep in thought was the man that he accidentally walked right into a branch which was leering into the pathway.

Illya giggled before running up in front of her father and beaming up at him. "Are you suuuree you got enough sleep?" She asked, squinting her eyes and pursing her lips inquisitively. In response, Kiritsugu smiled before suddenly kicking up a pile of snow which covered Illya from head to toe. The suddenness of it all took her by complete surprise. She shrieked and tried to move away but got covered in snow. When she turned back to look at her father, she found he had taken off running while laughing at her expense. Furious, she began chasing after him while shouting, "unfair!"

After some time of playing, Illya asked if they could go somewhere new. Curious, Kiritsugu agreed and followed his daughter. The day spent playing had actually taken his mind off the dream. If it hadn't, he probably would have gone into a paranoia induced planning overload like he had the last time. But then what could he even plan for? Bring a fire extinguisher? Wait, the fire was cursed. So a _Blessed Fire Extinguisher_. The thought made him snort in amusement. Illya had stopped and turned to face him, hands going behind her back. In time, he stopped to, face turning to confusion at her actions. "Illya, what do you have planned?" He asked simply.

She suddenly lowered her head and rubbed the front of her boot into the snow sheepishly. "You know how you told me not to do magic?" She began, surprising Kiritsugu as two wire-frame birds, doves if their shape indicated anything, appeared over his daughter's shoulders. "I couldn't help it." She ended, voice saddened. They were not fully formed birds, but blue strings shaped to the image of birds. Idly, they flapped their wings while bobbing lightly up and down. A few awkward seconds passed where Kiritsugu just held a look of surprise. In this time, he recognized where it had come from. "Mommy taught me while you were away, she said that nobody had ever learned how to form them that fast without learning the… Oh-" She huffed, stamping one foot in anger. "I forgot what she told me."

He could only laugh and shake his head. Of course she had taught her. It only made sense, he supposed. He had no real magical skills beyond combat magic. Teaching that to a girl this young would do nothing but set her onto a dark path. Iri was more skilled in healing magic and defensive spells, something that could be useful without being deadly.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked silently, lifting her head to await her father's scolding.

Kiritsugu crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath before speaking. "No, I'm actually impressed. If your ability is already this great at such a young age, I can only imagine what you'll be capable of when you're older." He took a few steps forward and kneeled in front of her, running a hand through her hair with a smile. "I'm only upset that you didn't tell me the truth. I'll let Iri know that she doesn't have to hide this around me anymore, ok?" For a man who had a career where watching people closely was imperative - he was rather clueless about his own family.

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.. .. ..

In the following evening, Kiritsugu prepared to perform a communication ritual. For once, he was performing actual magecraft. He was forced to do it because the Enforcer woman happened to be a proper mage and for no logical reason, "proper" mages today despised technology. Kiritsugu wasn't really a mage, farther from a proper mage, so this hatred didn't extend to him. When he had arrived at the Einzburn castle, they didn't even have _electricity_. He had argued with Jubstacheit for weeks just to get a generator wired up to the castle. Another week was spent debating whether a phone and a fax machine were worthy appliances. Even now, Old Man Acht gave his office dirty looks whenever he walked by. But that didn't matter now, what mattered was getting this sigil right.

Just like a telephone, the sigil he was working on would be mated to a 'code'. This code was unique to each mage, and could be converted into runic. The special runic was what a mage needed to inscribe properly to get the right connection. One off character was like one wrong digit in a phone number. Other forms of communication besides runic existed in the mage world. There was at least one for each respective school of magecraft, It just so happened that this woman favoured runes - convenient since Kiritsugu at least had a basic understanding of the language.

All in all, it only took him an hour. If he were experienced it may have only taken five minutes but he had made a point of triple checking his inscriptions. He made a very quick last check and after he moved to sit down. Supplying mana to the sigil established the connection and he waited for the other end to 'pick up'.

"Who is this?" Came a coordinated voice from the sigil. The suddenness of it had caught him by surprise. Her voice had an Irish tinge to it. Not something that cluttered her sentences, but enough to call back to her roots.

"Maeve McRemitz, correct? My name is Kiritsugu Emiya, but you might know of me better by-"

"The Mage Killer. Of course, I've heard of you. What is it you're looking for? Am I the target of your next contract?" She spat out with sudden anger. Was she paranoid about being targeted? Not many assassins took the time to call out their targets before striking. Not any good ones, anyway.

"Working backwards, no and your help." He replied briskly, raising an eyebrow at the following moment of silence.

"Help with what? I'm not some teacher for a contracted killer with a mark." She replied. He had expected something like this. His name had the unfortunate side effect of forcing people away. Still, communication hadn't broken down as she was still connected. Obviously, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I'm not a part of that business anymore. A task of greater importance has taken my attention, and it doesn't involve assassination." He replied simply. She wouldn't need to know that it was about the Holy Grail War, she wasn't a participant. "I need your help with training."

There was another, longer period of silence before Maeve replied with "what?"

"I've heard of your combat potential, combining runecraft with hand-to-hand prowess is incredibly ingenuitive, and I wish to learn some of your techniques or at the least, a better fighting style." He admitted, ashamed that he - for the first time in his career - had to accept outside help in training. Natalia didn't count, she was more a mother to him than a mentor.

"You understand that I am held up with my work and that I'm not at liberty to disregard my job and train rogue mages right?"

"Fully, I also understand that Enforcers and Executors shouldn't consider one another as friends. It's not common for one to train the other either." He menaced, hoping that brief hint of blackmail wouldn't skew their conversation in the wrong direction.

"And here Kirei was insulting me for being paranoid. I knew I felt someone watching us." She huffed, pausing to think. So far the conversation was going exactly as planned. Before she could respond, Kiritsugu but in.

"Speaking of, the same person watching you has discovered something of extreme importance regarding Kirei's character. Working beside him, I imagine you would like to hear such a thing." Kiritsugu decided to bargain with the information, rather than blackmail her against the Association. He had reasoned that it would be the best tactic for cooperation.

"I always wondered if that priest was more machine than human." She commented absently, humming in contemplation. "Even if I were to exchange mentorship for information, how do you suppose I will escape the wrath of the Association?" She questioned, finding herself interested in how the Mage Killer would answer.

"If you know of my name that well, then I have no doubts that the Association also knows of it." He commented, hoping she would fill in the blanks.

"I see, I see… I still think this might be a trap or something. It's not often you hear word from the mage's equivalent of the Boogeyman. What are the terms of this agreement and what sort of guarantee can you provide that you won't kill me?"

He wanted to laugh but held his tongue, he wasn't a Boogeyman at all. Maybe to some, who thought he killed purely for the money or just for sport. In reality, he was killing one to prevent the deaths of many. But the less known about him, the better. "In exchange for information and additional smaller requests, you will provide mentorship in runecrafting and hand-to-hand combat. Neither of us will attempt to directly harm the other apart from wounds suffered in training. You'll also be provided room and board for the duration, within luxury accommodations." Kiritsugu laid out the agreement simply. He may have imagined the quality of the Einzburn castle to be a little greater than it was in reality but that was a white lie. While the castle itself was rather lush, the atmosphere negated any benefit from the quality furnishings.

"And transport? I'll also need to take multiple trips away from the castle for weeks at a time, this all fine with you?" Maeve added.

"Transport will be provided and paid for. You may take as many absences as you want, no doubt you have your own business to attend to." Kiritsugu nodded to himself. It wouldn't be hard to transport her Germany. It might be harder to get Acht to give her a room but that man would do _anything_ to win the Grail.

"Since this seems like a win-win situation, I'll tell you what." She paused after speaking. Perhaps adjusting herself on the other end? "I'll come to you but you have to show me what kind of dirt you have on Kirei first. If it's interesting, I'll agree to teach you whatever you want. But the value of that information will determine the length I stay - got it?" She said, setting more terms to their agreement. For Kiritsugu, everything she said was reasonable.

"Acceptable, where are you located so I can charter a flight?" He asked only to get a laugh from the other end, much to his dissatisfaction.

"Unfortunately I'm a bit smarter than the typical mage from the Clocktower. I'll need _your_ location, and I'll make it to you by tomorrow." She argued, turning the tables. If she wasn't travelling through his means, it would be rather costly - but his days as a mercenary could pay for that if Acht wouldn't.

"The Einzburn castle, south-west of the Inn river, do you know of it?" Kiritsugu relinquished without hesitating. As much as Acht would hate to hear it, his castle wasn't as incognito as he would have thought.

"I do, I know of it well. Tomorrow morning I'll arrive, I assume you'll meet me, so this will be farewell until then." She said all at once, cutting the communication abruptly. Kiritsugu looked out the window of his office, the sun already below the horizon. Kiritsugu went over the events of the day. He had woken up late, played with Illya and discovered her to be a prodigy at magecraft. He finished off by hiring an Enforcer to teach him how to fight. The most shocking had to Illya's newfound ability in magecraft. He discovered - after a brief analysis - that Illya had a special power, her magic crest it could be called. Since one was never passed down unto her, but she was given magic circuits in the womb, a pseudo crest was somehow created within her. Kiritsugu named the crest "Wish Granter". It had the ability to cast spells without knowing the process behind their conception. A simple application of raw mana would produce the desired results. He named it such because Illya revealed that she had secretly wished to do magecraft just so she could impress Iri and him. Just thinking about the innocence of it all brought a smile to his face. She had been able to copy a lesser form of Iri's construct-type magic and was able to use basic healing magic just by watching her mother work. With a big yawn, he swept up the inscriptions from his ritual and cleaned up the area. After that, he shambled off to bed, surprisingly tired for waking up at two in the afternoon. He wondered why that was.

.. .. ..

.. .. ..

She arrived early the next morning, meeting Kiritsugu at the edge of the magical barrier so that he could allow her passage. He had been arguing with Acht for much of last night, trying to persuade him that Maeve to him was like a whetstone to a knife edge. It worked, but only barely. Acht decided to offer up a large room like the one he and Iri had, saying something about "showing her the grandeur of the Einzburns" or something equally as stupid. He had only been standing for a half hour before she strode up to the edge of the barrier, stepping through it when Kiritsugu signalled she could. The woman ahead of him was in her early twenties, wearing a well made, fitted black suit. She was a rather good-looking woman with pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. Her entire body was rigid with professionalism, fists clenched tight and face drawn tight with neutral analysis. He hadn't noticed it immediately, but a mole rested under her left eye. It broke up the monotony of her face and actually contributed to her attractiveness. They both nodded lightly to one another, brown eyes clashing with black in a silent battle of will. Just with the look behind their eyes, they conversed and judged one another before saying a single word in person.

"Magus Killer." Maeve began, nodding respectfully.

"Fraga." Kiritsugu shot back, watching her body - which was already tense - become a guitar string with one word. Obviously, she didn't like her 'trump card' being revealed so casually. Her eyes narrowed and filled with a fierce anger. The slight squeak of leather from her gloves was the only warning he had of a fist hurtling towards his face. With an inhale, Kiritsugu contorted his body to lean off to the left. Her fist grazed the shoulder of his coat and already her other fist reared back to plant itself within his stomach. In this time, his own hand had wrapped around the handle of his combat knife, and the thrust blade was already much closer to her than her fist was to him. He marvelled as she didn't even try to move away, but realized why with surprise when the blade struck her stomach and deflected with a _clang_. His hand released from the knife, he wouldn't be able to move out of the way while holding on.

 _ **Time Alter: Double Accel!**_ Kiritsugu shouted in his mind, darting back to the right under her arm and taking hold of the briefly falling knife with his opposite hand. As the Time Alter wore off, he shoved himself forwards, wrapping his other hand around her back and pulling towards himself. He was trying with renewed vigour and additional power to brute force his way through her enchanted suit. Long story short - it didn't work and he suddenly found himself facing the sky as the woman flipped him over with a strike to the back of his neck. As she pivoted and prepared to deliver a downwards strike to his chest, his legs came up to intercept, kicking her arm out to the side and unbalancing her. On the wet, icy snow he managed to rotate his body and use her chest as a striking pad for both feet. In that move, they separated with enough time for both to stand and face one another. A bit better than a dozen feet separated them, and he had already lost his knife in the first move. He was facing an expert in hand to hand and actually surviving which was surprising. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he was lacking in actual physical combat skills. Guns and explosives were much more his style, effective, simple to use.

"For a guy who's claim to fame is murdering hundreds of mages, your form is terrible. Your strength is alright for being unenhanced, but your technique.." She paused, shaking her head and flinging bits of snow that had stuck in her hair all about. "It's like you learned to fight in a bar - ten minutes ago." She snorted, moving forward with quick, controlled steps. Just as fast as the first strike, her right hand snaked out to attack his kidney. A debilitating blow, if it managed to strike that is. In a fluid motion, his left hand lashed out at her wrist, taking hold and tugging to use her limb as a pivoting point, he performed a classic shoulder throw, tossing her over his back onto the snow. She landed but held onto his right arm sleeve. The smaller woman had a lot more strength than he had imagined, finding out first hand as she yanked him downwards into a stumble. Without even hesitating, her other fist pulled into a swing and struck at the elbow. Had his arm been any other direction, it would have broken. However since it was positioned to bend parallel to the strike - it held up to the force but wouldn't be usable for some time.

Moving with the blow, Kiritsugu turned and tried to fall with his knee onto Maeve's face. With a kip up, the woman avoided the attack and moved into a striking position. Kiritsugu rolled forwards, popping up at the end and rotating to put some distance - some breathing room - between them. Unfortunately, it looked as if that wasn't going to happen. In mid turn, he was forced to move. _**Time Alter: Double Accel!**_ He shouted mentally once more. Ducking under a fist primed for his chest, he shot upwards with his good arm and nailed the woman square on the chin just after the Time Alter ended. The attack utilized the combined force of his entire body and sent Maeve off her feet and onto her back. The snow made a satisfying _thwump_ from her weight. Without skipping a beat she lifted her head up, gave it a shake and rubbed her chin.

"That was actually a decent hit. Alright Magus Killer, show me that info and I'll think about teaching you." She huffed, slowly getting up and dusting off her suit. She gave her head a stronger shake to dislodge some of the snow that had clung to it. Her face returned to a state of impassiveness shortly after.

Kiritsugu was standing tall and looking composed and ready to fight. Only when he was sure their fight was concluded he let out a pent-up breath and slumped over. His right arm was still numb, and a decent amount of his energy was gone from just that little spar. His lungs heaved to recover some oxygen, clouding the air in front of his face with the heated breath. Maeve on the other hand wasn't even breathing hard and her posture was still stiff as a board. Perhaps he needed this training more than he thought. Maeve simply glanced at him with apprehension. " _You_ killed Enforcers like _me_?" She scoffed. "Luck must run in your family." She snickered, walking down the trail towards the Einzburn castle with calm confidence.

Luck? Oh, if only she knew how wrong she was. He followed a few good paces behind her towards the looming work of masonry.

His back slammed against the wall. Blood found its way out of his mouth from the ruptured organs from the impact. Normally, it would have come from his shattered ribs - but his time with Natalia and the creation of his Origin rounds had shaved off the most breakable bits. As he collapsed on the ground, he could only wonder how many of their spars would end in this way. Irisviel was there beside him in a moment, face full of quiet sadness as she healed his battered and bruised body back into peak condition. The process was getting faster now, she was becoming more attuned with his body and able to knit parts back to their original state without having to figure out what that state was. What had taken an hour the first time, was now done in twenty minutes or less. All the while, Maeve hardly even seemed winded - but she was bleeding from her cheek.

Glaring up at her with newfound fury and determination, Kiritsugu thought back mere hours ago to when he had shown her the tape.

.. .. ..

.. .. ..

 _She sat on a chair opposite his desk, waiting as he withdrew the cassette player and the cassette from "Advanced Tips in Firearm Maintenance". Gently he placed it in, rewound it to the beginning and pressed play. He watched idly as her face went from neutral, to confused at why such a recording would be incriminating, to rapidly disgusted and horrified. When it was over, she didn't say a word, but the deep scowl on her face said plenty. As if finally realizing he was there, her head shot up._

" _That's the monster I've been working beside? That's the creature who supposedly had my back when the fighting got hard? Jesus… If he… If he were here…" Her face faltered for a minute but rapidly regained its composure in the same instance. "I'd kill him, I'd kill the bastard right now." She ended, standing abruptly. "Let me ask you, does your 'new task' have anything to do with putting that fake priest down?"_ _He stared her dead in the face and nodded. "Then I'll do whatever I can to make sure you can put him down as painfully as possible." She said with resolution. "All I'll need…"_

.. .. ..

.. .. ..

She had requested plenty of training aids, but most would need to get through Jubstacheit before he could say anything about them. The first request was a training room, and that, Kiritsugu knew he could allow without permission. Upon entering, she set up guidelines on how they would train, when they would train, and what would be allowed in each spar. On Kiritsugu's end, anything was fair game. However, Maeve was limited to simple hand-to-hand. She would use no specialized techniques unique to her. This was for two reasons. For one, it protected her secrets and for two, any technique of hers would probably kill him. She obviously felt confident that nothing Kiritsugu could pull out would be threatening. Little did she know.

Kiritsugu didn't hesitate on using guns, knives and grenades in attempts at wounding her. Of course, his Calico and Thompson Contender were in Fuyuki, so his familiar, more formidable weaponry was unavailable. That and using an ace in the hole like his Contender was foolish. The normal guns actually did wound her, but only since the impact was so concentrated over such a small area. Each successful hit was another bruise. That was until a round struck her bare neck and Irisviel had to heal her for once, lest she bleed out and die. After that match Kiritsugu found his gun to be the target of her fists much more often. The score, not that anyone had been counting, was thirteen to one. It wasn't hard to guess which person held which score.

"Your form is getting better, you're not relying so much on that gun anymore which is good. Kirei is an expert in martial arts, much like I am but in a different style. The amount of power his fists can produce puts me to shame - I'm not afraid to admit that." She commented, spacing her feet and lifting both fists as Kiritsugu shakily stood once more. "His weakness lies in a lack of defence. His body and clothes have no reinforcement." She commented further, tilting her head as her opponent wavered on his feet. "You going for one more try or are we done for today?" She asked calmly, eyes narrowing as the Magus Killer cracked his neck unceremoniously.

"Once more." He replied briefly, doing his best to copy Maeve's stance. She cocked her head to the side at this but it didn't stop her from moving forward and making the first strike. Each opening strike of hers had been different, but each one had a similarity. Their power was always weaker than every following strike. For whatever reason, her blows gained intensity as the battle went on. Perhaps it was some sort of inner Irish bloodthirst? Although he wouldn't actually say that to her face in fear of having an arm torn off.

Her first blow, a simple short jab with her right to his shoulder was turned into a near miss by a strike to her forearm. Following up, Kiritsugu pivoted and struck at what was currently empty air. But as his fist neared full extension, it found its target on her upper right arm. She always prepared her second strike as the first was supposed to be landing, a full offence move which left defence wide open. The strike was solid and brought out a rasp of sucking air from his target. Not stopping to allow her to recover, his body dropped, right foot swinging out to hook Maeve's leg from behind. Unfortunately, she was too well-spaced for this tactic to fully trip her, however, she was stumbled heavily and unable to launch a retaliatory attack. With most of his back to Maeve, Kiritsugu extended his legs to rise while using his right elbow to jab back into the Enforcer's chest. It was unclear who that attack hurt more since there was a visceral cracking sound coming from both members involved.

 _ **Time Alter: Triple Accel!**_ He shouted mentally, keeping his half-stood position. He started a rotation toward her right side and pulled back his left fist. With the attack ready to launch, his time acceleration disabled and his fist found itself slamming into the bottom of her ribs. As the strike collided, Maeve collapsed and began coughing roughly, face contorted in pain. As she knelt, Kiritsugu let out a breath and offered the woman a hand up. This time he had won. He had used an exploit in her tactics, and had struck with more ferocity than the last dozen attempts combined - but a win was a win. Perhaps this had been a training for her as well - not to underestimate her opponents.

"You-got-alot-stronger." She wheezed, gasping out syllables while nursing her liver. "You were-holding back-before." She surmised, glaring upwards to get a nod from the sweating Kiritsugu.

"I exploited a flaw and won the fight." He stated blandly, still holding his hand outstretched. Eventually, she took it and hoisted herself up, holding onto her side and limping towards the door.

"It was good, but you said that was the last one - and I'm hungry and tired." She paused, taking in a couple gulps of air before continuing. "Tomorrow I'll teach you Runic and how to inscribe things with it." She huffed, opening the door and leaving to show herself to the dining hall. Kiritsugu, after watching her leave - collapsed onto his knees and began panting for air. Irisviel was beside him in a moment, offering what little healing she could while simply consoling her husband. Kiritsugu hardly heard her, silently hoping that their training would get easier, or that runecrafting would be simple.

... ... ...

... ... ...

... ... ...

Kiritsugu couldn't have been more wrong. Training seemed to get harder and harder every day. Irisviel actually forced him to stay in bed for several days since she feared for his health. He had run himself to the point of total collapse in a vain attempt at overcoming Maeve in her natural field of expertise. It wasn't that he was desperate to get better, he was just determined to _win_. Regardless of how hard he tried, he could never seem to consistently get the upper hand and that infuriated him to no end. He had surpassed that first day of thirteen to two in the first year, but he hadn't made much progress beyond that. Each time he seemed to be making a stride in the right direction, she seemed to gain another edge on him. Whether that be a faster reaction, stronger impact or simply a new move he had never experienced before. Kiritsugu had been specifically limiting his use of Time Alter to acclimate his body and reactions to Maeve's extreme speed. If he relied on Time Alter, he would use it too much and run himself dry of mana.

Runecrafting was no easier than the physical training. It took extended amounts of time and dedication to remember and use the runes practically. It took longer to actually inscribe them onto materials and make them work properly without causing a massive explosion like he had in the east wing. He had done it though. Maeve had called him an "advanced novice" by the end of her time with him. And their time definitely had ended. Around one month ago - almost two years since she arrived - Maeve vanished from the castle and never returned. It was as if she were abducted in the night. She didn't even respond to his communication ritual.

But she hadn't died. His informants in the Clocktower revealed that she was indeed alive and well - simply hiding. For what reason was unknown to Kiritsugu, but he decided not to pry. His time sparring with that woman had granted her his respect and slight fear. He wouldn't want to be caught in a real fight with her without his Contender, that was all he would say. Reflecting back on his dream, and comparing that to his time sparring with Maeve, Kiritsugu was confident he could at least go toe-to-toe with the fake priest, if not catch him off guard.

The year was now 1994, and the Grail War was almost literally around the corner. In four days, Kiritsugu would summon King Arthur using Avalon - the almighty Arthurian relic. Oddly enough, Assassin and Lancer had already been summoned. By who was unknown, not like it mattered. Soon he would find out first hand. Other information had revealed itself in the past few weeks. The identities of the other masters specifically, as well as an interesting development.

Kirei Kotomine, Kariya Matou, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald and Tokiomi Tohsaka were all verified masters. Waver Velvet was also a potential master, as stories spoke of him stealing a relic destined for Kayneth Archibald. Each one had a rather blatant reason to fight for the Grail. Their precise wish was unknown, only their skills and potential were known. Kiritsugu could name Kirei's skills and abilities through sheer memory by this point but the others were new.

Kariya Matou was a feeble mage, barely holding his body together as the Matou family magic tore his body apart from the inside. Kariya could almost be forgotten, he would die with or without help.

Kayneth would be a concerning member of this war. An expert in summoning, necromancy, alchemy and spiritual evocation. He is regarded as the most accomplished mage and lecturer of the Clocktower, and his background makes that believable. After Kirei, Kayneth would be the most threatening target.

The potential master Waver Velvet was a novice mage, a student from Kayneth's own class. He would pose little threat unless the relic stolen was something formidable. Knowing the Archibalds, it most likely would be.

Tokiomi Tohsaka was an accomplished mage, only behind Kayneth Archibald in raw magical potential. Highly skilled in jewelcraft and fire spells. Yet the most interesting part of Tokiomi, was not his abilities nor family. It was the fact that he allegedly took on Kirei Kotomine as an apprentice, three years before now. They both told the public they immediately separated when Kirei's command seals appeared, but Kiritsugu knew better than the common people. The pair had done a decent job of concealing their actions enough so that Kiritsugu, even watching Kirei like a hawk, hadn't discovered the apprenticeship for well over a year. It didn't take a genius to discover what they were doing.

Tokiomi and Kirei were working together to secure victory of the Holy Grail War. It was something against the rules and incredibly dishonest. But when an omnipotent wish granter was on the line, honesty seemed to be in short supply. Knowing of their alliance beforehand meant Kiritsugu could strike whenever he desired while expecting reinforcements from the other. Even though outnumbered - he held an advantage in that respect. Hopefully, Kirei's musings would move him to the church, then Kiritsugu's job would be simple. They would only need to watch the Church and detonate the explosives when Kirei went inside - if he went inside.

Kiritsugu was thinking all of this as he walked behind his daughter, absently scanning the trees to find chestnut buds. He wasn't doing a very good job since his mind was clogged with thoughts of what would come next. Illya was nine now, and still as full of energy and childish joy as she had been three years ago. How she had managed to keep it up, was beyond him.

"Found another one!" She shouted, jumping up and down while pointing at the end of a branch. Just as she said, the bud was clear as day and Kiritsugu gave her a congratulations before deciding to try his best at beating his daughter - or coming close anyway, she was surprisingly _really good_ at finding chestnut buds.

He lost miserably.

... ... ...

... ... ...

... ... ...

It was time for the summoning. At midnight, Acht and Iri had gathered with Kiritsugu in the church to summon their servant for the Grail War. It was quarter after Midnight, but the summoning wouldn't take place until two in the morning. They had come early, to prepare the circle and link the catalyst. Once that was completed and double checked to be completed correctly, Acht returned to the castle, leaving Kiritsugu and Iri alone so he would not disrupt the ritual.

"Iri." Kiritsugu began, voice echoing around the stone walls and painted glass. "Kirei and Tokiomi Tohsaka are working together. I don't know what their plans are, but I have no doubt that Kirei knows of me." Kiritsugu paused, secretly wishing he could light a smoke. "But I know more than he will think I know. If he's smart, I'll be his main interest. By extension that puts you at risk for attacks." He turned to her and peered into her eyes with sadness. "Are you sure you're comfortable with that?" He asked, surprised as she smiled and took his hands.

"This war has been the only thing I've been preparing for my whole life. And if it's the only way to truly ensure that you and Illya can live happily, then I'm determined to see it through. I knew it would be dangerous, but I wouldn't want it any other way." She decided, giving a stubborn nod with a smiling face.

Kiritsugu could only gape, surprised at her willpower. Sometimes he envied her in that regard. Once she was set on doing something, she wouldn't stop until she saw it through. His face broke into a slight smile and with a chuckle, he moved to the summoning circle. Checking the time and verifying it to be 1:55, he lifted and pointed his hand - the right - towards the circle. Off memory, he began speaking the aria:  
"Heed my words, my will creates your body and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail's call, and obey my will and reasoning - then answer my summoning." He paused. The circle was surging with a crimson light, growing brighter and brighter as time went on. Kiritsugu suddenly added his own custom lines in place of the traditional ones. "I hereby swear, that I shall be all the good of the world - and defeat all evil of the world." He paused again, eyes latching onto his wife before affixing themselves on the circle. "From the Seventh Heaven, attended by the three great powers, come forth from the throne O-Wielder of Promised Victory!" He shouted, white light spewing out of the summoning circle and illuminating the entire church.

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 **Yes, yes. I've added** _ **two**_ **(read that again)** _ **two**_ **whole new characters to the fray. One won't be appearing again, but the other will - or at least someone similar. I imagine you can figure it out which is which, heh-heh.**

 **The end of this chapter signals the start of the Fourth Holy Grail War, which may or may not continue following Kiritsugu - you'll just have to wait and see. Anyway! This got lots of views in a very short amount of time and that inspired me to write this whole block! We also got two reviews which were very nice to see! If you're enjoying it so far, write a review yourself, they are always wanted.**


	3. Sixth Sense

**EDIT: "Of what do you speak of, ?" I hear some of you asking. Well, you aren't actually asking that since I've given you no reason to, but if you were, then I could tell you that it's basically because I just recently built a new PC and it's working amazingly. Because of my upgrade, I'm now more capable of multitasking my editing and procrastination. Three cheers for Berix!**

 **Thank you very much to** " _ **Doubleblade Miriko"**_ **for pointing out that my time-skips and scene progression marks weren't showing up properly. Shame on all of you who didn't let me know before him! This is why we write reviews! Anyhow, that same person left a very nice review and since it's the first in-depth one I've received I'd like to extend a public thanks. This took a little bit longer than I wanted it to due to Uni tests, so I hope I didn't keep any of you waiting** _ **too**_ **long.**

 **If I get more reviews, I might start selecting one or two at random to be featured in pre or post notes, so give me some so I can let people know of your kind words!**

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He was a woman, or she was a woman. The "King" of Britain was a _woman_. The thought was so preposterous Kiritsugu had to leave and calm down lest he question the validity of all of history. Beyond the confusion regarding gender, he had actually been impressed. From what he could tell, Saber was a top-tier servant with all of her stats of rank A or above. The only thing she lacked, was any luck. When he found out, Kiritsugu almost laughed in her face. Of course he, one of the most unlucky people on Earth, would be stuck with a servant equally as fated for misfortune. D rank luck, how miserable. Beggars couldn't be choosers however. He would only lose his servant if the other masters summoned Heracles or any of the other gods or demigods. Achilles, Artemis, Karna, Arjuna, Merlin, Vlad the Impaler or… Hm, he was forgetting someone important, wasn't he? But speculation was useless in a time like this. She would fight whoever stood in her way. The only question was if she would win.

"Master?" Came a light but commanding voice from behind him. Kiritsugu was standing on the edge of a stone balcony which connected into a large guest seating area within the castle. The balcony joined two towers of the castle and made the wall flush with the edge of each tower. As he turned, she came into sight. Golden hair tied into a bun that seemed to glitter in the moonlight. Piercing, stern green eyes that held within them a fiery stubbornness and incredible resolve which contrasted a soft but pronounce face displaying young innocent beauty. Her body was quite thin but the way she carried herself in plated armour made it seem as if steel were as light as paper. There were many things juxtaposing with this servant in appearances alone and personally Kiritsugu didn't want to experience any more.

"Saber." He acknowledged, wishing he had something to do with his hands - smoke preferably.

"Irisviel has informed me of your plans for this war." She began with a cold, impersonal voice.

This was it, wasn't it? Where she rebels against him and cuts off his head with that invisible sword of hers. He hadn't expected it so soon. Perhaps later in the war when he detonated the explosives in the church or murdered the other masters in cold blood - but his war hadn't even began and already she was abo-

"I must confess, I had not expected my master to be as skilled as you are in tactics. With your planning, we will surely be able to claim the Grail together." She said with a smile, raising an arm and clenching a fist in front of her face. Her arm lowered once the dramatic effect had served its purpose.

What.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to make a display of his skills learned while training with Maeve. Not yet anyway. His face softened slightly and his shoulders relaxed. "That means a lot coming from the 'King Who Never Lost.'" He replied, turning away from her and leaning over the stone balustrade. Behind her, the king in question shook her head.

"You confuse me for another. The 'King Who Never Lost' would be Alexander the Great. According to your history recordings, I would be 'The One, True King of the Britons.'" She corrected, smirking at the man's slight slip up. Mistakes revealed one's humanity - which was ironic in her case.

He was silent for a while, simply gazing out into the darkness covered forest before he ducked his head down and straightened his body. "Why?" Was all he asked, not even turning to face her. His hands sat open on the frosted stone ahead of him, going red from the cold.

Even though the question was vague, Saber understood its underlying message perfectly. "I had thought this conversation would wait until we were better acquainted with one another. However if the answer will clear your mind for the coming fight - I am willing to provide it." She paused, slowly moving towards the balustrade at a point somewhere to Kiritsugu's left. As she ran her hand along the snow-layered surface, he occasionally glanced at her. For the True King of all Britain, she was almost like a child sometimes with her naivete. "It is a lengthy story, but I will provide the necessary details to clarify my predicament." She began, unwinding the tale of Arturia Pendragon. Kiritsugu was listening so intently, that he hadn't noticed the rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon.

When he re-entered the castle, he could almost declare himself an expert on Arthurian history and legend. Although condensed and without the personal exploits of King Arthur herself, It had still been an epic tale. She recited some of the more well known facts humanity had managed to hold onto, as well as provided some smaller details that had been lost in time. Never once had he found himself bored or disinterested though. Through the trails, the friendships and the rivalries he was almost entertained - if not saddened deeply by the hardship a small girl was forced into. If Merlin were here, Kiritsugu would try to kill him - before being turned into a mushroom or something. The sheet magical potential of Merlin recalled by Saber was staggering. Maybe Kiritsugu was just getting too soft. Already he was growing too attached to a girl that was little more than a tool he would use to grant his wish. Chances were, she would end up despising his existence by the end of this war - but that was something he could live with.

A warm sensation around his hand caught him off guard. Iri was there beside him, smiling with closed eyes as she tugged him to take a right turn rather than a left when the hallway went into a T. The left headed towards his office. The right, their bedroom. He had planned on working but obviously, his wife held a differing opinion.

"You've been awake for thirty-eight hours, you should get some rest. Illya can play with her soon-to-be new friend while you sleep. Can we forget about the Grail for three days?" She comforted, having to half-drag, half-convince her husband to take care of himself. As they pushed the door to their room open, he suddenly found himself rather heavy and the bed rather comfortable.

… … ...

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Assassin - or who he assumed to be Assassin for various reasons - exploded violently as an array of golden weaponry obliterated him and the surrounding area. Through a camera attached to a mind-controlled bat, Kiritsugu had been watching. Making a familiar was far easier than this but would be easily detectable. This technique of mind-control would be nigh impossible to detect. Kiritsugu snorted in amusement when the scene had ended. In his mind he replayed it, trying to find the missed nuances.

Assassin had crept up like a mouse, made some acrobatics like he was a secret agent breaking into a bank vault guarded with laser beams, then exploded (for lack of a better term). Some golden prince on top of the Tohsaka manor had been the cause of it, spouting nonsense Kiritsugu couldn't decipher through lip-reading. This entire play Tokiomi and Kirei were conducting was almost laughable. There were so many holes in the plot that anyone with enough deduction skill could see through it - even if they hadn't known that Kirei and Tokiomi were in cahoots.

For starters, Assassin was called Assassin because their main premise was stealth. The overwhelming majority of Assassin's held a varying level of a skill called Presence Concealment. This skill, masks the presence (imagine that) of a servant from both master _and_ servant. So as long as the Assassin is not within direct line of sight of a mage or servant they would, for all intents and purposes, be rendered invisible. Unless the golden prince was vigilantly watching the perimeter, Assassin would have never been noticed. But if golden boy _had_ been watching the perimeter, Assassin would have recognized the threat and never have advanced in the first place.

The second hole in their play was the fact that multiple familiars had watched the battle - but not been detected. If Kiritsugu who was miles away could detect familiars around the area from the camera on his bat - a mage as skilled as Tokiomi Tohsaka would have as well. They had wanted onlookers, they wanted to keep up a guise that Assassin had been eliminated by Tokiomi in the first few days of the war. It would play into their hand well. Assassin could be more effective if nobody ever even though they were alive - let alone able to strike from behind.

Finally, the most glaring hole in their charade. No servant would lay down and die as easy as that Assassin had. Standing in place as the golden prince ranted - most likely - about their superiority? And then not even budge an inch as the first weapon flew out? Stupider things had happened, but it was unlikely. Either Assassin had some sort of time-altering noble phantasm similar to his own, had a teleportation type phantasm which would border on true magic or the most simple, but equally strange option; multiple copies.

Each had equal opportunities, none of them mattered. The main takeaway, was that Kirei Kotomine was feigning his defeat in the Grail War. Which meant he was heading to the church. When Kiritsugu wasn't sure. He would give it a day to make sure the fake priest was inside. Then, his plan would come together and the war would be one step closer to victory. One very large step - he might add. Kiritsugu lowered his binoculars before turning his head to peer back at Maiya. It had only been eight days since Saber was summoned, four of those days had been in Fuyuki. Saber was summoned early specifically so that Kiritsugu could test his abilities while having the drain of a servant. They were disappointing but manageable. He hoped that the large drain on his mana stocks was simply due to the summoning ritual, but he wasn't counting on being any stronger. He had come early to Fuyuki to get a head start on scouting as well as re-familiarize himself with the fine details of both sides of the city. It also served as another test to his magecraft. With such a great distance between Saber and himself, the drain amplified and he could actually feel the steady flow maintaining her body. Kiritsugu reasoned that this would be similar to the drain Saber would take when she was in combat.

Maiya was statue-still, kneeling on the concrete roof of the hotel with sniper in hand. She was using the scope to watch a small house. They discovered it held one Waver Velvet in a freak accident. Since Kiritsugu had come early, they ran out of food. As such, they had to go gather more from a fast food joint down the street from one of their rented hotels. As Kiritsugu could conceal his master-status with runecraft now, journeying around the city and acting as a commoner was possible. So he demanded they get food from a special mom-and-pop food stand he claimed had the _best_ takeout in Fuyuki. Even though he was only an "advanced novice", runecraft opened up quite a few neat tricks. Besides reinforcing the durability and defensive power of his attire he could also perform basic bindings and even traps with some time. The only problem was that it had to be inscribed on a medium. Maeve had warned him that grafting runes into his skin was possible theoretically but would end like most instances of the past: Gruesome death. Or insanity, whichever came first.

As they were walking to recover their takeout, loud careless clangs of someone beating down steel attracted the pair towards a library. They discovered a true giant of a man and a whelp of a foreigner shouting furious English at the larger man. Both Magus Killer and assistant were quick to notice the command seals and when Kiritsugu got a better angle of the master he was able to identify it as Waver Velvet.

They may have killed him then if either of them had weaponry or a servant of their own. For now, they agreed to just keep an eye on the boy. He could prove useful in the future as bait for Kayneth.

"Still hasn't left?" He asked over the light breeze of the night.

"Negative. Target has remained indoors for the past seven hours." Maiya replied, casually adjusting the scope on the sight as the wind slightly turned.

Kiritsugu moved beside her, kneeling on the cold concrete while taking the rifle out of her hands. "You should get some sleep, I'll take over." He commanded, peering into the rife sight and targeting the silhouette in the window.

"Yes, sir. Do you wish for me to meet with Irisviel and Saber when they arrive later today?" She questioned, getting silence as an answer while Kiritsugu adjusted to be more comfortable.

"Negative. Tomorrow you should investigate potential hideouts of the other masters. We'll want to find Kayneth El-Melloi. If personality descriptions are anything to go off of, look through the luxury buildings of the Shinto area." He ordered, listening to her steps as she exited the roof and returned to their room.

He lifted his head from the rifle to briefly check his watch. 2:35 in the morning. Only a few more hours until daybreak. Nestling his head back on the cheek pad, he closed one eye to get a better view through the scope.

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The sound of waves.

Crashing against an endless beach of pure white sand, was an ocean that seemed to stretch to the end of the Earth. In the sky, fluffy white clouds which partly concealed a sunset. Rays of sun glittered over the waves of the ocean like a scene straight out of an art museum. Kiritsugu turned and marvelled at the sky split in two. One half, the brilliant reds, oranges and purples of a sunset and the other half, a pitch black night sky with sparkling stars and dazzling moonglow. An impossibly straight line split these two parts straight up from somewhere deeper into the land away from the ocean. Even though half the sky was dark, the land below was illuminated as if it were midday, another confusing element.

Away from the endless ocean, was a golden field of wheat, as well as a virgin meadow of grass and coloured flowers. As a sea breeze blew across Kiritsugu's back, he felt at ease by the scents alone. Fresh, tropical salty air, the light bread-like scent of cereal grains alongside the smell of freshly mown grass and sweet blooming flowers. The scents of a perfectly natural world, or a perfectly tranquil world. It was the most peaceful vista Kiritsugu had ever been to.

Yes, the Magus Killer _was_ disgracing the land. This was another dream again. These were becoming more and more surreal with each experience although something was different this time. The first had been gritty but bearable. Combat was something Kiritsugu was familiar with - his own death, less so. The second, an absolute hell which still gripped at his heart and mind when he thought back to it. And now this, the third - a world of absolute peace and serenity. He felt incredibly out of place as if his being here was disturbing something on a level he couldn't fully experience as a human. Something - someone - some force, was subtly telling him to exit. So he walked along the border of the meadow and the field of grain, away from the sea. He didn't know how to "get out" of here anyway, so this was his only option.

As if the world were building itself as he moved, the horizon expanded to his front and contracted from his rear. It was as if the world only constructed itself around Kiritsugu as if he were the creator and without him, this world wouldn't exist. In the distance - a hill appeared. It was a single small thing which was positioned exactly on the linear divide between the grassy meadow and the golden wheat field. Unlike the two areas it sat upon, the surface of the hill was a dull, cracked brown clay. It stuck out from the rest of its surroundings like a sore thumb, actually exuding a strange aura. Kiritsugu couldn't quite place his finger on the definitive emotion, but sadness, regret and betrayal both leapt to mind.

On the crest of the hill sat a man impaled with several long swords, leaning onto another generic straight sword and catching his breath while his blood dripped onto the cracked clay below. Kiritsugu couldn't tell if there was something wrong with his own eyes or if the area he was in was doing something to obscure his vision since all finer details of the man were lost. The man could have been a black blob and Kiritsugu would have believed it. The edges of his frame bulged, wavered and blurred continuously as if he were made of shadows. This effect only existed with the dying man on the hill, however. It was as if whatever force was maintaining this world, didn't want Kiritsugu seeing who the dying man was.

Something pulled Kiritsugu's attention to the grassy meadow and in the distance. Running towards the impaled man on the sword, was a woman in silver and blue. She was shouting, shouting "S̸̬̎̔̋͘h̸̺̼̩̍̈́̍̔̀-̵̤̪̠̻̰̊̃#̴̝̗́̐&̶͕̪̭͇͊͆o̸͓̬̊́̀!" over and over at the man on the hill. He straightened, and seem to recover his energy as he took a shaky step off the hill towards the nearing woman. Every time she said what Kiritsugu assumed to be this strange man's name, the world shook as if frightened by the syllables.

Kiritsugu recognized the sprinting girl, it was Saber, his servant, King Arthur. Her armour disappeared in a flash of magical blue sparks. Clad only in her common clothes, she continued running towards the impaled man. The swords in his body disappeared in the same fashion her armour had, and the man continued shakily moving off his hill into the knee height grass below. Kiritsugu had also been walking forwards towards where they would meet, squinting and trying to see the details of the strange man through the shadows.

The two were close now, but with each step, Kiritsugu made forwards, time seemed to slow until he was within arms reach - where everything stopped completely. Saber and this man had their arms extended, fingers merely inches apart but still separated. As close as he was, Kiritsugu still couldn't see anything beyond the inky abyss of the formerly impaled man. Something like the strange force from before told him that this individual _was_ indeed a man. That he was important to Saber, that he was… His own salvation? Unsure of how to proceed, Kiritsugu made one more step forward, then immediately regretted he had.

The world cracked like glass; with a sound to match. The tranquil scene around him shattered into a billion uncountable pieces that sharded around him. In the darkness, he felt light, but heavy at the same time. Hot but cold, small but impossibly large. It only lasted a moment, however, as the world suddenly rebuilt itself from the shards and formed into an entirely new realm.

What had been oceans, fields and meadows surrounding him was now a monotonous expanse of bland, cracked clay and dirt. The once beautiful sky of sunset and moonlight had been replaced with dull tans and browns, an ugly shade which almost blended into the soil below. The clouds and stars were replaced with impossibly massive gears, turning in an intricate system with awe-inspiring complexity and scale. All around Kiritsugu, across the endless horizon and falling down from the very sky - were blades. Scimitars, daggers, greatswords, axes, spears. If it had a blade, it existed here and seemed to have numerous brothers. Behind Kiritsugu, came the _shink_ of one of these blades as it impaled itself in the clay. Turning to examine it, he found a battered blade which had chunks missing and innumerable cracks lined its surface. While he examined the freshly fallen blade, something about these weapons stood out to Kiritsugu. Without hearing a voice, without ever having been here before - he knew that each of these swords represented a death. Perhaps the death of their owner's or the death of an innocent but a death nonetheless. Whoever owned this world used blades as a tally system. Was it to indicate failures? Was this Kiritsugu's fate? Would his actions to skew fate send him on a course of countless failures? But how could he become a servant, none of his actions labelled him as a hero. By all accounts, he would be a villain or… No… No! He wouldn't accept the call of the Counter Force, he wouldn't! He knew that accepting that binding was a curse worse than death. All his life he had done deeds in order to stop the Counter Force from forming, would he really become what he had been trying to stop? Kiritsugu snapped from his inner turmoil and refocused on the world ahead of him.

Beyond the sword, was that same small hill from before. Near its base, was a more condensed ring of weapons which shone with magical power, the more powerful blades collected by this world's owner. They sectioned off the hill and formed a makeshift path which lead to the top. Along this path, the man from before walked, unobscured by the shadows this time. Blades protruded from his entire body and blood dripped profusely from the wounds. Stubbornly he staggered to the peak of his perch. Within his hand was a sword, being used as a cane to assist his journey. The sword was magnificent; a blue handle, a golden hilt and a blade which almost hurt to look at from the brightness. Some sort of inscriptions sat above the hilt of the blade, but Kiritsugu couldn't make it out from this far away.

Finding his legs wouldn't work, Kiritsugu could only watch the man climb his hill. Ashen white hair and well-tanned skin. Shoulders to wrists were covered in crimson garb. The two pieces of material only covered that area, separated at the back but bound together by a metal band. Around his waist, was a sort of skirting of the same crimson colour which flowed down to the back of his knees. Every other element of his attire was black with accents of silver, although much of it blended into the crimson cloth due to the soaking of blood. As the man in crimson neared the top of his hill, the blade in his hand was hefted up to the sky, shining out brilliantly through the dull world like a lighthouse. Just as quickly as it had gone up, the blade fell and in one swift motion, it was slammed halfway into the cracked clay. As if an extension of the blade, the man fell to his knees and lowered his head.

"I'm sorry." He said, voice as loud as if he were right beside Kiritsugu. It didn't hold any sadness or anger. Simply a hollow tone of regret. "I had no choice." He continued, pain edging into his words as well. Even as the man leaned more and more into the blade, succumbing to his wounds, he did not shed a tear. Rather than cry, a small smile adorned his face. Kiritsugu squinted to see the face of the impaled man but before he could get any details the swordsman slumped to the ground. All at once, the impossibly massive gears stopped moving and began to fall apart - and fall from the sky. Kiritsugu looked up in time to see a massive cog falling directly on top of him, mere feet away from crushing his comparatively small body.

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Kiritsugu awoke with a start, eyes snapping open before slamming shut as soon as they could when the bright sun above threatened to burn his retinas. He stood and cracked open his eyes, letting them naturally adjust before brushing out the sleep. When he was done, Kiritsugu verified his surroundings and let out a tense sigh. He was back on the roof, slightly away from the parapet of the building where his rifle was leaning. Shakily, he sat on the same parapet and drooped his head between his knees. Through a shaky breath, he ran both hands through his hair and checked the time. 10:13, Iri and Saber would arrive soon, Maiya was most likely off to complete her objective by this point. Had that dream been related to him like the other two? Or was that a dream of his servant? Or… Had it originally been a dream of his servant, but taken over by whatever force revealed his other two dreams? There were so many options, and Kiritsugu didn't have any answers.

Well… He did have one answer at least. Perhaps contemplating it would alleviate his mind. Reaching into a pocket of his trench coat, Kiritsugu withdrew a simple pager. Pressing the send button, a light flared up in the distance, before a shockwave accompanied by the sound of a large explosion shook the building Kiritsugu was standing on top of. _Now_ he was out of answers.

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"The entire church? The _entire_ church!?" He shouted, mouth agape and eyes wide. "What sort of maniac would plant explosives to destroy a church?" He nearly screamed, raising his arms in exasperation as he paced the dimly lit basement. Tokiomi was on most occasions, a very civilized and demure individual. But when some psychopath blew a church, the home of the overseer and temporary haven of his accomplice in crime, into the sky - he definitely had a reason to freak out.

Kirei had died, but Risei had survived. It was just before the afternoon, so he was tending to a small flower garden a bit away from the church. Risei had started that little habit of his after a rather empty woman visited the church a few years back. She commented an interest in flowers and the hobbyist in him went to work attempting to see if he could fill those empty eyes of hers. Risei was injured but would survive, thankfully. Currently, he was in the hospital recovering. Tokiomi counted his blessings that his friend survived. While not a direct participant, having the Overseer on your side was obviously advantageous. On top of that, if the overseer _had_ died, the Church would come down on the Grail War participants like the damned Counter Force. Tokiomi couldn't risk visiting his friend, that would raise too many eyebrows - even if he was a well-known Overseer.

From what Archer had gathered, the church violently and suddenly exploded without a single itch of magecraft. Archer himself hadn't even detected explosives when he visited the church, which meant the task of planting them had been done by an expert… Still… Wouldn't Assassin have seen the bombs? Being themselves an expert in sneaky underhanded moves, wouldn't their first priority be to secure their masters base?

Something was wrong here, and it sent a chill up Tokiomi's spine. Could it have been another servant, greater in skill than Assassin with explosives? It wasn't impossible, but incredibly unlikely. Tohsaka continued thinking while pacing, looking back in his memories for clues. Caster was out, there hadn't been any signs of the magic user but the explosives themselves were conventional. Assassin had no reason to bomb themselves, that was stupid. Archer, not a chance. Saber, Lancer, Rider all were definitely not the cause. It left only Berserker, who could very well be insane enough to destroy a holy building for no explainable reason. But they would have been detected by Assassin themselves, wouldn't they?

Kirei had mumbled to himself about another master when he was alive. What was his name… Kristigo… Emblem? Tokiomi moved to his collection of paper scrolls written by his pendulum, taking one and reading off the list he frowned. No, he had misremembered. The man in question was Kiritsugu Emiya. When the name had been revealed to him, Tokiomi hardly gave it a second glance. With Gilgamesh as a servant, nobody in the entire war could pose a threat to him. Reading over the document, Tokiomi paled visibly. Explosives, subterfuge, bounded field dismantling, ballistics, time altering magic. The man's skills were designed for only one thing - Murder. Unfortunately, his alias as the Magus Killer held weight, as already he had killed a very skilled Executor with the push of a button.

 _Damnit_ , _damnit!_ Everything was going wrong already. With a shout of fury, Tokiomi swept his hand across a table and flung a stack of books around the room.

"Ho-ho." Came a pompous noise from behind him, the clanking of golden armour making itself apparent. Tohsaka's back straightened and the hair on his neck prickled. "Tokiomi, I was inclined to believe you were a more reclusive, controlled individual. Throwing books around the room offers an amusing new light into your character."

Already Gilgamesh was proving hard to control. Tokiomi had believed that absolute subservience would appease the servant but even in their brief amount of time together he could tell that the Golden King was getting _bored_. Unfortunately, this increased his irritability. Subservience wasn't entertaining which left the King of Kings needy and wishing to roam. Tokiomi let him of course - how could he refuse? Thankful that his venturing had resulted in nothing.

"My King." Tokiomi began, bowing deeply with an arm across his chest. "News has come regarding the War. Kirei has fallen and Assassin has been slain by extension. This has set back out plans immensely." Tokiomi relayed, slightly confused at the silence which followed. As he was about to speak, Gilgamesh suddenly laughed.

"Do you believe me to be that uninformed? Of course I had known - most likely before you." A subtle " _because I was there"_ was apparent. "It is a shame, I had intended to have quite an interesting time toying with that man," Gilgamesh revealed. He strode across the cold concrete floor of the basement and grimaced at the dusty tomes on the table. "Are you having doubts about my achieving victory in this War, Tokiomi?" Gilgamesh asked, voice edged with an overwhelming malice. The kind of tone which blatantly pronounced: Agree and die.

"N-not at all, my king. Merely acknowledging the loss of a potential source of… Entertainment." Tokiomi replied, pulling his words directly from his ass. He straightened from his bow and found the King of King's face momentarily stunned. Breaking into a boisterous, full laugh soon after.

"You _actually_ surprised me, Tokiomi. Continue to keep this up, and you may _just_ be allowed to grovel at my feet as I take hold of the Grail." He ended with a smile, fading out of the basement with golden sparks. Tokiomi let out a breath when he was gone. In all honesty, Gilgamesh scared the absolute shit out of him. Charisma poured out of the man, but that fierce glare, as well as his self-righteousness and pompous overbearing nature, made him terrifying. Tokiomi unceremoniously plopped down into a chair, rubbing his chin with one hand while he concocted a new plan to secure his victory - and the Root.

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Waver Velvet threw open the door of his new home, standing in the open and trying to find the location of the explosion that shook the ground. Squinting into the distance, he caught the beginning of a black cloud.

"There! Do you see it?" He asked nobody in particular, pointing in the direction of the forest. "I knew it was an explosion." The young mage frowned. "But that came from the direction of the church…"

A booming, gritty 'hm-hmm' came into his mind. "Indeed. It seems as if someone is playing dirty. Perhaps we should check our own property or investigate on foot, what do you think boy?" Rider asked, getting a groan in response.

"I don't think we'll find anything, in either place. But if it will make you happy then whatever, I'll have a look around and then we can see what happened. If we were found out then whoever had caused that, would do the same thing to us." Waver commented, walking around the sides of the house and checking to see if anything was out of place. The Mackenzie two-story home was a hybrid blend of Western and Eastern perspectives, although definitely more Western. With walls of wood, shingles for the roof and windows, it attempted to convey a quaint home with the subtle hint of near-modern Easternism. On the inside, were traditional tatami mats and in the bedroom, there were futons rather than beds. An average fence using rectangular sections of wood as well as hedges surrounded the property and provided privacy. All that located in the Miyama district, rather close to the river which was how Waver could see the smoke cloud off the church.

"I wouldn't be so sure, boy. With Assassin down, this must have been the work of another master. This master could view us as valuable and intends to keep us alive until that value runs out." Rider wisely commented.

Waver thought about it for a moment. "That's stupid. If a mage could pull off bombing the church of the Overseer, don't you think they would do their best to eliminate as many masters as possible so they can claim the Grail?" Waver asked, mumbling as he looked around the edge of the fence for anything out of place.

"Take a minute and think, boy! Why would a master who wished to claim the Grail try to kill the Overseer?" Rider chastised, trying to let his master figure out what he himself was deducing.

Waver did take a moment, grumbling something before his eyes opened wide and seemed to sparkle with sudden revelation. "The master must know something we don't! Which is why he's striking the most unlikely target in the most unpredictable way."

"Exactly! Now the only thing we need to find out is what this master knows about the war that we don't."

Waver felt a chill run down his back along with the sudden palpable feeling of being watched. "Huh?" He said aloud, turning to look behind himself. Nobody was there but he could have sworn… Maybe he just needed more sleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, murmuring to himself about coffee. "Wait a minute… Rider, how did you know that Assassin was the servant who died?"

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Mid-flight, Iri felt a surge of energy from the Holy Grail. Releasing a gasp, she clutched at her chest. The feeling was difficult to describe. Like an inky black vice just tightened around her heart a bit, pulling strength out of her body. If she tried to focus on this new energy surrounding her core, she found odd whispers invading her mind. She couldn't discern what they were saying as they were in an unfamiliar tongue. But simply hearing the syllables sent chills down her spine.

Saber, who was sitting beside her, gripped her arm. "Irisviel, is something the matter?" She asked, eyes full of concern. Irisviel had to admit that Saber was a truly gorgeous woman. With all the qualities that defined a woman as cute, vibrant and young, a contrast to Irisviel herself. Kiritsugu had at one point called her a more regal, mature beauty. She still didn't understand what that meant, but her heart had fluttered when she first heard it. For their journey, and because Saber could not de-materialize, Kiritsugu had gone out and purchased a black suit for her. It was well made and tailored to her body. How he had gathered the measurements, Iri didn't wish to know. But the suit amplified her appearance by contrasting the ideals of a strong independent woman and a young, innocent girl.

Iri's face of pain and discomfort slowly smiled. She rested the hand that had been on her own chest upon Saber's gloved hand. "I'm fine. It was just…" She paused, struggling to find a way to word her thoughts. "A servant has fallen." She decided, watching the shock splay over Saber's face, secretly finding a little pleasure in surprising the One True King.

"How can you be sure?" Saber asked, unbelieving that a servant had already fallen. She wasn't even on the ground of Fuyuki yet. "Do you know how they were slain, or who?"

Iri shook her head. "No, but trust me in this. I bet Kiritsugu knows how it happened, I'll ask him when I can." She explained, facing out the window on her right and peering down at the coast of Japan.

"Yes, Kiritsugu seems to be a man of extensive resources and information." Saber stated, opening her mouth again as if she wanted to speak further before closing it. Perhaps she was contemplating the wording, as she did voice her concern later. "Irisviel, I've been meaning to ask however I did not wish to question his tactics: Why is it that I am not fighting alongside Kiritsugu?"

Iri had wondered how long it would take for Saber to ask that question, as well as a few others. She had tried working up lies to tell the King and had developed a rather solid one. But now, staring into Saber's emerald eyes she found that lying was the last thing on her mind. Iri actually felt her cheeks grow hot from the glare she was receiving alone. "Kiritsugu has decided that it would be best if I were to work alongside you." She began, deciding on the entire truth. "His first reason was that, other masters would believe me to be your master and would not think to look for him. The second was so that I could provide healing magic for you during combat and the third was because…" She trailed off, eyes glazing over for a minute for refocusing. "Because he believes you would not work together very well." She admitted, watching the King of Knights cock her head to the side in confusion.

"I do not understand, why would Kiritsugu feel that way? I understand the merits to secrecy. However, we are both skilled tacticians and collaborating to develop a plan would increase our chances at victory." Saber's brow furrowed in agitation when Iri laughed at that. "Irisviel why is it that you laugh at my expense?"

"I'm sorry Saber, I'm not laughing at you. More at the thought of you and Kiritsugu working together." She defused, shaking her head and tossing ashen hair around her shoulders. "Unfortunately, you and Kiritsugu hold different ideals and if you were to be forced around one another you would never get anything done. Don't hold it against him, his goal is to achieve his wish and this has been the route he has chosen."

"I still don't understand." Saber began, but leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes. "But I will have faith in you and my master to make the best decisions, it is my responsibility as a servant." She declared, leaving it at that.

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The plane touched down peacefully and Saber escorted Iri off like she were a real princess or - at the very least - an expensive piece of glassware. Removing her glove, she took Iri's pale hand and lead her down the stairs towards a waiting car. After getting in and travelling about halfway to their destination, the two women began to talk and Iri revealed she had never truly been outside of the castle before today. Taking pity on her, Saber elected that they journey through the city - and subsequently the rest of their way - on foot. Kiritsugu wouldn't have condoned it but thankfully, she knew he would forgive her.

"So where would you like to go first, Irisviel?" Saber asked, replacing the glove she had removed to assist Iri out of the car. Noticing her blunder, Saber quickly opened her mouth to correct herself. If she hadn't been watching, Iri would have missed the slight colour rising to Saber's face. "That is to say… Ah…" She flustered, looking around and spotting something in the distance. "Perhaps we should gauge local culinary skills?" She asked, voice suddenly tinged with the excitement of a young child. Iri could only smile, perhaps Illya had rubbed off on the King of Knights a little bit more than she had expected.

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Irisviel already spent all of the money Kiritsugu had given her. More than three hundred dollars American (supposedly a country somewhere) in food which found itself at the bottom of Saber's seemingly endless stomach. It was supposed to be for Irisviel herself, but she actually found more enjoyment in feeding Saber than she probably would have buying treats for herself.

"Are you sure you do not want some? The chef had called this _Ikayaki_ and I must say that the name does not relate to its taste." Saber proposed, digging into her own dish - which looked like a grilled… thing, on a stick. Smiling, Iri declined and looked towards the ocean, losing herself in the crashing waves. Something about the waves drew her attention. Maybe the slow graceful nature of the water or the boundless nature of the ocean. She vaguely heard her name but was unconcerned until it accompanied a commanding tone. "Irisviel?" Saber asked, getting her attention with a slightly raised voice before continuing. "I have a few questions, would you care to entertain them?"

For the King of Britain, she was awfully timid and careful to request permission before doing almost anything. It was kind of cute. "You don't need to ask for permission Saber, if you have a question simply ask and I'll provide an answer if I can." Iri clarified, looking into Saber's eyes with a smile. The fresh sea-side air was something so new and vibrant to Irisviel. Even with the tension of the Grail within her, she felt full of energy. The new sights, new smells and even new sounds were all so foreign and exciting she could hardly contain herself in the small plastic seat of their table. Now she understood why Illya always wanted to explore outside with Kiritsugu.

"Very well." She stated, setting down her food before wiping her hands and mouth with a napkin. "If I should fail to provide you and Kiritsugu the Grail, what will happen to Illyasviel?"

Iri flinched heavily as if the question had physically stabbed her in the shoulder. Immediately the King of Knights began apologizing for asking but Iri demanded that it was alright. After a moment of awkward silence, the conversation returned. "I don't like to think about it, to be honest. If I can't provide Illya with freedom through Kiritsugu's wish then… Well, she wouldn't have to fight in another Grail War at least. With all Acht has done to her, she'll most likely only last twenty years. The next war would be sixty years later." Iri stared at the dish Saber had halfway worked through, eyes blank and voice hollow as she tried not to think about the words she was saying. "Twenty is about as long as I would last if it weren't for the Grail War. Acht might simply have her killed or punished for her short time alive." She ended, mind connecting to the body as her eyes alighted with their usual sparkling happiness. The tone change was almost frightening, scarier yet when Iri smiled sadly.

Saber reflected this fear perfectly. "I had no idea." She paused, mentally chastising herself for asking in the first place. Suddenly she stood, much to Iri's surprise. "Then on my honour as a knight, I will show you all I can before we are required by the War." She nodded, removing her glove and offering her hand once more.

Taking it tentatively, Iri found herself being hauled to her feet and down the street at a pace that was difficult to maintain. "S-Saber! Where are we going!?" She shouted, trying to keep up as the smaller girl hauled her along the walkways and alleys.

"Towards the ocean! I've watched you stare at it for the entire afternoon!" Saber shot back with a laugh, relieved when Iri joined in with her. After a brief run, they made it to the edge of the ocean, laughter tapering off as they slowed. Iri could only marvel at the endless sheet of blue mere feet from her. After admiring her look of awe for some time, Saber suggested she step into the water. The returning glance she got was priceless. As if Saber had told her to leap into a vat of acid. She couldn't help but snicker at the response.

"Kiritsugu had told me of 'swimming pools', but he also told me how dangerous swimming in the ocean could be." She paused, looking back to the ocean, then her feet, then back to Saber and the ocean. Iri was wearing rather fine mid-thigh boots in white and tights beneath those. "Alright, I'll do it! But I won't go in too far. Can you hold onto my things?" She asked, getting a smiling nod as a response.

… … ...

Without her boots and leggings, Irisviel stepped out into the water, marvelling at how cold it was. Still, she pressed onwards and moved to knee height water. She enjoyed standing in the light waves of the evening, dipping her hand in the water and dancing lightly in the moonlight. Had it already been that long? When they arrived, the sun was setting.

So far this day had been more than she could have imagined. There were so many new experiences and with Saber accompanying her, she couldn't ask for better company. Well, that wasn't entirely true. If Kiritsugu and Illya could be with her as well, it would be perfect. "Irisviel." Saber called, taking over her attention.

The woman in question turned to look, then appeared blatantly saddened. "Of course you would notice it as well. I had merely hoped that I would have a little moment longer to explore with you before our duties would be required." She peered out towards Saber, who had her attention taken by the obvious beckoning of a servant in the distance. "Oh well, should we see who's looking for a fight?" Iri asked, malicious smile on her face.

… … ...

… ... ...

… … ...

Kiritsugu had been watching for some time. When the driver he hired informed him of Iri's excursion, he rapidly mobilized to provide a watch. Kiritsugu's plan was to use Saber as bait for El-Melloi. They would move off towards the docks where nobody would be during the night, far from the city. Then Saber would flare her ridiculously large mana pool as a challenge. That would draw the over-pompous mage in. Then they would inform him of Waver Velvet's location, and let the dominoes fall from there. Unfortunately, he had no way to contact Iri as the cellphone he recently bought for her was sitting in his coat pocket. The thing was bulky, but it was a technological wonder. Unable to brief Irisviel, they would be flying by wire. Packing up his sniper, Calico and Contender, Kiritsugu slipped on his gloves and moved to watch over Iri just in case he were needed.

However, nobody came, which left Irisviel and Saber to enjoy themselves. He had watched from a rooftop as they travelled, leaping from one building to another with the aid of some athletics to keep an eye on them. Irisviel had noticed and acknowledged him. The stare she gave directly towards him while Saber was eating assured that much. He fondly watched the two bond and even smiled as his wife enjoyed the ocean, although at that point he had to come onto the ground and watch from a distance. What had been an overwatch mission, turned into a distant admiration. Until a flare of mana from the docks wiped the smile from his face.

Someone else had taken his exact idea. Reaching into his coat for his own cell phone, he dialled up Maiya and informed her of the situation. She would be there before him which was advantageous to their position. She could secure the area and verify the targets. He was moving before Saber even notified Iri, intending to aid his wife in her first battle.

… … …

… … …

He was simply too fast, too unpredictable. With two spears, Lancer effectively had her on the ropes. She had come out strong, acting offensive and getting into his guard. However, that may have been the wrong choice, as now his strikes were much more coordinated and he was no longer afraid to step within striking distance. Had he learned her style and her weapon so easily? Her eyes flickered from the short golden spear in his right and the long red spear in the left. Or perhaps he was just that skilled.

Which spear was his noble phantasm? She didn't have much longer to think. Lancer moved into her range, changing up the hands which held each spear in mid-charge. Saber lifted her sword to catch and send the golden spear downwards. It had been swung at her side - a simple attack. Just as she was preparing to step on the weapon and advance, Lancer threw the red lance to his side and gripped it near the blunt end, intending to take her neck with a wide slash. Her blade snapped upwards, halting his attack near the hilt of her blade. The strike was too weak and out of his fulcrum, so it bounced off.

Saber gasped, the spear redoubled in speed along the ground as it attempted to claim her ankles. Saber leapt upwards into a side roll, landing deftly on the ground and barely raising her sword in time to absorb another rain of blows. Two strikes, then a crushing overhand with the long spear. With a small distance between them, she caught a gasp of breath. She hadn't even really heard Lancer as he spoke during their combative lull., deciding in her mind to take on the offensive, the swordswoman moved forwards. She the red spear to make the first strike, leaving her blade vertical at chest height, leaping forward and deflecting the crimson lance downwards as it lashed out predictably. Just as quickly, the sword snapped back up horizontally to catch the golden spear just above her shoulder. With a noise of slight exertion, she advanced forwards with her sword sparking along the edge of his spear as she neared him and saw his eyes expand in surprise, she pushed her blade out in a strike meant to sever his head from the neck. In a display of raw athleticism, the spearman managed to twist out of her attack and behind her. As she turned around to face him, a line of red appeared on his cheek. He was fast but also was unable to see the tide of battle like she was.

… … …

The first blows were traded long ago, these were most likely the third dozenth strike. Heroic Spirits really did live up to their names. The battle was so fast, Kiritsugu would have missed the fact there was a fight taking place had he not arrived before it started. A cursory scanning of the docks with a thermal scope found nothing.

It appeared that Saber made the first draw of blood if Lancer touching his cheek was any indication. Iri was standing a comfortable distance behind Saber, watching with tense shoulders. The two servants clashed weapons, over and over, sparks and the sound of ringing metal shrieking through the docks. He continued scanning the area with the thermal scope, looking atop sea cans, near the edges of the docks and on top of a wareho- Wait a moment, something was there. In the scope, a bright white silhouette of a man. Moving his head to the normal scope, Kiritsugu made a snort. Kayneth El-Melloi, right out in the open like a fool. Reaching up, Kiritsugu toggled the microphone on his earpiece.

"Northeast of Saber and Lancer on top of the first warehouse near the center. Its Lancer's master, do you have eyes?" Kiritsugu asked, carefully extending the bipod of his rifle and lying on the metal floor of the crane he was currently atop.

After a few seconds, he got word back from the familiar cold voice of Maiya. "Negative, should I move to strike?"

"Hold position, I'll take him from here," Kiritsugu stated, focusing on his breathing while aligning the rifle on the heart of his target. He briefly noticed that the clashing of weaponry had stopped, and before he could think about pulling the trigger, Lancer's master moved. Not out of his sight, but enough to force Kiritsugu to readjust. At the same time of his movement, a voice echoed throughout the docks - like it were on a loudspeaker. Magical projection no doubt.

An overly confident and extremely pompous voice began. "That is more than enough talking, Lancer. End this battle now - unleash your noble phantasm." He stated. The silhouette lifted a foot to rest on a slightly raised section of the warehouse roof. The shot was perfect, center mass aligned at a forty-five-degree angle. Firing now would pierce a lung and the heart.

 _Breath-in, breath-out, apply pressure to the trigger, breath-in, verify scope position, breath-out, slightly squeeze._ The round left the muzzle at nearly one kilometre per second, taking only one-tenth of a second to travel from Kiritsugu to the identified Kayneth. But as the bullet was supposed to make contact, something intercepted it.

The sound of shrieking metal and the squish of a fleshy body sounded. That first sound confused Kiritsugu. Why would it - oh. Standing in front of where Kayneth had been, rose a large wall of metal. A small hole sat where his chest had been, and blood sprays were visible on the outside surface of this sudden wall. So that's how he intended to play. Some sort of autonomous construct took most of the bullet's energy and allowed him to survive, barely. There was no point firing again, the impact alone would have pushed Kayneth off the roof and that metal wall was blocking his view. Not to mention a second shot would attract the attention of the servants. The first was unpredictable and hard to hear in the midst of battle, it would go unnoticed.

"Maiya, target wounded and fleeing to the north, move quickly and try to engage. Be careful, he's guarded by some sort of autonomous metal construct."

"Copy that, moving." She replied. Kiritsugu stood and put the sniper into a sling attached on his back. Climbing along the roofs of Fuyuki had taught him that having open hands was sometimes more advantageous than having a weapon out at all times. So he bought a sling for his rifle. Not wasting any time in concealing himself, Kiritsugu moved behind the crane before peaking down at the battlefield where Saber had been. Lancer and her seemed to be conversing, with the former of the two glancing back and forth between his target and the previous location of his master. He nodded towards the King of Knights, then suddenly leapt off away from the battlefield.

"Maiya, incoming servant!" Kiritsugu said with a little more panic than he intended, toggling the microphone off and awaiting a response. Sending mana through the runes inscribed in his clothes, Kiritsugu leapt over the handrail of the crane and landed on the hard pavement below. Rather than shatter his legs, the clothes distributed the impact evenly through his entire body. With slight reinforcement of his bones and muscles - which he trained with Maeve - the landed was almost soft. He moved through the seacans back towards a hole in the fence he had originally entered from.

"Master!" Or he would have, anyway. The voice came from Saber, there wasn't any doubt. In response to his name being called, his shoulders lifted and his head shot down like a scolded child. Caught.

Three days ago, he thought his head would find itself displaced from his neck. Now though, with the tone of her voice - he was outright prepared for it. Thankfully she wasn't at the point of violence, as she simply moved behind him and glared into his spine.

… … …

… … …

"Saber, are you using focused wind mana to keep your blade concealed? No doubt for good reason. Would it be because the blade reveals your identity?" The spearman said with a smirk, body exuding confidence and the thrill of a good fight. He had dropped the shorter yellow spear, deciding on using the now unravelled red spear. The aura it produced was ominous. Saber made a noise - a blunder on her part, as Lancer's smile only widened. "I _will_ discover whatever it is you're hiding, Saber." And just like that, he was upon her once more. A simple thrust, but as she deflected the spear, Invisible Air gave way and revealed the gleaming sun-like blade beneath. Their blades were locked for seconds as shock ran through Saber.

On reflexes, she leapt back, blinking at her blade which had returned to its normal invisible state. _His spears are able to disrupt Invisible Air?_ She questioned in her mind, eyes widening as a thrust nearly took off her ankle. She leapt back, smoke obscuring the view forwards. Her mind suddenly screamed _right!_ And she darted her head in response. The tip of the crimson spear grazed her left ear. _Left!_ Her instincts burned, and the body responded. Stray hairs off the right side of her head were sliced clean off as the bloodthirsty lance tried to find purchase. His strikes were twice as fast as they were before, his technique more fluid. Even though he wielded two spears with extreme finesse, using one was obviously his better option. A strike for the arm, barely missing her elbow. Unable to even comprehend what her body was doing, she dipped her shoulder to avoid another blow, then hit the ground to dodge a slashing attack which cleared the debris dust from her front. Standing, her body screamed to duck once again, but her body was already moving in one direction, up. Rather than reverse her movement, she simply leaned her body backwards into a roll. The tip of the crimson spear could have been used to shave a slice off her nose like deli meat but it only managed to slice off a longer portion of her hair. This was the true speed of a Lancer?

The backwards roll gave her time to take a breath - but nothing more. The spear was thrust and her blade moved to defend. A blow to the chest, to the arm, the thigh, her hip. Each strike against her blade released a bright flash of golden light from the material beneath Invisible Air. Attempting to gain the advantage during a lull in his strikes, Saber ground her sabaton into the pavement, creeping forwards and making a strike which was met halfway by the red lance. Even with Mana Burst aiding in the power behind her blows, Lancer was able to rattle her arms with his attacks. The ground around them exploded upwards, chunks of pavement and idle dust on the ground blew up to about head level from the force before the next parried blow scattered the raised debris in every direction. The true power of a Lancer.

He was smirking, twirling the spear in his hand before lowering it to the ground. "I know the length of that blade now. I won't let my master down. Go, _**Gae Dearg!**_ " Lancer shouted, spear shining a foul crimson shade in response to its name as his attacks redoubled in intensity. Saber continued maintaining the defensive, she had to learn the weapon and its capabilities before even _trying_ to move on the offensive.

The lance struck at an impossible rate. A thrust, a slash into a reverse jab with the blunted end. All were aimed at joints and vitals. A miscalculated parry sent the weapon skirting across her gauntlet, curiously not making sparks at it carried on harmlessly to her right. Saber had enough, suddenly gritting her teeth and crying out as she parried his weapon and planted a sabaton directly into the spearman's chest. With a crunch, he flew backwards several dozen feet. Lancer tumbled along the ground a few times before scrambling to his feet and lunging forwards like a feral dog. Saber lifted her blade and prepared to strike the weapon down towards the ground. If he carried on, he would be severed in two. But Lancer twisted his body and planted his feet into the pavement. Saber gasped and her mind showed her the incoming scenario.

 _His feet spread, he would stop short and the spear would miss her weapon by inches. But he knew this, he wanted her to miss in striking down his weapon, it would leave her wide open. His spear would slip right past her guard into her chest before she could lift her sword and cut her from shoulder to shoulder. But, if she took a step to the side, she could move out of his attacking range into an area where he would be unbalanced. The spear tip would glance off her shoulder and her blade would lodge itself in his spine. She would trade a glancing blow for a decisive strike._

Deciding on her path, Saber held her blade high, taking a step to the side but awkwardly moving onto a dislodged piece of pavement. The uneven surface sent her off her intended path and positioned her too close to follow through. The glancing blow she had intended to take, would turn into a direct hit to her chest. Thankfully, it would no longer be directly straight on. Which meant her breastplate would deflect the blow into her shoulder - so it wouldn't be a decisive strike on her end. However, when the spear tip reached her armour, her eyes widened as blood poured from her chest. It had passed straight through and clean out her back. Gritting her teeth through the searing pain, her sword descended and cut Lancer from his hip to just below his ribs. Since he didn't wear proper armour, his flesh sliced open like a Christmas ham. Both of them cried out in agony and both weapons withdrew from one another. Falling to the ground, the pair grunted in pain, sprawling along the pavement and clenching their muscles as they tried to stand and continue fighting.

"A well thought out blow, Lancer." Saber growled, pushing herself up off the cold asphalt with a gauntlet-clad hand.

"An efficient recovery and retaliatory strike," Lancer replied, gripping his spear and using it as a hold. "I expected nothing less from the King of Knights."

Blood spewed from Saber's mouth as she coughed violently. "Saber!" Came a shriek from behind. Suddenly a warm feeling washed over her body. "Are you alright?" The voice asked, actually forcing Saber to realize she was in fact perfectly fine. Coughing a glob of mucus and blood out of her throat, Saber gripped her sword tightly and pushed herself off the ground. One hand immediately went to her chest when she was standing to confirm her suspicions. Her breastplate was unharmed, which could only mean…

"I see now Lancer, that spear - Gae Dearg - disperses mana around its edge. Is this correct, Diarmuid of the Love Spot?" She commented, still touching her breastplate in disbelief. She allowed Lancer to stand, managing to do so even with his wound dripping blood down his legs. She watched as his skin stitched itself up. Obviously, Lancer had a healer on standby as well.

"Wise of you to discover its ability, even if after the first real strike." Lancer conceded, wiping a bit of dirt from his face "Excellent trading of blows. King of Knights, wielder of Excalibur - shall we proceed?" Lancer asked, smirk returning before turning into shock almost as fast. "Master…" He murmured, turning behind himself to look at the roof of a warehouse. "Something had happened to my master." He commented idly, spear tip lowering to scrape the pavement.

"Lancer," Saber commanded, lowering her blade as well. "Go to your master's side, if he is in danger it is your responsibility to protect him." Saber nodded with a stern look.

Lancer's face softened. "My thanks, Saber. However, do not believe our duel is over. I shall take pleasure in finishing it the next time we meet." He stated, turning quickly and leaping off to the roof of a nearby warehouse.

"As will I, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

… … …

… … …

"Why? Why would you disrupt our fight in such a dishonest manner?" Saber asked, voice and face full of fury. She was baffled. Her master had _used_ her to get a chance at killing another master, the master of a distinctly honest knight. It went against everything she stood for, it was… It was… Her mind went back, mere hours ago to the airplane.

" _Unfortunately, you and Kiritsugu hold different ideals and if you were to be forced around one another you would never get anything done. Don't hold it against him, his goal is to achieve his wish and this has been the route he has chosen."_

Was this what Irisviel had meant? Kiritsugu turned, and the cold look in his eyes actually made her whole body chill. He didn't tense or seem frightened by her anger. He just stared into her eyes with an unnatural dead gaze. "I did what I believed had to be done to follow the easiest route." He stated, jaw tight with determination.

Saber gaped, blinking as her hand unconsciously tightened around the grip of her blade. "I don't understand. Kirit- Master, what you have done is dishonest. Disturbing a fight between two knights is an insult to my honour. The act makes me question your righteousness as a person. Do you have no sense of morality? No guilt? Regrets? I revealed to you my life, expecting us to share a similar goal only to have all my trust thrown back at my face. Irisviel has vouched for your character and incredible ability. You have shown nothing but graceful qualities with Illya so why-why do you disregard all sanctity of combat now? Without rules to battle, what stops hell from becoming reality?" Saber paused, anger growing at the silence she received as a response. "Answer me! Do you have no honour!?"

With never before seen emotion, the man stepped forward, face set in steaming rage. "Honour? Honour and _chivalry_? Did you learn nothing at Camlann? Your own son's blood staining your hands? After Lancelot and the other knights abandoned you even though you were the perfect king? Do you not understand that every battlefield is hell with or without supposed _rules_? Chivalry has always been a lie. Something which only served to inspire young men into fighting a war they believed would be _fair._ "

He lifted a hand. For a moment she thought he would strike her. Instead, he pulled off the glove of one hand and revealed the bare skin underneath to her. "My entire life has been nothing but death. I've ended thousands of lives with my own two hands, more if you include the tools I've used. From one battlegrounds to aftermaths to crimes, I've experienced all forms of death." He began, staring _through_ her with those piercing dark eyes. The way this was going, she was prepared to strike him down at a moment's notice. "At the same time, I've saved a hundred times that many by killing just those few. My hands may be stained, but they are justified in their actions. If you believe there can be honour or grace in war then you're still just a naive little girl. In my life, I've experienced hell on Earth - too many times. Even my dreams..." He paused, perhaps regaining his sense before revealing sensitive information. She would let him speak, so far she was rather appalled at his outburst.

"I've seen the ends of two Grail Wars. One of them held my death at the hands of Kirei Kotomine - the deceased master of Assassin. I've made sure to kill him before that end could unfold. I believe that by doing so, a new ending has been created - something far, far worse." He menaced, eyes dimming even further as the memories of that inescapable hellscape flooded back in front of his eyes. "Thousands will die, maybe tens of thousands - I don't know. I don't even know if it's by my hands or not. It could be caused by you, or another servant. Perhaps even the Grail itself." He said, eyes latching onto her accusingly. "But whatever it is, the end result kills indiscriminately near the center of the Shinto region. The rubble of the buildings were evidence of that. Men, women and _children_ all burn to death but continue burning beyond when they should have died. There was so much fire and it was cursed. It left those it attached to alive while causing them intense pain. Out of the hundreds of bodies, I found in that dream, only a single one - a child - still had life in them. If they would even function as a proper human being after experiencing that travesty I don't know.

He paused again as if thinking about it while trying to will himself _not_ to think such a thing. "If this War can be the cause of that, then my only goal is to stop it from ever happening again - as well as preventing that outcome in the first place." He paused, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his fists. "I don't know how, but I know that I will need your help to accomplish that goal. If you refuse to assist me, then you may as well end one of our lives right now."

Saber took a few steps back, lowering her head and clenching her fists. "... What is your wish?" She asked quietly after some time.

"My wish?" He asked, affirming the question in his own mind. It was strange that something that peculiar had been her only question. "My wish is the end of all conflict, the halting of injustice. In my path to accomplishing that, I'll limit casualties to the best of my ability and only kill those standing in my way. There's no way I can turn back now, It's been my goal since." He pulled the glove back over his hand, then suddenly his head snapped to look behind Saber. "Servants… Irisviel!" He shouted, sprinting past Saber as if she weren't even there. The woman hardly had a moment to think, before she realized she had left Irisviel all alone. In a burst of speed, she blew past Kiritsugu to perform her duty as a knight.

… … …

Kiritsugu made it to the battlefield a little after Saber, trying not to fall in the large gashes cut into the pavement by both spear and sword. In the sky, roaring with laughter like a madman was some brute in a chariot. Squinting, Kiritsugu recognized the chariot-rider as Waver Velvet's servant. The Magus Killer unconsciously felt the weight of his Contender within his coat. He had no idea what would happen to a servant hit by Origin rounds and he hoped he would never need to find out. Rather than stick around and be found out he decided to slink behind a sea-can and go with his preferred method of operation - recon. Saber was much more suited for a direct assault anyway - and she was loyal to Iri at least.

Irisviel moved back away from where she was standing, moving into the battle-torn area and facing the water. Saber stood ahead of her and brought up her invisible blade. The chariot came in quickly from the sky but slowed and settled down near the edge of the water. Lightning crackled from the wheels and the bulls snorted while pawing the pavement. The man in red threw his head back in tandem with both arms. His eyes were closed but upon opening he was confused.

"Hm? I thought there were two servants here." He commented, pulling one massive arm back to scratch the top of his head.

"Thoughts and realities are often two separate things. Who are you and why would you wish to disturb a battle of knights?" Saber retorted, locking her arms with the sword at chest height.

"So it was another of the knight classes who had battled you, was it? Archer or Lancer?" The man asked, suddenly looking behind him on the chariot. "Boy, are you not going to introdu-" He paused, realizing the irony and laughing boisterously. "I've already jumped ahead of customs. In my time, I was recognized across the empire so my skill in introductions has dwindled." He paused, throwing out his arms once more - already growing to be a tiresome gesture - and flapping his cape. "I am the Great King of Conquerors, Iskandar! In this Grail War, I have been summoned under the Rider class." Beneath his intro, was a long tired groan from within the chariot. Reaching down, the source of the noise was revealed. A small young man wearing a green suit. He looked positively nauseous. "And this is my master, Waver Velvet.

The two smaller girls had differing emotions. One was snickering and trying to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation while the other looked furious. "As you have given your name, I am honour-bound to offer my own - even if the introduction was severely lacking." In a flourish, the King of Knights reversed her grip on Excalibur and set its point onto the pavement, resting one hand upon the pommel she spoke. "I am Arturia Pendragon, True King to Britain, wielder of Caliburn and Saber of this Grail War." She stated defiantly, twitching her eyebrow when the now identified Rider laughed once more.

"Ohoh, who would have thought the exalted King of Knights to be a little girl!" He boomed, halting suddenly as the sound of steel lifting from pavement met his ears.

"If you believe my appearance to understate my prowess, allow me to make an example, or has your mouth grown larger than your mind?" The proclaimed little girl bit back, sabaton creaking along the asphalt below, preparing for a strike.

Rider smacked his forehead with the palm of his head, grumbling. "Already it would seem my attitude has gotten us into more trouble than anticipated." He returned to speaking normally. "I have come with no intentions to fight. In fact, I had originally intended to break up the fighting between all four servants." He explained, smiling as he gazed down at Saber.

"Four servants? There have only ever been two here tonight to my knowledge." Saber corrected, confused as Rider looked behind her somewhere. Had Kiritsugu revealed himself? Or had Lancer returned? She glanced back in the direction Rider's eyes and found still air. Lancer and herself were only two. Rider made that three, but why would he include himself in that count?

"Hmm, perhaps you are correct. I see only two types of battle marks in the ground here. If my eyes are correct, I would guess Lancer had made his appearance, hadn't he?" Rider deduced, rubbing his beard affectionately. "Say, King of Knights, where has he gone off to? I'd rather not ask this question twice."

Saber brow furrowed, hands tightening around the grip of her blade. "I know not of where Lancer has gone, only that it was to assist his master. Which question would pose importance to both Lancer and I?" She asked in return, essentially bidding him to get to the point.

"Why, the only question which matters! My entire point of visiting." Rider spouted as if the way his mind worked was common knowledge. "It was to ask if you would wish to join my ranks and a distinct and well hono-"

"No." Saber interrupted, voice scornful. "I will not stoop to a mere retainer, I am the King of Britain. Even asking such a preposterous question is a severe insult to my honour as a knight." She menaced, body tensing to hold her frame back.

"What is it we have here? Two stray dogs barking over who takes a bone?" Came a smooth voice from the air. Its entire tone rang with mocking condescension which almost bit at the heels with its sheer venom. "Do not let the True King interrupt you. Settle your quarrel, and I shall judge whether either of you is worthy enough to live." It spoke again, seeming to condense on a location. Rider and Saber both turned to look, having to crane upwards to see a truly impressive newcomer. Clad in gold from the ears down, he stood with the rigidity of rebar and the pompousness of a thirteen-year-old from a wealthy family. With blazing red eyes even deeper in colour compared to Irisviel's, and a face that would melt the heart of any normal woman - he gazed down on the two with one open eye and a turned nose. Upon being noticed, he simply smirked and revealed almost fanged teeth. In the back of her mind, Saber acknowledged this man as one of the four servants Rider had detected.

"Who said either of you could gaze upon me like that?" He growled, the air behind him suddenly rippling like stones thrown into a lake.

* * *

 **Just piling away at this thing! I'll be taking a brief break so I can study and focus on upcoming tests. So far I think Unbalanced Scales is going in a good direction! Saber almost died to Lancer already thanks to D rank luck, Rider is saying some strange stuff and Golden Boy makes his appearance! A lot of fan fictions make him seem... Nicer than he should be. Or less pompous. I'm gonna try to get the overzealous nature of the King of Kings down pat. Make him a character who gives you chills just by seeing him like he does in the anime. (Is it strange that Kiritsugu hasnt revealed his new slills?) Don't worry, Tokiomi won't die... Yet... Or will he?**

 **(How many tension makers can I put before it's no longer effective?) Anyhow. I hope you all enjoyed, I've gotten a small boat load of views which is absolutely amazing. 502 views on the day Chapter 2 went up! I wonder if we will break that record with this chapter! (I hope so!) Oh! And just as I was going to put this up, I noticed a new review.**

 **It pointed out that Kiritsugu couldn't use Triple Accel without Avalon which I actually didn't know (but have since done some reading). Unfortunately that was a mistake on my part but what has been done is done. I won't be changing it and we can all say that he lived because it was such a short time or something lol.**

 **Write reviews, favorite and follow if you enjoyed!**


	4. A New Threat

**EDIT: My sword collection is right next to my bed. Just a warning to stave off anyone from trying to murder me as retribution for the terrible ideas I've given SWG.**

 **Chapter… 4? I forget. Anyway, onwards and upwards. Disclaimer: I use Japanese words to describe some things (mainly houses). If they're wrong, I guess I'm just bad at researching, hopefully, it makes enough sense anyhow. (As a side note, this has gotten so long that my laptop is having trouble loading up the google doc.)**

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Weapons, no, _noble phantasms_ peeked out of golden ripples in the sky. Swords, axes, spears and hammers peaked their heads out of these ripples ominously. They lined up above his shoulders like an impassable wall. The obvious threat behind it was enough to make the air feel thick.

Saber hadn't moved, electing to go with the deer in headlights route. "So you are the third servant Rider had detected. Have you been eavesdropping and now plan to take us both out after learning our identities?" Saber surmised, gritting her teeth unconsciously.

The gilded servant chuckled in response, crossing both arms across his chest. "If I had intended to do such, I would have. The _order_ I've come to deliver is something much more important than petty espionage. What need have I for petty tricks of the Assassin?" He closed his eyes, scowling like someone had passed gas in his direction. "If you have yet to discern the legacy which stands before you then you are truly in need of my order."

Rider spoke, and Saber wanted to tape his mouth shut. "So, you missed the show of Saber and Lancer." He pointed out, scratching his face. "While I would enjoy regaling the events with you, I must admit I'm rather interested in what this _order_ of yours might be, legacies or not." Rider ended with a smile and both fists on his hips.

Golden Boy, who was stood on a stack of sea cans, looked down between the two other servants and smiled. It was a truly evil, malicious grin. One which sent shivers through all watching members of the Einzbern team. "While I dislike how you rush me, I must admire your eagerness."

Saber grew upset, finally shouting with a little more anger than she may have intended. "Eagerness for _what_? I grow tired of this banter and the disruptions to my duels."

The golden hero hmph'ed before pausing almost for dramatic effect. "Eager to submit and yield victory with your death of course." The way he spoke was as if such a thought were common knowledge, as if giving their lives was expected of them and that disobeying was something naturally wrong.

"Hm… So does this mean you won't become a member my endless army?" Rider asked softly.

… … ...

Through his mind, Saber had sent him plans. Since this new servant's arrival, they had mentally discussed their next actions. Both of them held a common goal - which was surprising. Irisviel had to get out of there or else she would surely get hurt. So the pair would combine their tactical intelligence to pull off something incredibly stupid, but equally as effective.

Through this meeting, Saber had held her pose with one hand resting upon her blade's invisible pommel. Suddenly, Invisible Air came loose and vicious winds tore around her form. She wrapped her hand around the blade's handle and with a snap, she held it in a reverse grip. The tip of the sword pointed towards the German woman and released a concentrated - albeit softened - blast of wind. When the motion concluded, Saber's form was obscured as weapons slung by the golden servant struck her position. Dust clouded the entire area from the impacts. Only the occasional spray of sparks, shards of broken weaponry and sounds of grating metal revealed a battle taking place within.

Irisviel flew backward more than thirty feet due to the gust. She made a soft noise at first but otherwise was quiet. Nothing could stop her body from natural flailing its arms in panic, unfortunately. The white fur hat she had been wearing didn't accompany her journey skywards. Instead, it fell to the ground and was sliced apart by a golden blade flung out from the cloud of dust. Kiritsugu had been instructed by the King of Knights to move exactly fourteen running steps to his left. Following orders, he put the pieces together and opened his arms. Kiritsugu deftly caught the homunculus projectile and returned to his place of hiding. When they were around the corner out of immediate sight he set his wife down on the ground.

Kiritsugu placed his back to the wall and motioned for Irisviel to move further away from the battle. This new servant was decimating the area below him with a rain of weaponry. One stray weapon could kill either of them easily. Kiritsugu still felt the steady drain of Saber on his mana so she was alive at least. Secretly he was hoping, almost praying that something would distract this lavish fool from his own servant. Saber was formidable but a torrential wave of noble phantasms could stop any hero.

Answering Kiritsugu's silent wishes, a ghastly howl pierced through the sounds of battle. With that noise alone, everyone halted to view its origin. A shadowy figure was just standing statue-still in front of the warehouse, head down towards the pavement. When the golden servant turned to gaze over at this new interloper, the dark figure snapped its head up to lock eyes. Or rather, lock eyes to helmet. This creature was hard to properly interpret. Its outward appearance was that of a knight. The purple-black plate mail he was clad in detailed beyond description. Overlapping sections, wicked curved edges and smooth rounded slopes. It was not bulky, but far from being paper thin. Engravings were lovingly inscribed into the metal surface but a smoky haze around the servant made them indiscernible. Strange tendrils were hanging from his back and shoulders, and a wispy blue strand flickered from the top of his helmet. Surrounding the knight was a shadowy haze which almost stained the very ground he tread upon.

Looking beyond the knight's appearance, trying to get a reading on their potential, actually caused pain. Every time Kiritsugu tried, a fierce pounding began behind his eyes and his vision blurred. He reasoned that the shadows acted as a sort of deceptive noble phantasm. "I'd put money on _that_ being Berserker." Kiritsugu mumbled.

A grumble and a slight clank of metal broke the awkward silence. "Yet _another_ mongrel enters. I wonder if this one shall prove wiser than the previous by surrendering." The Golden servant commented, sneering openly. The new mongrel in question screamed in response. A hollow but violently angry noise which sounded painful to produce. "Not an ordinary mongrel but a rabid dog. I'll take pleasure in putting you down for disgracing my form with those foul eyes of yours." The Golden God growled. Without a sound, the ripples in mid-air turned as if on a pivot. All of them pointed toward the black knight before doubling in number. The black knight howled like a feral beast before a volley of weapons streamed towards him. Since the attention of Goldy was displaced, the dust around Saber and Rider settled and Kiritsugu could check on the pair.

Rider had dematerialized his chariot at some point and his master was nowhere to be seen. The two servants, potential enemies before the barrage, were back-to-back and sweating with exertion. Nicks and scrapes lined their forms but all things considered, they were perfectly fine. It was almost humorous to see the large, muscle-bound form of Rider almost fully eclipsing the petite frame of Saber. Rider had long since withdrawn his blade, a spatha, to defend himself. The entire landscape around them was littered with weaponry, broken shards of metal and dust. The asphalt below had been battered so much that it became powdered and was now listing to the ground. Checking for more details, Kiritsugu noticed that Rider _was_ wounded:

He was missing the wonderful cape he had on before.

… … …

This night had gone from good, to better but now was looking outright unwinnable. The pompous pretty boy was focusing on Berserker - which was a good thing. That black knight was a true menace in all forms of combat. With uncanny dexterity and strength, it snatched weaponry from mid-flight and used the taken tools to destroy more incoming blades. Kiritsugu could hardly tell, but it seemed that objects he touched changed in structure. They became blackened with pulsing red lines along their points of weakness. The held item actually became the servant's noble phantasm. B-Rank weapons became A-rank in the servant's hands. Regardless of the type, the black knight managed to wield the weapon held like a master. Saber might be able to handle him one-on-one but she wouldn't be able to do much beyond survive should there be the handicap of uneven numbers.

The pair of unlikely allies took one breath to regain their stamina before splitting apart. Saber with her speed and dexterity elected to leap along a destroyed pile of metal which had once been a sea can. She climbed up to the golden servant's level while he was distracted with Berserker. Rider, on the other hand, moved to the ground below the golden servant and simply waited with sword in hand.

When Saber reached the metal plateau, she charged straight towards the pompous servant. His face was set in a deep scowl, growing deeper with each passing second as he focused entirely on the surviving Berserker. "You dare defy a direct order from the King of Heroes? Dare to wield my treasures like your own playthings? For your insolence, I will wipe every trace of your body from my world!" He shouted wildly. The ripples in the air around this supposed King of Heroes expanded. At least three dozen weapons primed and shot towards the mad knight with stunning velocity. Each of these new weapons were stronger than those fired previously. All of them were A-rank and similarly, they were all enchanted or cursed. Every weapon fired left a golden trail behind in the night. The trails actually produced light and slightly illuminated the area before exploding violently against Berserker's various taken-over weaponry. In his overzealous ranting, the golden servant hadn't even noticed Saber.

Saber lowered her blade to her left, barely skimming the top of the sea can as she growled out a cry of exertion. In a diagonal slash, she attempted to bisect the sword slinger at the hip. Even though the golden servant chose to throw his weapons magically while standing overtop his targets, let it be known that he was far from weak or slow. Saber's cry moved his attention and on reactions alone, the blond servant leapt off the edge of the sea can - into the chest of a brutish redhead.

… … ..

Iskandar had been waiting patiently. He had anticipated that Saber would be unable to land a mortal wound on Goldie, so the man waited until she neared. When he heard her cry, he leapt into the air. With splendid timing, he jumped directly in line with the dodging servant. His spatha made an overhand swing to deliver a crushing blow to the skull, few could survive such a direct blow. His attack did land, however not where he had intended. Seemingly average steel chains had impeded his blade in its swing and sent it askew. These chains were the very same which wrapped around Iskandar soon after his strike drew blood. His arms, wrists, legs, chest and neck were all coiled with chain that tightened each passing second. Iskandar's keen eyes found the source as he was being trapped - rippling puddles in the air. Another trick of Golden Boy it would seem.

Rider's blade missed Goldie's head but found purchase in a trap of his armour. The inside of his pauldron gave way to a thinner piece of plating which is where Rider's sword struck, pierced skin but became lodged quickly after. That golden armour was incredibly durable if not ludicrously expensive. The gold servant fell straight down to the ground with Saber chasing quickly after. The sound of screeching and deflections resumed, along with more explosions from behind him. Rider struggled against his binds but found they would not give. It was getting rather difficult to breathe and just as he thought this to be the end, the chains suddenly loosened. Rider took the opening to free himself from the bindings. He managed to free one arm and his neck before they re-tightened. While still held in the air, at least now Rider could see what had happened.

… … …

Saber missed, but Rider took up her slack. Not wishing to squander the moment, her blade rose high to prepare an overhead attack on the red-eyed prince. If Rider had to take a slight wound to end this servant - that would be acceptable. Her sword descended but bounced off as the gold servant batted away her blade _with his hand_. She was shocked but didn't allow that to take over the fight. Blood trickled from the servant's shoulder as he fell to the ground. Rider sat suspended in the air by chains of all things. Saber used a taut chain to launch herself downwards like a spear onto the golden man.

Upon landing, the golden god leapt backwards and stared at Saber - who struck the ground just after he moved - with radiant fury. "How _dare_ you! You strike the true king? All of you shall pay dearly for even scratching my armour!" He continued ranting, having another lapse of concentration as Berserker screamed and threw an entire stop sign at his face. The demi-god stumbled clumsily underneath it, stood and then opened up the entire sky with ripples. Unfortunately, in his position on the ground, the sea-cans around him acted as walls which restricted the amount of 'ripples' he could open. Even though he seemed mad enough to go all out - the amount of weaponry was only slightly more than what Berserker had been handling alone.

Saber's goal was to get close enough to force this golden jerk into melee combat. By his motions and reactions, he was no swordsman. He might have been Caster, however, Saber never once detected magical energy within his weapons. They were real, each and every one of them was a physical item. The only magic from this servant was that of his armour and the opening of each ripple in the sky. His magical capacity and strength were actually lower than her own. If she were to make an educated guess - she would place this Golden God in the Archer class.

Berserker flew past Saber like a black bullet, finding his path blocked suddenly as eight blades flew directly towards his chest. The mad knight was howled and managed to avoid this volley but had to take a step back as the next hit him off guard. A thin rapier-like blade would have pierced his chest were it not for Saber striking it away while she herself charged forwards. The two knights now worked on covering one another in their advance. Saber felt that this cooperation was rather one-sided. Berserker seemed to be allowing weapons through which were aimed at her. Although it was probably just the Madness Enhancement clouding the servant's judgement. It actually resulted in a wound to Saber. She had thought the mad knight would take down a blade on the left but he hadn't and it caught under her arm. It sliced straight through her and left a considerable gash.

" **Enough!** " Archer shouted again, extending his hand towards a ripple which formed beside him. Even though he was speaking and focusing on the item soon to be in his hand, the barrage never once slowed. "I will end this all right n-" He twitched, suddenly looking towards the sky. "Even you? You will stand alongside these mongrels in the disgrace of my character?" He paused, absently continuing the torrent of weapons on the two other servants. The ripple close to his outstretched hand faded. "Hmph. You will pay dearly for this, Tokiomi." The servant growled, with unhidden ferocity. All at once, the weapon rain stopped. Ripples appeared in front of him pointing downwards but seemingly nothing exited. Archer crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at Berserker and Saber. "Prepare yourself Saber, as next time I will not hesitate in removing your existence from this world." He commented, chuckling darkly as Berserker slammed into an invisible wall. Saber quickly realized that the ripples that had seemingly deposited nothing actually dropped invisible shields. As if it were a parting gift, a ripple appeared behind Berserker. The mad knight hadn't expected to run into anything and without warning he found a sword jutting from his chest. That single attack didn't kill him but obviously wounded the knight and brought him to his knees. As the wounded Berserker howled, Archer only laughed while turning into a golden shower of sparks.

Knowing his chance for fighting was over, the mad dog howled out and faded into purple mist. The blade that had impaled him clattered to the ground noisily before dematerializing. Saber unconsciously let out a sigh of relief. Her wounds had mostly healed and she had plenty of energy to fight with but for tonight she just wanted to rest. The information overload and display of raw power mentally exhausted her. Or perhaps it was a curse from one of Archer's damned blades. In her first day most of the other Servants had made themselves known. Each were formidable foes which would require all of her effort to defeat. A large crashing noise from behind her reminded the petite king that Rider had been suspended in mid-air by Archer.

"Evidently the King of Heroes is lacking in manners." Rider commented, standing from a pile of twisted metal and concrete while brushing himself off. Unceremoniously, the brute cracked his neck. As if on command, the mantle and cape regenerated itself to the point of its former glory. "At least you were civilized enough to decline my invitation. Goldie only responded with swords - not even using his own arms either. A truly sad display of decency." He shook his head, but suddenly brightened and spoke through a laugh. "But what a display of power! I had nearly thought we-"

"Rider." Saber snapped, getting the large man to shut up through surprise. "You and I are no more allies than the gods and man. We worked together to survive an onslaught from a common foe. Unless our masters decide otherwise you are still my enemy in this Grail War." The King of Knights hefted up her blade then made a pained noise. Even though the cuts had healed, the impact from hammers and blades alike had bruised her muscles and they simply refused to work any more without adrenaline. It also didn't help that the large gash under her left arm wasn't regenerating properly. Most likely a curse from one of Archer's blades.

Rider laughed and it only served to infuriate the King of Knights. "You can hardly lift a blade let alone sw-" He began, cutting himself off as the mentioned blade nearly sliced the smile off his face. Saber opted to use her blade one handed so he managed to halt the swing with a backhand of his spatha. "Perhaps my words were premature." He admitted, pushing her blade away and taking one large step back. "However I believe both sides have exhausted themselves thoroughly. Must we continue fighting?"

Through her mind, Kiritsugu snorted. Had he been watching and listening this whole time? She knew as well as he did that they both had ample amounts of fight left in them. His snort was a confirmation of this. Rider might have height and weight but he wasn't nearly as skilled in combat as Lancer. He had lead armies his whole life, allowing his soldiers to fight most of the battles in his stead. In direct swordplay, she would best him ten out of ten times. The only worry was his noble phantasm which had yet to reveal itself. Then again, so had hers

Rider looked behind Saber and reflexively she turned. Waver Velvet had made his appearance, limping from around the corner of a sea can. Through a groan, he complained, "Rider… Why'd you have to throw me so damn hard?" He was rubbing his head but upon looking up and spotting Saber he stiffened and gasped. "S-Saber!? Rider why haven't you eliminated her yet?" He cried, seemingly unable to move.

"Easy, boy. I'm merely repaying the favour provided to me in the fight with Archer. I won't be fighting her tonight unless she makes the fi- Second blow." Rider corrected himself, noting a hairline fracture in his blade that had formed while defending against Archer.

"What favour? Those cuts on your back and shoulders?" The small boy shouted, paling a few shades when Saber glared at him.

Rider was indeed in worse shape than Saber. Not only did he have more scrapes and minor wounds, but a long gash also ran diagonally down his back and his shoulders were torn apart by several deep cuts. Saber supposed it was the fact that he was a colossal target.

Saber drowned Rider's ensuing banter out as background noise. She had already decided to cease fighting for tonight. Unless Lancer appeared asking to continue their duel. If he did, her hands would be effectively bound by honour. But even the thought of duelling became secondary in her mind. She was reflecting on Kiritsugu's words and creating new arguments he would have to answer to. She wasn't helping a cold-blooded killer achieve an omnipotent wish granter that was for sure. If his wish truly was as noble as an end of all conflict, she would help him regardless of his methods. Yet she would still complain every chance she got.

"King of Knights? You there?" Rider asked, waving in front of her face to break her away from her own mind. "Where is your master? We would like to discuss a possible ceasefire with them." The redhead smiled.

… … …

… … …

Tokiomi shivered in his basement. He had used a command seal to recall Gilgamesh. He knew very well that trouble would come for him. It was only a question of when. Tokiomi had no idea what his servant was doing. But when the drain on his mana spiked and the raw anger flowing off Gilgamesh came through his mind, something had to be done. He was planning on using his ultimate noble phantasm, Ea. He was so furious, Tokiomi had thought he would need two command seals to reign the servant in. Thankfully one had done the job.

Unsurprisingly, the King of Kings had circumvented his order of: "Do not reveal Ea, return to the manor" by spearing Berserker with one last blade. Hopefully, that small triumph would lessen the King's anger.

The clanking of metal made Tokiomi's skin chill. He turned around and bowed in one motion, beginning his lengthy apology.

Gilgamesh only smiled through his words. Not a pleased or relieved smile, but a mischievous almost predatory gaze. Tokiomi, in a bout of apologies and promises, didn't notice the golden ripple appear behind him.

… … …

… … …

They were watching all along, at least one of them was. A master and a servant, atop a large skyscraper some distance away. The former paced and listened, the latter watched and relayed. Relayed the information regarding an all-out brawl between servants down at the dock.

"Archer has left the field. It would seem that Saber and Rider are electing to go their separate ways. Strange, I would have thought the two to conclude Archer as the ultimate threat. In my opinion, he's rather weak. I have no doubt in my ability to defeat him." The servant went on, squinting to try and gather more detail. The servant was a man, evident by the deep voice which cut through the cold night like a blade through flesh.

"That's good. Have you gauged Saber's ability? And what of the other servants?" The servant's master asked with an excited but coordinated tone.

"Saber is an exceptional servant. In my current form it stands to reason that I would lose should we duel with blades. If she were at a distance is another story." The servant answered, pausing for a moment. "The other servants are skilled in their own ways but I doubt a single one besides Saber could pose much of a threat."

"Oh?" The master asked, confused at his servants grading. Personally, he believed Archer was overpowered. "What advantage does Saber possess that Archer does not?" He asked. The master had also thought Lancer would pose a potential problem. A spear of anti-magic was obviously bane to any Caster was it not?

The servant paused, then turned as if watching something in the distance. "Saber's true name is Arturia Pendragon, the King of Knights. Not only are all of her stats A rank, she has incredible noble phantasms which are even more ludicrous than Archer's."

The master furrowed his brow, halting his pacing to face his servant. "You're telling me she has noble phantasms which are equivalent if not greater than _unlimited_ noble phantasms? That's bullshit and I don't believe it for a second."

Caster sighed roughly, voice edged with the annoyance of having to explain himself. "It's not a matter of how many noble phantasms one has, but how one uses them. That's a simple fact. While Archer may have a near unlimited supply of phantasms, he does not know how and will not use all that is available to him. His stubbornness prohibits him from such. So it's more accurate to say his number of phantasms is a direct representation of his anger. Saber has two incredibly powerful phantasms which she will use without a second thought if its use were to ensure her victory. One of these could wipe Archer out of the war with one strike were it to hit. Her other phantasm could allow her to survive an endless onslaught from that gate of Archer's. She may have even be summoned with more than the two I believe her to have. Carnwennan, Pridwen or even _Rhongomyniad_ are all potential weapons." The servant spat the last name out with blatant spite and anger. "Apart from her noble phantasms, Saber is the ultimate of her class. She has been called the King of Knights for good reason. Of the Knights of the Round, only Lancelot could best her in combat. She has incredible strength, defence and speed. Her mana capacity matches even my own with her dragon origin and her innate abilities are something fearsome. Magical Resistance - Rank A, Mana Burst - Rank A and _Instinct_ \- Rank A. Instinct is a pain in the ass to put it bluntly. At such a high rank it borders on precognition. She can dodge attacks unpredictable to most, see her death two steps before it comes and avoid it. If it weren't for D-rank luck, she would be unstoppable." The servant paused, shrugging as if they thought of something last minute. "The only way one could easily defeat her would be to betray her. Ironic that the way she came to die in life could be used to slay her a second time." He chuckled to himself.

The master made a noise before humming appreciatively. "So she should be our main priority in this war. Caster, how do you know of all this?" The question came expectedly. Servants shouldn't be able to discern the identity and precise history of another without hearing their true name. The Throne of Heroes was odd in that way. It provided information of every other servant's abilities but hid the names. When the true name of a servant was revealed, the information "unlocked" and the abilities could be recalled from memory. If a servant had information of another without hearing of their true name - it was because they had known each other before death.

The servant in question paused, then turned around completely. "Let's just say I'm very educated in Arthurian history."

… … …

… … ...

Kiritsugu's head hurt. Not from any injury, no. Saber's voice had been the cause of it. Following the battle at the docks, she had hunted him down alongside Irisviel where she ranted for a half hour about honour and chivalry. After she opened with that he hadn't really listened. He replied with his own comments about the futile nature of heroes and how their glamour drew young men to war. Saber actually managed to get him to relive stories of his time as The Magus KIller. Indescribable situations dealing with the absolute worst of humanity and their creations. He explained how his actions had stopped wars before they began and how deception had directly saved the lives of thousands, hundreds of thousands.

They went back and forth over their own ideals all night. Both of them eventually settled on the fact that they were just different. But one of the two left with a new view of the world. Ultimately, Saber would still fight for Kiritsugu's wish as she believed it to be just. Kiritsugu would still do whatever he had to in his path for the Grail. His methods and attitude were parts of Kiritsugu which bothered the King of Knights. At the very least, her faith regarding the authenticity of his wish was enforced. Following their 'talk', Irisviel drove Saber to the Einzbern Castle where the Einzbern team would be spending the night and following days.

Maiya had done as discussed long before the start of the war. If a master were retreating and she couldn't finish them off, she would simply observe from a distance to discover where they were hiding. Kayneth hadn't even bothered to conceal his trail and the injured man lead the assassin right along.

The Hyatt Hotel was a luxurious building which housed a little more than a thousand people in penthouses and individual apartments. Kayneth had apparently made an entire floor of the building into a labyrinth of magical traps. Maiya and Kiritsugu almost simultaneously elected to demolish the entire building. It was unexpected and would catch the pompous mage with his theoretical pants down. They differed on how to conduct such an operation. Maiya wanted to arm the explosives and drop the entire building just like that. Kiritsugu wanted to evacuate most of the people within before demolishing the hotel. They argued - after the argument with Saber - about which method would get the desired result with minimal risk. Kiritsugu made a key point which won the debate, however: Since Kayneth believed his makeshift workshop to be impenetrable, he wouldn't leave regardless of what went on with the building. Once Maiya agreed with that logic, they worked to establish _how_ to go about evacuating a building. A bomb threat was ironic and fitting. Only workers would be scanning through the building to verify if there were or weren't bombs. It went without saying that they would die. Kiritsugu was looking for a zero loss scenario. So they settled on the only scenario that could evacuate a building and eliminate all possibilities of innocent involvement - a fire alarm. Maiya would set up the explosives and call him when they were ready. Unlike most mages who wouldn't continue the War during the daytime, Kiritsugu didn't care whether it was day or night. If an opportunity presented itself, he would take it.

Kiritsugu had initially intended to be at the castle with Irisviel and Saber, but after the argument, he had felt it better to remain separate for a day. It would allow Saber and himself a respite. He had given Iri and Saber the choice to do as they desired for the day. At night they would establish a more definite plan involving all members of their team for the next day.

All this was why the Magus Killer found himself idle in the early afternoon. His rest at the hotel had been dreamless, something he was unsure whether to be thankful or disappointed with. Rather than sit in the room all day - he decided to conceal his status as a master once more and ensure that his secondary base in the Miyama district was still operable. He had bought the residence a year ago when it went for sale after the previous owner died. The property lined up with his initial plans and he made Acht pay for it as a necessary expenditure for the war. Kiritsugu made sure to get the deed in his name.

While he was out, he could get another stuffed toy for Illya for when he returned. Perhaps wishful thinking, but it was good to be prepared… Why did he suddenly feel as if Saber would like one as well? He gave his head a shake and stood from the bed.

… … …

… … …

It was a stuffed loaf of bread. Kiritsugu thought it was cute in a funny way. He reached into a pocket of his trench coat and withdrew a keyring while standing on the sidewalk. The ring held all the keys he needed for every door on the property. There were nine keys in total. Four of them were typical keys for cylinder locks and each had a duplicate. The ninth key was a large, rusted skeleton key which weighed more than all the other keys combined. Kiritsugu knew it was for the storage shed in the backyard. Cobwebs hanging off the corners of the gate indicated the time spent in disuse. Kiritsugu slipped the key into the wooden gate door - after the third attempt at trying to find the correct key - and pushed it open with his shoulder. An almost satisfying creak of unoiled hinges followed the stiff door swing. Beyond the door, natural paving stones lead towards a sliding paper door. In fact, most of the walls - shoji - were paper. The entire building was designed in a classic traditionalist Japanese style. A true Japanese mansion. Rather than being entirely open to the air, glass panes ran along the external edge of the engawa. Occasionally these panes ended and allowed air to flow.

It was originally built like this and had been lovingly maintained by the older man who used to live within. Its age was actually the only reason it had remained standing despite being placed inside a developing zone: Fuyuki had labelled it a historic site. Kiritsugu had to admit the property had a unique charm to it. All his life he had lived in cutting edge modern dwellings. Something basic but humble like this mansion brought with it a calming air. The Magus Killer found he actually enjoyed his purchase. He stepped through the front gate and made it about halfway down the path towards the door.

The sound of feet running on concrete made him turn around. They were nearing and soon would cross the gate. His fists clenched and he moved to stand defensively. "If you two kids broke into Mister Saito's house again I swear you'll-" A woman began shouting, cutting herself off as she rounded the corner onto the pathway.

She was a younger woman, maybe eighteen with sharp features and bright tan eyes. Her hair was medium length, drawn back into a barely contained ponytail. Her mouth was slightly open out of shock. She wore a simple collared white blouse and a black skirt with tights underneath. Kiritsugu thought she looked familiar, but seeing as how she wasn't a threat he snapped into an open position and tried to imitate her surprise. It was difficult, considering her face looked like she had seen a ghost.

"I-it's you!"

Alright, now he really was surprised. Someone had recognized him? Who was this woman and why was she familiar? She had spoken in Japanese, so Kiritsugu's mind flipped to his native language as if on a switch.

"Kiritsugu! I remember you from four years ago! H-here, hold on!" She sputtered out with a slight blush. She held up one finger while turning to run back where she came from as if the motion would make him stay put. Whoever she was, she was certainly eccentric. He took this time to look around the small stretch of a yard in the front of the house. The grass was wild and he was pretty sure there was a snake problem, but a year abandoned would do that to a home. He heard the patter of footsteps and braced himself for what might come next. Where did this sense of familiarity come from? Was it because she looked like…

The woman from before tore into the doorway, panting slightly. In her hand was an incredibly squishy plush ball. It was designed as a tiger with a fluffy tail poking out from one end. Instantly who she was came to him.

"Taiga Fujimura." He smiled slightly, although it was kind of forced. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You've changed so much in four years." He apologized genuinely. The woman blushed in response and stammered out an incoherent jumble of words. Kiritsugu could only laugh. "Are you going to be alright?"

"H-hey! It's not my fault you're so go-uh… good with words!" She covered, blushing harder and trying to appear upset. She closed her eyes and huffed.

Kiritsugu's smile grew to be authentic. "So there have been a lot of break-ins? Anything I should watch out for?" He inquired, watching the woman regain some composure as she moved from the talking subject.

"Nothing you should have to watch out for, just two jerks that I've beaten a couple times when they _tried_ to mess with the uh… The owner. Did Mister Saito pass? I hadn't heard from him for a while and thought he just wanted to be left alone." She replied, expressing a quiet 'oh' when Kiritsugu explained how he came into the property.

" _You_ beat up the thieves?" Kiritsugu asked absently to change the subject. He unlocked and slid open the front door. It gave way to a small genkan. The American equivalent would be a mudroom. The door led to a long hallway with simple furnishings along the right wall. Three doors to other rooms were on the left and the end of the hall cut off towards the right.

"Yup! You're looking at the renowned, undefeated star of the kendo club. I beat those thieves up so badly with my shinai they were crying for their mothers!" She boasted with pride, holding a fist to her chest and gazing star-struck to the sky. Snapping out of her daze, she watched Kiritsugu enter and politely asked if she could explore alongside him.

He couldn't actually think of a reason why she _couldn't_. So he was more or less forced into allowing her. "I won't be staying long, at least not right at this moment. I wanted to make sure this place wasn't full of squatters or… Rats." He mumbled, peaking into some of the rooms and verifying their integrity.

Taiga seemed upset that he wasn't staying, visage darkening slightly. "Oh, well…" She led on, unsure of what to say next. "I hope that you do eventually decide to stay here-! That is if you want to stay here! Just because I live nearby and if you lived here you would live nearby t-Urk!" She stumbled, catching her ramblings before looking at her wrist - which held no watch - with a fierce blush. "Oh no look at the time! Gotta run, Kiritsugu bye!" She shouted hastily, sprinting out of the house as if her life depended on it. Kiritsugu only watched and blinked slowly before chuckling and continuing his objective.

… … …

… … …

As Kiritsugu was locking the front gate, his cell phone rang. Answering the device, he heard Maiya's voice confirming her readiness for their plans. It was a quarter after three, broad daylight. He snagged a taxi to the Hyatt Hotel. With trained stealth, the man entered the elevator shaft and slid down the ladder to the basement. This part of the basement was sectioned off from the underground parking lot. It was dark, unused and humid. The entire area smelt of mould and seemed to be covered in a light layer of dust. For a maintenance area - it was rather distraught. Kiritsugu found Maiya shortly after entering. She was waiting for him with a detonator in hand. She passed the device off to him - another pager - and made her own exit.

Kiritsugu watched her leave, not a single word spoken between the two. She was leaving him to make a choice and he knew it. Either destroy the entire hotel with zero risk of Kayneth leaving or set off the fire alarm and hope he doesn't. The Magus Killer looked around the room, finding the control panel for hotel-wide systems. He could trigger an alarm in an empty room and make the threat appear real by removing a wire. His finger glanced over the dusted cable while his mind raced to consider his option.

Kiritsugu made a grumble. "Getting too soft." He yanked out three separate wires and instantly a distant siren rang through the building.

… … …

A man, an employee of Hyatt Hotel no doubt, read off names and checked the responding people off a list. Kiritsugu was listening while subtly following him.

"Kayneth, El-Melloi?" He shouted, looking up and panning the crowd. Nobody raised a hand which Kiritsugu was thankful for. Approaching the man as he shouted the name a second time, he spoke.

"Kayneth El-Melloi and party have safely left the building." The employee was no magus, which meant a simple hypnotism spell could easily sway his opinion. The employee looked stunned at Kiritsugu before his eyes softened and he scratched his head.

"Uh… Yeah, sure." He mumbled, checking off the names on his list before returning to his job.

Not bothering to waste any time, Kiritsugu reached into his pocket and discreetly triggered the pager. Immediately he felt the air suction towards the building. In a second, a light shockwave shook the earth below and the rumble of a collapsing structure echoed through the distance. Kiritsugu didn't even turn to watch, continuing his walk down the street. At the end of the street was a car Maiya was waiting in, they would both go to Einzbern castle and prepare their next attack from there.

… … …

Stepping through the large front doors, Kiritsugu had to admire the more pleasing appearance of this castle compared to the one in Germany. Perhaps an actual _human_ had lived here rather some animated pile of filth. Kiritsugu's hatred for Acht was only slightly less than that of his hatred for evil.

His footfalls echoed loudly through the entrance chamber, almost masking the lighter steps from someone on the second floor. The entrance was quite simple in its design. A large open central hallway which led to a staircase in the center of the room. Along the sides of the staircase, were hallways leading further back to other rooms. The stairs lead up to an archway which opened up to the second floor. On either side of the archway, were open doorways that connected entresols to the second floor. The entresols were disconnected from each other and spanned from the far side of the room to the wall of the entrance. The colour scheme was a regal gray, gold and red. Statues, urns and artwork lines the sides of the walls between the doors and halls with a large metal statue sitting just beyond the archway of the stairs.

Iri finally rounded the corner of the archway, huffing from the run. Upon seeing her husband she smiled and brushed the hair from her face. "Kiritsugu! Saber told me you were getting close. She didn't tell me you were here!" She laughed, moving down the stairs. Kiritsugu had reached the base of the stairs at the same time as Iri. When she was close enough, she childishly leapt into him and he had to suddenly react to catch her in an embrace. He turned to distribute the impact and set his wife down on the ground rather unceremoniously. She was still smiling but it seemed pained. He opened his mouth to speak but felt a presence from above. Kiritsugu looked up to see Saber leaning over the railing watching from the entresol. Rather than the armour he had observed in the battle at the docks, she was wearing the tailored black suit he had gotten made for her. He turned back to forcibly smile at Iri.

He hated doing this to her. Purposefully, Kiritsugu was distancing himself to alleviate the blow her death would cause him. Her face softened at his forced smile. They simply stared at one another for a moment. The look shared between their eyes traded more words than their voices could have at that moment.

"Master, the news informed me of a building in the city which collapsed shortly after a fire alarm. Am I to assume that was your doing?" Saber interrupted with a stern look. "Irisviel provided me with recent news and discovered an explosion at Fuyuki Church as well. Did you have a hand in this?" She asked, cold voice echoing throughout the foyer.

The Magus Killer sighed through the nose and turned to climb the stairway. "Maiya and I demolished both locations, yes." He admitted shamelessly. "Fuyuki Church needed to be destroyed to eliminate Kirei Kotomine with absolute certainty. Hyatt Hotel was the former location of the wounded Kayneth El-Melloi. To ensure that both perished, excessive force was required." Kiritsugu commented. "Kayneth took over an entire floor as his workshop, destroying the building was the only way to easily eliminate him."

Saber was silent for a moment. Her jaw clenched and she straightened from the railing she had been leaning over. "You evacuated the building before demolishing it and had zero casualties. I suppose that is the best I can expect from you." Saber acknowledged with disappointment. Calmly, she walked off down the hallway.

Irisviel hustled up the stairs to walk beside her husband, hugging onto his arm and leaning against him. "Years ago, you proved to me that your dreams were visions of the future. When we discovered Kirei Kotomine to be a member of this war, I decided to put absolute faith in your decisions from then on. You're doing the right thing, Kiritsugu." She consoled, breaking off his arm so she could attempt to further convince Saber that her husband was simply following the path he believed to be easiest and most effective.

Kiritsugu continued without Iri to a large dining room he had set up as a temporary operations room. Various forms of paper, writing utensils and books sat scattered across the large table. It could seat more than a dozen people comfortably but all the chairs were stacked neatly in a corner to free up space. Maiya only had time to prep the room and bring in the documents needed it would seem. The Magus Killer picked up a rolled piece of laminated paper. Unrolling it he discovered their planning map. He affixed it to the nearest wall with some tape and stepped back to analyze. Circles, squares, X's, arrows and lines in red, blue and black spread across the map's entire surface. The Fuyuki Church and Hyatt Hotel specifically were filled in with green. The Matou and Tohsaka households were circled in black and the sewer entrances held question marks. He wanted to light a smoke but reminded himself of Illya and elected to gnaw the end of a marker instead.

Staring at the map, he quickly made a handful of plans: Strike the Tohsaka manor and hope they could kill the servant before the Matou servant moved to take advantage of their weakened state, do the same thing but with the Matou first, search the sewers for a servant, try to eliminate Waver Velvet or just plain wait out the war defensively in the castle. The first two hasty plans were tossed out instantly. Rider was confirmed Waver Velvet's servant. It was unknown which servant Kariya Matou or Tokiomi Tohsaka managed to summon. One of them may have summoned Caster. It was well known that a Caster in their own territory was almost unbeatable. Caster could simply delay Saber and call for reinforcements via other servants. Few masters would pass up the chance to eliminate a Saber from the War.

Maiya entered and silently closed the door behind her. She walked silently beside Kiritsugu and looked at the map with him briefly before listening intently for orders.

"Finding Caster should take priority. We have no information on the servant or the master and until we do we can't be sure they won't strike us when our guard is down. Caster, like Assassin, has a much greater chance of victory should they hide in the shadows and wait. If we can draw them out, Saber should have no problem defeating them." Kiritsugu commented, leaning back against the table with his hips.

"Do you have any ideas where they could be hiding?" Maiya asked, focusing on the question marks on the sewer.

"A few. The sewers would make a great location for a workshop. Discreet and solid enough to trap the magical energy. However, because the location is the best, it is unlikely to be where Caster resides." Kiritsugu explained wisely, getting a confused look from Maiya.

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain. If something is the best, it will obviously be the first choice. For example, a large open tower with excellent visibility is a prime position for a sniper. Because of this fact, it will often be checked for snipers which decreases the value of the position." He paused, scratching an itchy spot on the side of his head. "It's a quality that is hardly thought of but arguably the most important. Consider this castle. Easy to defend, remote and surrounded by a bounded field. With all of these good qualities, it is still the Einzbern castle which makes it the first suspected place for us to retreat to. We can expect an attack tonight if any of the other masters become ambitious. We'll set up five-hour shifts, I'll take first rotation and you can get some rest." He ordered, walking to the door of the dining room.

"Will do sir." She nodded as the door closed behind him. Maiya quickly tidied up the supplies she had brought in. Carefully taking down the man-sized map, she set it over the rest of the supplies like a tarp. Underneath was a small bag of flash powder and a pressure-based detonator. Should anyone besides her or Kiritsugu try to gather their intel, it would explode and burn. Closing the door quietly behind her, Maiya travelled to a smaller guest room near the entrance for some rest.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Oddly enough, no master came to the Einzbern castle that night. The most exciting thing Maiya or Kiritsugu had experienced was a bat which startled the pair when they were rotating shifts. Early in the morning around four, Kiritsugu meandered to the spacious kitchen where he attempted to make a simple western breakfast of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. Even though this castle was sparsely used, it had been stocked the day Kiritsugu arrived in Fuyuki just in case it was needed. After the end of the war, someone would be hired to clear everything perishable from the castle.

The eggs he tried to make had been welded to the frying pan, his bacon were strips of charcoal and the hashbrowns were the consistency of mashed potatoes. He carefully disposed of all the evidence before anyone else stumbled in on him. Just as he finished throwing an entire frying pan into the trash, Irisviel sleepily stumbled in wearing silk pyjamas. "Good morning, Kiritsugu." She yawned, sitting at the kitchen counter while rubbing her half closed eyes.

"Irisviel." He responded warmly, discreetly kicking the garbage bin he had disposed of his crimes in out of sight.

"Smells like something is burning." His wife commented. As he was about to make an excuse, Saber stepped in and glanced between the two.

"Lady Irisviel, master." She acknowledged with nods to each. Saber sat beside the homunculus, she hadn't changed out of her suit but that was hardly strange. As a servant, she had no need for sleep or food. "Has a plan been decided for today?" She questioned, jumping straight to the point.

Kiritsugu poured two cups of coffee - at least that he could get right - and offered one to Irisviel. She was usually one for tea, but perhaps she would enjoy some caffeine. Cautiously she sipped the beverage and grimaced at the taste. Casually the Magus Killer pushed cream and sugar towards her. "A tentative plan has been set. Did you have ideas?" He asked, leaning against a counter with a mug in hand. While they differed in ideals and execution, tactics from a wise king who lead an entire country were valuable at all times.

"Perhaps. I believe we should search for Caster. Their absence in this war worries me. If your tactic yesterday has succeeded then that means we have only four other servants to worry about. Archer, Berserker, Rider and Caster." She commented, watching Irisviel pour a healthy amount of cream and sugar into her coffee. The servant gave a confused look as the homunculus shook her head.

"I have not felt the death of another servant. Only an Archer could survive this long without a master." She explained, stirring the contents of her mug - the majority of which was cream and sugar - with a spoon. She took a sip and found the flavour much more appealing.

"So either Kayneth survived, or Lancer has made a contract with another master." Kiritsugu surmised, sipping from his mug. "Saber, how are you feeling after that battle with Archer?" Kiritsugu asked. It was a question based less of concern and more of battle efficiency. If she was wounded, she would underperform which he would need to account for.

"After Irisviel's healing last night, my wounds have recovered completely." She responded, rotating her shoulder as an example.

Kiritsugu hummed while drinking his coffee. "That would explain why Iri appears so tired. That curse must have been difficult to remove." He commented, smirking as his wife nodded weakly with closed eyes. The Magus Killer gently pushed off the counter, poured another cup of coffee and sighed. "I'll check on Maiya, then we can decide on a definite plan. Like you, I also wanted to search for Caster, so prepare to move in an hour." He nodded to Saber. With two cups of coffee in his hand, he moved to the attic where Maiya was stationed. The rising sun beamed through the window, bathing the woman in an orange light as she scanned the forest with a rifle. It must have been around six in the morning. He sat beside his accomplice and offered her the cup.

… … ...

The plan was that Saber would take Irisviel across the city searching for Caster. They would start at the sewers and move on from there to potential strongholds. Casters would only establish a base with access to ley lines so they could draw on natural mana as well as mask their signature. Unless the Caster simply didn't care for discretion. As Fuyuki held two converging ley lines, there was a good handful of potential workshop locations. Some were already owned by mage families and others were simply unsuitable for a base. Nobody in their right mind would try to defend a park or set up shop right beside two known masters of the War.

Certain areas existed on ley lines and _were_ defendable though. The most notable to Kiritsugu had been Ryuudou Temple. While Saber investigated the sewer system, Kiritsugu would verify that Ryuudou Temple was clear. If neither locations held Caster, they would need to start combing the city or test the investigative ability of Waver Velvet. The Magus Killer wasn't against cooperation per-say. He was simply against betrayal and any sort of alliance made in the Grail War would always end in a betrayal. If neither route gave results, it would be safe to assume Tokiomi or Kariya had summoned Caster. Unknown to Kiritsugu, neither family could summon Caster. Long ago they had agreed to leave that class to other families due to the proximity of their manors. Since Casters were so skilled at magecraft, one could easily dismantle the bounded fields surrounding the individual homes of the magus families.

The plans for the day had gone directly out the nearest window when his command seals suddenly felt as if they were on fire. It was a signal from the Overseer for all Grail War participants. But with the Church destroyed, where did the Overseer intend to hold the meeting? Stepping outside, Kiritsugu spotted a thin trail of mana laden smoke spiralling from the direction of the Church. Even though it was destroyed, it was still neutral ground evidently.

Preparing a familiar, Kiritsugu sent the crow on its way and notified the other members of his team about the delay. He only hoped that this message would be kept short.

… … …

Risei Kotomine stood on the pathway just before the former entrance of the church. He looked alright, all things considered. Shrapnel and the blast from the explosion had lacerated and burnt his back but none of his limbs were seriously damaged and his face still held a serene smile. Bandages wrapped around his chest were visible beneath the priest robes. He seemed stiff, as a man suffering injuries rightly should be. He was forced to heal his injuries naturally to avoid attracting attention to himself.

He nodded to each of the familiars - of which there were six - and began to speak calmly. "For those of you who are unaware, yesterday afternoon the Church was attacked. Not with master or servant, but with explosives. At the time, a former participant - master of Assassin - was residing within. His name was Kirei Kotomine and he perished in the explosion. Understandably, you are all likely curious as to why I have summoned you. It is because I am offering a reward for knowledge regarding who may have committed such an atrocity. Any master who can inform me of the perpetrator with proof will receive _two_ command seals." He paused, closed his eyes - something which was hard to tell he had done - and smiled wider. "The perpetrator has broken the rules regarding neutral zones and should be punished." He paused, looking back at the Church pile. His former home and place of work. "As it stands, there is no neutral zone and I cannot be contacted. Both shall be arranged shortly. I thank you all for your time, this summons has concluded." He bowed, twitching as the act caused him pain.

… … …

"What a waste of time," Kiritsugu growled, letting the crow familiar land on his shoulder before dematerializing. He had guessed that the meeting would be a waste of time when the Overseer started it with the Church bombing. He had Maiya drop him off near the outskirts of the city before she went on to drop Saber and Irisviel closer to the river. Kiritsugu had to walk quite some distance - not that he minded. Walking gave him a chance to think over his next moves and get some much needed time to himself.

As he walked, his mind returned to last night at the docks. Specifically when he had thought about using an Origin Round on a servant. What _would_ happen? His Origin Rounds were individual Mystic Codes or they could be called Conceptual Weapons. The latter was more correct. They conceptualized Kiritsugu's origin of "severing and binding" and actualized on impact with foreign magecraft or magic circuits. A mage's body is trained from birth to resist infiltration. In a way, the body has a magical immune system. If a foreign disturbance was detected, the mage's body naturally reacts and extricates the foreign body. It was a simple principle that Kiritsugu had abused Origin Rounds.

In electrical circuits, power flows through specific lines separated from one another to achieve a goal. Magic circuits operate in the same fashion. Mana or more specifically Od, flows through magic circuits in order to cast magecraft. What Kiritsugu's Origin Rounds accomplish, is effectively the same as pouring water onto live electrical circuits. In an instant, every pathway is torn apart and connected together. The resulting short destroys a mage's body from the inside out. Even if a mage were to survive such an attack, most if not all of their body would be paralyzed. Natalia had helped him make sixty-six rounds in total. During his time as The Magus Killer, thirty-seven were used. Kiritsugu normally held onto twelve. The remaining seventeen were split three ways. Five were in Germany in the office of the Einzbern castle. Another five, in a safe house in England - placed strangely close to the Clocktower. The remaining seven were in an underground weapon stockpile in Fuyuki itself. It was where Maiya had actually gathered all their supplies from. Only the two of them had a code to the entrance and that code was bound to die with them.

He was going off track in his own mind. Kiritsugu refocused on his original question. Servants after the Age of Gods had magic circuits, that was for sure. Servants were also humans (or close enough) at one point, so it only made sense that a servant from the Age of Man would operate the same way modern mages did. Origin Rounds delivered more damage the more Od a target was using. On a servant like Saber, who used little in the way of magecraft, Origin Rounds would most likely be useless. Not only would they deal no major damage, but she could also simply bat the round away with her sword. Her weapon wasn't connected to her magic circuits and would make the round a waste. On a thinly defended servant like Caster they might be able to do some damage.

Should Caster be using a great spell of some sort, an Origin Round could definitely destroy the servant. A benefit of the round was that it didn't _need_ to pierce the flesh of a target. It merely needed to strike something magically connected to them. So magical defences or even offensive spells would still achieve the desired result. So then why, in his first dream, had the Kiritsugu then not used the Origin Rounds? Kirei must have had some sort of ability to counteract the effect. Unheard of, but entirely possible.

And what of the master of the servant? Since a master continually supplied their servant with mana, would they be an indirect target of his Origin Rounds since they were connected magically to the servant?

With a shake of his head, Kiritsugu let the thoughts escape his mind. He began unconsciously climbing the steps to Ryuudou Temple. Experimenting would be the only way to see precisely what the result would be.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Kiritsugu huffed. Strangely, the Temple was empty. Typically, people inhabited the building and maintained the entire shrine. Or simply enjoyed being outside by sitting on the grass. The emptiness alone was enough to set Kiritsugu on edge. A feature of this area was that a _natural_ bounded field surrounded it much like the concrete walls. It disrupted magical energy and restricted its flow. Servants, spells or spirits couldn't pass over the walls. They could only exit through the main gate, a warding shrine.

As a precaution, the Magus Killer reached into his coat to slip on black leather gloves. Flexing his fingers to wiggle the gloves into place, he walked down the path towards the main building. The temple was set up was rather standard. A wide, main building which led to a walled off section with shrines in the back. In the back section were living quarters and various other buildings to house people comfortably. All of these structures were squared off by high concrete walls with trees on either side. As far as Kiritsugu knew, developments over the next ten years were being spoken about to try and increase the capacity as well as the standard of living.

The temple grounds were deathly calm. The gentle breeze from before had stopped and the lack of trees rustling gave Kiritsugu chills. This was an unnatural stillness for sure. Even the birds had stopped singing. Kiritsugu thought he could hear is heart beating. Coupling this silence was the scent of… Gunsmoke and steel? Upon smelling it, Kiritsugu's head pounded violently. So much pain in one sharp burst made him actually hiss and lift a hand to his head. Another whiff and the pain knifed through his mind once more. His vision blurred at the edges before they compressed to tunnels. Kiritsugu quickly elected to breathe through his mouth, finding his vision returning as the pain faded. Tentatively, he tried sniffing lightly to test his reaction. He found that the piercing pain had stopped, but the smell from before had gone away as well.

"Well, well, well. Imagine meeting you here!" Came a voice from behind. Kiritsugu whipped around and withdrew his Calico in one fluid motion. Levelling the barrel, he found a strange man standing with hands behind his back. "The Magus Killer, correct? Kiritsugu Emiya? Master of Saber, killer of Kirei Kotomine - ooo what an alliteration!" He paused to laugh at his own words. It was an almost contagious chuckle. Full bodied and pronounced. "Husband of Irisviel Von Einzbern and father to Illyasviel von Einzbern... Did I miss anything?" He asked, voice full of joy. Kiritsugu's hand tightened around the Calico's grip at the mention of Illya. The tone of his words could be compared to the saying; "having too much fun".

He was around six feet tall, average built and wearing a hooded cloak which was long enough to scrape the ground with each movement. It was mostly black with crimson accents around the stitching and fringes. It was intended to be buttoned up, but the two sides were parted to reveal a black vest along with a tie and simple black dress pants from the Western side of the world. The most defining piece of his outfit was the man's face. An eerie mask of crimson similar to a plague doctor's mask without such an elongated beak. Kiritsugu recognized it as a bauta mask, only this one was made of ceramic and incredibly detailed. The eyebrows were set in anger and black surrounded the eyes to give the mask an imposing visage. The beak section was engraved with black floral designs. These designs trailed up from the beak tip about halfway before tapering off. A simple glance was all Kiritsugu needed to determine that the cloak and mask were both magically enhanced. The interior vest and pants, however, were not. This made them weak points he could exploit.

Kiritsugu would have asked who he was, but people don't wear masks to reveal their identity when questioned. He always thought people who asked that in movies were stupid. "How do you know this?" He inquired instead, narrowing his eyes as the man teetered on his heels carelessly. Kiritsugu couldn't really see his eyes behind the cloak and the mask but he could feel raw animosity even if the man's body language said differently.

"Huh. Thought you'd ask who I am and then I'd have to explain to you what a mask was." The man admitted, deflating slightly. "Oh well. I know this because I can. I know it because I want to. I know it because you~" He trailed on melodically, pointing at Kiritsugu with a gloved finger. "~don't cover your tracks very well. Mind telling me about Natalia and Shirley? What about Norikat-" He was interrupted as the Calico in Kiritsugu's hand began firing again.

9mm Parabellum at one hundred fifty rounds per minute came flying towards the masked man. The first round was deflected by a blade and in the same motion, the masked man turned and crouched. The bullets which neared his cloak stopped in mid-air before flying off in random directions. Kiritsugu had to actually dodge one of his own rounds since it came back and nearly struck his leg.

"Do you like the cloak? It was a gift from my servant. As were these!" The masked man - hereby known as The Mask - shouted. He stood and turned to face Kiritsugu again. In each hand, were hook blades. It was the only proper name for such things. They looked like large fish hooks with handles. Over each handle, were crescent guards with sharpened tips. Behind the hilt was even sharpened. The Mask didn't seem to be very experienced with them, as he was holding the weapons rather far from his own body like he was scared of cutting himself. A gift perhaps, but not a very useable gift evidently.

"You must be Caster's master." Kiritsugu surmised, actually just guessing. He could see Kariya Matou using Berserker to account for his weak status as a master, but Tokiomi was up in the air.

"Could be, could be. Maybe I hold the leash of Berserker or Archer. Archer certainly could have given me a couple gifts - never know." He said, tapping the side of his hood-covered head with two fingers.

"Why not have your servant end this?" Kiritsugu asked, stalling for time to think. He couldn't use Origin Rounds unless this master let down his guard. His own bullets wouldn't work against him should the cloak deflect it towards him but a bullet was still a bullet.

"Servants fight servants, masters fight masters. I _could_ have Caster come with me, but then you'd just bring Saber here with a command seal. The plan is to have you believe you can defeat me, leave Saber out of this and then die because you underestimate my ability." The Mask rambled, motioning with his blade like this was all rather tedious. "And of course, I'm telling you all of this because I know it's exactly what you were thinking. Did you notice? It's something you'd do if our positions were reversed. The whole, underestimating into failure thing." The Mask pointed out, voice full of glee. This man knew his tactics too well. In order to defeat him, Kiritsugu would have to fight unpredictably, in a way which was never before seen.

Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes. The Calico was replaced within his trenchcoat. He cracked his neck and raised both fists, one about chest level and the other against his hip.

"Hm? Not going to use your guns anymore?" The Mask asked. Kiritsugu could have sworn he _heard_ the man's smile widening. "Oh well, suit yourself!" He cackled, running forwards and lifting his blades to strike. He was faster than a human ought to be, but far from servant levels, far from even Maeve's level.

The Mask swung down at Kiritsugu's shoulder, his other arm already thrusting the blade past him to try and plant that hook into his hip from behind. Kiritsugu had other plans. Using his gloved fists, he punched away the first blade with a backhanded strike to the side. He followed up his motions by grabbing the other sword by the blade. The Mask, having one arm blown to the side from impact and the other locked in place could only make a gasp of surprise. Who was underestimating who again?

 _ **Time Alter: Double Accel!**_ Kiritsugu called in his own mind. Immediately, time slowed to half as fast. Force was a factor of mass and time. If a strike was delivered in half the time, the force behind it would be twice as great. It was a ratio. Using Time Alter in this way would do precisely that. The hand which had deflected the first slashing strike - the left - snapped to Kiritsugu's hip, clenching tight before firing directly into The Mask's stomach.

Upon contact, Time Alter ceased and The Mask flew backwards from the impact, dropping his blades from the force. He rolled a few times, landing on his stomach with a groan. He pushed himself up with his arms before actually standing. "A-alright, you got me… Didn't know you could actually fight with your hands." The Mask admitted through coughs and wheezes.

"Order your servant to kill themselves and I'll let you leave alive," Kiritsugu stated. He could easily kill The Mask if he desired, but Caster could just as easily find a new master.

The Mask laughed through his wheezing. It was a rather empty sound from a man who was once so joyous. "You and I both know how that goes. I use my seals, then you kill me to tie up the loose ends. Can't ya just admit that I know you better than you know yourself?" He asked, standing and giving his head a shake. "And besides, I haven't shown you the other things Caster gave me!" He cackled like a maniac, reaching underneath his cloak to withdraw two pistols. They were silver, not just painted silver but actual solid silver. Modelled after the iconic M1911 with silencers of solid silver as well. They were engraved with gold and the two resonated with magical energy. Or were they made of mana? Kiritsugu didn't have the time to tell as two rounds flew towards him.

Each one _howled_ as they pierced the air. It must have been something with the bullet design, as it stopped upon lodging itself. The Magus Killer had to admit - these pistols were pretty damn intimidating. Thankfully Kiritsugu had pulled his Calico out while The Mask was drawing these new weapons. Firing his own torrent of rounds in return meant that The Mask couldn't fire those silver guns. He was forced to defend rather than attack - lest be he peppered with rounds. Besides the strange construction of the guns and the howling bullets, it seemed like they were perfectly average M1911's. The bullet velocity lined up, they were semi-automatic only it seemed that they never required a reload. Eighteen rounds had been fired yet The Mask didn't have the time to change magazines.

Looking around himself while trying to dodge and return bullets, Kiritsugu found absolutely nothing nearby. The path was simple, one long stretch of paving stones from the entrance to the main building. No bushes, no rocks and no sort of cover. There was only one place for Kiritsugu to go - into the Temple. While moving side to side, the Magus Killer maintained suppressive bursts all while backstepping. The Mask used that protective cloak of his to keep himself shielded and was still managing to keep Kiritsugu on guard with his howling rounds. A click, the Calico ran out of ammo and Kiritsugu whipped the weapon through the door of the Temple with a careless backwards flick of the arm.

" _ **Rune Seal Break: Eihwaz - Algiz - Isa!**_ " The Magus Killer chanted. White runes made themselves apparent across every inch of his outfit. Miniature and constantly moving they wrapped around his every curve and swirled across the material of his trenchcoat. Just as fast as they had appeared, they disappeared and the coat returned to normal. Kiritsugu turned tail and sprinted towards the Temple entrance. Bullets struck him in the back, but he hardly felt the impact as the rune enchantments did their job and diffused the force. He leapt into the building and skidded around the corner. When his back was against the wall, he looked towards his Calico. "Ehwaz - Mannaz" he mumbled, writing a string of runic in the air with one mana-charged finger. The discarded weapon slid along the ground and into his outstretched hand as if it were magnetic.

All of these new skills had been taught to him by Maeve. The seal break was a special technique Kiritsugu taught himself. Rather than have the runes active at all times and detectable, they would be hidden under carefully crafted seals he could break at any moment - as he had with the runes covering his coat. There were ways to go about having his clothes continuously enhanced while being undetectable, but they were expensive and time consuming to make. Not only that, but Kiritsugu's greatest asset was his ability to make mages underestimate him. Might as well go with a running theme. The only part of his attire he _had_ taken the time and effort to reinforce and mask in this way were his gloves. The very same gloves he had grabbed the blade of a sword with earlier. A quick glance verified they were still in perfect condition.

Not wasting a moment, Kiritsugu reloaded the Calico and tossed the empty magazine out around the corner - into the open. Kiritsugu was surprised to find that The Mask hadn't shot at his decoy. Then he realized why.

"Did I forget to mention this trinket too?" Came a grim voice from beside him.

" _ **Rune Seal Brea-**_ " Was as far as Kiritsugu got. A reverse side kick slammed directly into his chest before he could react. The Magus Killer managed to hold onto his Calico, but the sheer force of the blow sent him through the paper wall and tumbling down the paved stone pathway back towards the main gate. After a few tumbles, he stopped and slowly rose. The Magus Killer coughed violently and clutched at his chest. Just how many tools had Caster given their master?

"Just a few… Dozen." Came a proud response. It was as if The Mask had been reading his mind, or maybe just the look in his face. Kiritsugu looked for the hook blades on the ground but couldn't find them. They must have been recovered at some point. Kiritsugu withdrew his Contender, levelling it at The Mask. "Getting serious I see. Well, come on then - give me your best shot. From what I've heard, you've got something pretty serious in that weapon of yours. Rumour has it that nobody survives a single bullet. They must all be bad at dodging." The Mask droned on.

Good, if he didn't know of his Origin Rounds then that was simply another ace in the hand. One hundred percent mortality rate sometimes had benefits it would seem. But, if his words were accurate to his feelings, The Mask would put all his effort into defending this attack. Contemplating a plan, he decided and acted. With his middle finger, he pulled the break-action release and watched the standard 30-06 round fling past his ear. Reaching into his coat he withdrew an Origin Round from its holder and suddenly had to move to avoid a howling bullet. Kiritsugu only ducked to the right, but it meant that he couldn't complete the reload. Unable to react, a second well placed round slammed into his left shoulder.

The pain opened his hand and made him fling the Origin Round in a random direction. His whole body twisted with the impact and he rolled on his shoulder forwards. The rune reinforcement on his clothes had deflected the round and prevented it from piercing but the blow would certainly leave a massive bruise. Popping upwards, the Magus Killer decided to sprint towards the oncoming bullets. Kiritsugu was naturally good at dodging gunfire. Years of experience taught him how and when to move to make the shot placements predictable. Maeve was the one who actually showed him how to react and see attacks as they were happening. Combined, he was reacting and dodging to the bullets he knew would be coming at certain locations. In seconds he was within range of the Masked Man and rather than pull a gun, Kiritsugu threw a jab.

It was aimed for his stomach but the Masked Maniac leapt out of range, discarding his guns in the process. With a cackle, he withdrew a combat knife from his coat. Something different was that this knife was glowing red hot. The two entered an intense bout of combat. With each of them using weaponry they were proficient with, both had to fight for every inch. A strike halted by the threat of amputation, a singed coat as the flat of the blade was struck askew with an arm, a kick grabbed and launched into a toss, recovery, then a near-miss thrust of a blade, an elbow to the stomach, more deflected blade strikes. Grunts and impacts were the only sounds through the courtyard. Occasionally the swish of a blade made itself known, however, that was becoming more and more sparse as time went on. One of the two was finding their offence rapidly becoming inadequate.

A loud collision echoed over the trees and silenced the pair. An amplified punch exploded off the surface of a magically reinforced cloak. The clash of energy lifted dust from the ground Panting, the two men stood in that exact pose for a moment. "You're good, Kiritsugu." He commended, slightly lowering the cross-armed guard he had erected to halt the punch. They could look into each other's eyes. Two killers staring coldly into one another, trying to get insight however they could. "...This would be the part where I use some sort of device I've been hiding and claim that it wasn't good enough." The Mask looked to the left and right. "But I don't have anything like that."

Kiritsugu wanted to laugh, he really did, but he settled on snorting instead. "Then we keep going." The hand which had thrown the punch snapped through underneath The Mask's cross guard to grab his vest. One arm yanked the larger male close and the other reared back to place itself between the eyes of the actual mask. Recoiling, the man grasped at his face, turning his back to Kiritsugu and running his fingers over the surface.

"Tsk, you son of a bitch. How the hell can your bare fists break a Mystic Code? I knew you were tough, but how'd you get so damn strong? Hell, I hope to be like you in the future. Go into retirement for over six years and come back _better_ than when you left." The Masked Man rambled, looking upwards. "Well I guess since you broke the mask, our fun is over. Can't have you finding out who I am and all you know." He chuckled, snapping his heels together and standing tall. There was a clicking noise and The Mask turned slightly to peek at Kiritsugu. Half of the mask was littered with fractures, the other half was presumably missing as the barest bit of skin could be seen after the nose.

Kiritsugu was reloading the Contender with an Origin Round, eyes dead as he leveled the weapon. "Ah-ah-ah." The Mask started, raising a finger to cover where his mouth would be. "There's a servant listening and their name starts with C. Wouldn't want to upset them, would you? If you'd like to continue our fight you can reach me here. Just walk up the stairs and I'll get the jist. You'll have to be alone as well - otherwise, I might not fight fairly." The Mask said with a laugh.

As Kiritsugu started to squeeze the trigger a cloud of smoke slithered into existence beside The Mask. The first breath through the nose Kiritsugu took brought a sharp jab of pain. Gunsmoke and steel, this servant was the cause! Kiritsugu gave them a look over. The servant was taller than their master by about an inch, and that was pretty much where the differences ended. They both wore a black cloak and an eerie red mask, but for whatever reason, the servant elected to button their cloak up and wrap crimson bandages around the eyes of their mask. Every discernable feature was concealed.

"Are you two about finished? Watching you squander my tools was almost embarrassing, master." The servant spoke, crossing their arms beneath the cloak while staring directly at Kiritsugu.

"Yes, yes. We're done here. Unlike you, I- ah." He paused, reconsidering his words when the servant shot him a glare that could melt steel. "Right, you told me… Hm, anyway, they were valuable instruments but ultimately too mighty for my human body. How's that?" The Mask turned back to face Kiritsugu then. Unlike just moments prior, the mask was fully repaired.

"Better, marginally. I could only imagine what Archer would say were he here." Caster feigned enthusiasm, returning his gaze to Kiritsugu. "My recommendation is to deal with Archer before worrying about us. Consider us… A final challenge if you will. I would hurry up though. Tokiomi can't control the King of Kings and he might get restless. You've seen his power first hand, yes? So you know how easy it would be if he were… Unbound." Caster suggested cryptically.

"You heard the man, Kiritsugu. Go beat Golden Boy then you can come back and _try_ to beat us." The Mask grasped his chin and opened his mouth. A loud crack followed as it set in the correct place. "Alright, let's roll Caster. You can heal me up can't you?"

"No." Caster responded, grabbing his master by the waist and leaping into the air.

"What do you mean no?!" He shouted while being hauled away. Shouting becoming quieter with distance.

Kiritsugu watched the two leave before collapsing on his knees, gasping for air. He had used _way_ too much mana. All that rune casting and rune maintenance had actually started to degrade his body towards the end. He threw his trench coat off and let steam pour out of his form, trying to cool off his overheated skin. He was never a magus, he never considered himself one. His spells were incredibly inefficient and he could hardly perform any magecraft. He had a decent reserve of mana, but a large chunk of that was devoted to maintaining Saber. Following a minute of recovering, Kiritsugu stood on shaky legs and verified that everything was where it was supposed to be. He had lost an Origin Round in the fight but considering the circumstances, that was a decent trade. The Contender would be loaded with an Origin Round from now on just in case The Mask wanted to go back on his words. Without a reason to stay, Kiritsugu began the walk towards the arranged meeting spot. If he had brought Maiya along, would the fight have gone any other way? He had the woman watching Waver Velvet to ensure he hadn't relocated through the night. During the walk in the morning sun, Kiritsugu wasn't even considering whether his decisions in planning had been correct. All of his focus was on a single question.

… … ..

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If Archer was easier to defeat than Caster, what kind of _monster_ was Caster?

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 **Alright, 'nother chapter hits the bricks. More than 2100 views! Ten reviews and 50 some followers! I almost feel popular.**

 **Thanks to everyone reading** **and I hope you enjoyed it all so far. Nobody can inform Tokiomi that Gilgamesh is running wild. He has to guess based off mana drain! War is going sideways real fast. Hyatt is taken down a day later because Kiritsugu was having a talk with Saber, Caster isn't "Caster" and says he can EASILY beat Gilgamesh and who's the new master? (Big shoutout to whoever can guess both of them correctly,** **send me a PM!** **) Also Taiga crushing over Kiritsugu because it's rarely seen. AND, Kiritsugu finally puts his new skills to use.**

 **As a side note, I can hardly wait until Stay Night. So many ideas in my head and y'all won't expect** _ **any**_ **of em'.**

 **I said in last chapter's post (I think? Hard to remember) that I would feature/answer a randomly selected review so here's that! (** **Possible spoilers so read at your own discretion** **)**

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 **Suzululu4moe asked if Kiritsugu will only dream of the Fate Stay Night route or if he will be dreaming of Unlimited Blade Works or Heaven's Feel. I can say without a doubt that Kiritsugu will not be dreaming anything** _ **canon**_ **from this point on. He's disrupted the "original" timeline greatly. Besides that, he's already had a dream that isn't canon and the very perceptive readers should be able to put two and two together with the reveal of Caster. All I can say is the end of FSN will be vastly different than the canon.**


	5. Three Kings & Their Faithful Hound

**EDIT: Steel is an alloy of iron and carbon, and sometimes other elements. Because of its high tensile strength and low cost, it is a major component used in buildings, infrastructure, tools, ships, trains, automobiles, machines, appliances, and weapons. Iron is the base metal of steel. -Wikipedia. That's your daily fact, now don't expect them daily, or even chapterly, since that's too much work for my lazy ass.**

 **Greetings boys and gorls. A lot of readers are from America. So howdy, it's real cold up north just take it from me. School is piling up so if this was later than you expected I'm sorry. Trying hard to balance everything and this, unfortunately, comes near the end of my priorities. Btw, Grammarly for Google Docs sucks - hope they fix that soon.**

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Irisviel had held a face of disgust ever since she entered the sewers. It didn't smell as bad as one might expect, but the slime, grime, moss and mould was enough to turn most peoples stomachs. She was holding her hands together in front of her chest, looking around her at every little sound. Whether those sounds be from rats or the simple drip-drip of condensation off of pipes. Saber didn't seem to care, striding forwards with blade in hand. On her face, only determination.

"Just a little bit further, Irisiviel. This sewer opens into a large cistern which should house Caster." She left out the "if he's even here" part, but Iri still interpreted such. After the first night, Irisviel had elected to discard the white fur winter attire she had brought from Germany. How she was thankful for that now. It was unlikely that any of these stains would come out.

"I don't sense any residual mana, are you sure Caster will be here?" The homunculus asked, uncertainty in her voice. This entire 'investigate' thing was way more than she expected it to be. The silent creeping through dark, seemingly endless hallways just wasn't her style.

"You may be correct. We can only be sure if we see with our own eyes. Casters can be very deceiving." Saber wisely pointed out. She turned the corner and smirked upon seeing an opening into a large room with monumental pillars.

The two moved in silence and entered the cistern in the same fashion. The dark stillness of the spacious room chilled from the neck down. Irisviel could almost feel the cold moisture cling to her skin. It smelt stale, with a hint of copper and decaying flesh. A thin layer of grime coated every surface, making disgusting squishing noises beneath the two girl's footwear.

"I still do not sense anything. We will proceed a little further although it is unlikely we will discover something." Saber planned, marching onwards. They entered the cistern and beyond, passing the first row of columns. Upon finding nothing, Saber's shoulder untensed and her weapon came to rest calmly in one hand. Only her eyes remained on alert. They pierced through the darkness of the cistern, searching for threats that could be lurking within.

"The less time we spend in this place the better." The homunculus looked around herself, scowling at a particularly dark spot on the ground. "It's very foreboding… Dark things have happened here." Irisviel whispered, trying to peer into the darkness although she could hardly see beyond an arms length.

Saber turned and looked towards her fake master. "Alright Lady Irisviel, we can leave. We'll have to take the same route back, however." Saber conceded, leading towards where they had entered. Without warning, she stopped, motioning for Iri to do the same with an extension of her arm. "A servant is approaching, perhaps we were right all along." Saber motioned for Irisviel to move back, so she could be out of range of possible injury.

Down the tunnel where Saber was vigilantly watching, came the sound of rolling wheels along with the baying of bulls. The noise approached quickly and within moments, the illumination of lightning and sparks made shadows against the wall. Saber knew by noise alone that it was Rider, however, she did not know his intentions. In another second, the chariot careened into view. Laughter rose above the sound of bulls and wheels but the sound of amusement was cut short upon spotting Saber. With a yank of the reigns, the bulls slowed - albeit with great vocal displeasure - to stop in front of the King of Knights.

"We meet again, King of Knights. I had expected a servant, but not one so noble as yourself in a place like this." He commented. Saber had hardly caught it, but she was sure his smile widened when she scowled. "Unless we are too late. Have you discovered and slain whichever servant called this foul place home?" The cape-clad servant asked, leaning on the edge of his chariot while a smaller man peaked between the railings.

"King of Conquerors, regardless of the conditions of which we meet, you are not excused for tailing my master and I." Saber accused, blade clanking loudly into place as she set her stance.

Iskandar donned a look of confusion. "Tailing you?" He repeated before laughing heartily. "Nothing of the sort. My master discovered the sewers as a possible location for a workshop using some sort of magecraft." Rider explained with pride. In the background, Waver specified that it had been alchemy.

"Then your master is mistaken, as no servant resides within these sewers." Saber countered, turning suddenly to look toward a thump which came from one side.

There was a pained groan before the object stood and cracked it's back. It was a man if the voice was anything to go by. "I told you we wouldn't be late, we're just in time! Just because you're a stickler for punctuation doesn't mean you can just drop your master down a hole!" The man shouted to the ceiling, voice growing louder with anger towards the end of his rant. Mumbling profanities and curses, he brushed himself off and took a large breath. The man turned and revealed himself to the two servants who were both incredibly confused. This man wore black from neck to toe. On his face, was an eerie luminescent crimson mask. The mask was the only easily visible part of him. One had to squint and guess where the rest of his body was. At least, the humans did anyway.

"Where are my manners. I have guests, so a greeting is in order." The masked man bowed formally with a chuckle. After a moment, he stood tall and spread out his arms. "Welcome, welcome. You may call me… Limes, yes that will do fine. Limes like the fruit, you know?" He gestured with one hand in a small circle. When nobody acknowledged him, he waved off the one hand. "Moving on, Welcome Saber and Rider - or should I say Artoria and… I don't actually know your name." He admitted, placing one hand on his mouth and using the other to point towards Rider.

The servant in question smiled. "Iskandar, King of C-"

"And Iskandar." The masked man cut the servant off, deflating him entirely. "One of you is rather gullible. Figure out which one I'm speaking about." The Masked Man offered, flapping his wrists as if he were rushing them along.

Saber wasn't playing any games. Turning her body, she pointed her blade towards the man. "I won't indulge you by playing in these games. Who are you and how is it that you know of my name?" Saber's tone always had an odd sort of regality to it. Even her normal speech demanded attention and suggested the listener obey, or else.

The masked man froze like a statue in mid-wrist-flap, going straight stiff soon after. "Then you won't get any answers. If you indulge me by playing my game, you'll get answers to important questions which are rising in your mind at this very moment. Questions like, who am I? What do I plan on doing, how I know your name - Oh, wait, you already asked that one." He said, snickering at his own joke. "All those among various other questions. In a few minutes if you don't agree to play a simple game…" His voice suddenly turned dark. The hands which had been motioning flamboyantly to his words snapped rigidly to his sides. "You may find yourself asking how you can save yourself and Irisviel at the same time. Or something along the lines of; Caster how did you get so powerful?" The man in the mask shrugged when nobody responded. He lifted a hand to his forehead. "Oh right, you probably couldn't piece together that I'm Caster's master, well let me say it slowly for you.." And he did, every syllable stretched to the point where it was indecipherable.

Saber was never one to harm supposedly innocent men, nor was she one to become enraged over mere words but this individual was truly testing her patience. Protecting Irisviel was her main priority. When the man said her name, Saber almost felt Iri flinch somewhere behind her. Nobody should know her name. And what did he mean by protecting herself and Irisviel at the same time? Not wishing to test her fate against a servant she hadn't even laid eyes upon, she followed the path of least resistance. "Alright then… Limes. I believe Rider is the gullible one."

Limes glanced between the two. Rider looked hurt and was pouting, Saber just appeared determined. The masked man suddenly burst into laughter and gave a short round of applause. "Very good, very good. Your wisdom and intellect truly proceed you. This is far from surprising, Caster has spoken at length of you specifically Saber. If I were to guess I'd say he has a crush on you." Limes spoke the last part with an open hand against his mouth, as if that would prevent Caster from hearing it. "See? You've already gotten a hint into who Caster might be and that was on the first question!" Limes shouted, throwing his arms to the sky. He gazed between the two servants, both were very far from sharing his enthusiasm.

"Wait a minute, If your Caster's master, why would you come alone to see two other masters and their servants?" Came a question from Waver Velvet. It had been the first time Irisviel had heard him speak. She noticed he had said 'see' rather than 'attack', which was what she believed this man would do soon.

Limes simply snickered. "You think I'm alone, boy?" As if on command, the crimson mask seemed to split in two. Now two masks eerily glowed in the darkness. There had only been one other servant here before, Saber was sure of that. Where Caster had managed to appear from was beyond her comprehension. Unless… Did that cloak have some sort of magic resistance or magic concealing ability? Both master and servant wore it and both appeared as if they were normal humans. Only the mask gave their status as mages away. It exuded an overwhelming sense of dread, betrayal and anger. Caster's mask had this effect simply amplified. This was why Limes had been so confident. His servant had been with him the entire time. Both Saber and Rider went on guard, glancing between one another in a silent conversation. With their eyes alone, they agreed to work together should anything occur.

"I have to apologize on behalf of my master. He's on the edge of psychopathy if you couldn't tell already. It is good to see you again, Saber." Caster greeted, bowing formally. The servant and master could be passed off as twins by their appearance. The only variance was that Caster elected to button up his cloak and some sort of wrapping was concealing his eyes.

"Again? We have not spoken before this time. Explain yourself, Caster." Saber growled, growing more and more aggravated as the exchange continued. Her name being common knowledge was enough to make her upset. Constantly being infantilized and disrespected by everyone around her was infuriating. It was nearing the point of making her consider actions against her code of honour. With the patience only found within true kings, she ground her teeth and held back the tide of anger.

Caster actually seemed uncomfortable, shrugging and tilting his head. "It's hard to explain. If I did explain it, you wouldn't actually be able to understand it, so let's just say I've fought alongside you." He must have seen the pieces click into place behind her eyes because he suddenly shook his head. "No I'm not a Knight of the Round and I'm not Merlin either. Don't Excali-Blast me because you think I'm Lancelot or Gawain." He chuckled dryly, coughing awkwardly when nobody joined in. "It's just better that you don't know who I am. If everything I've planned goes correctly, you won't need to know anyway."

"Hey now, hey now! Stop stealing my show!" Limes berated. Caster turned to face his master, then glanced back at Saber to bow farewell. In a whiff of smoke, the servant left "Back to our regularly scheduled programming." Limes began with a muffled clap of gloved hands. "Since Saber answered my first questio-"

"Before either of us continue, what is your plan here, Limes? If you ultimately seek a fight then let us skip the pageantry and commence battle." Rider was the one to speak up now, appearing rather disinterested as he leaned over the chariot railing on one elbow.

Limes sighed and rubbed the bridge of his mask's nose with two fingers. "I'm not here to attack either of you, I just wanted to mess with the two of you and give you some answers at the same time. It's a fair trade, entertainment for information. Now can we finally get back to the game?" He asked, not really waiting for an answer as he leapt right back into his overjoyed state. "Since we've been thoroughly delayed, we'll have to skip the commercial break and leap right into round two! As Saber has answered the first question, the second question goes to you; Rider." He paused a beat, the two servants simultaneously thought they heard the sound of applause. "Since you were the ones misled, how do you believe it was done?"

Rider moved into a thoughtful pose, staring slightly upwards while trying to use one of his weaker muscles - his brain. After a few seconds, Saber thought she could smell something burning. "He put mana into the water supply purposefully." Waver spoke up again.

"Correct! Caster suggested it after all. Like Saber, he knows quite a bit about you as well, Waver Velvet." Limes agreed. "He cast some spells and let the mana runoff into the water supply. It leached into the river and your skill in alchemy pinpointed the exact sewer entrance we wanted you to come from. Saber was unexpectedly easy. We were planning on using a lure of sorts but once we saw what you were already planning to do, we let sleeping dragons lie."

"All this effort to pester us with petty questions which have no purpose?" Saber asked. Before Limes could answer, Caster reappeared in front and spoke overtop of him.

"I'll have to agree with Saber, master. These questions are useless and the ones you have planned to ask will only escalate the situation. I'll be conducting this game from now." Caster stated, voice rather cold and calculated in comparison to his carefree controller. "Question one, why are you fighting this War, what is your wish?"

The other servants flinched. This was a massive change in pace, but far from unwelcome. Even a rat would have been more appealing to them than Limes. Saber spoke first. "To stop the fall of Britain, disregarding my position as king if I have to."

"Stupid." Caster replied monotonously, getting the King of Knights to flinch as if struck. He turned his mask towards Rider. He seemed nervous, surprising for a man so large. Suddenly he spoke one word but neither of the servants with their enhanced hearing could even pick it up. "Pardon?"

"..Reincarnation." Rider's face was embarrassed, but he suddenly grew to look determined. "I wish to conquer the world with my own two hands!" Saber and Caster most likely had the same face at that moment. The only name for the emotion was: "Really?"

"Even more idiotic." Caster turned to look at Saber. "One of you wants to rewrite history and change every subsequent event afterwards, creating a paradox where everyone you knew and loved lacks your guidance to carry them forwards. Your comrades in arms will fall without you, or fail to rise in the first place - Bedivere specifically leaps to mind. The cascading domino effect such a lack of figurehead would create might alter the entire world as we know it." He critiqued, turning to Rider. "The other wants to be a living, breathing person again so they can attempt to conquer a world they know nothing about, with no comrades, no supplies and no real ability besides charging forwards like a buffoon. You and I both have been granted knowledge of the modern world through the Throne. Do you really think the Clocktower would permit a fully-fleshed servant to take over the known world?" Caster shook his head. "So small minded, have neither of you sat down alone and truly considered the repercussions of your potential wishes?"

Silence descended over the cistern. The sound of dripping moisture filled the gap as the berated servants digested the spoken words. If they would actually develop from the information was another story. "What wish do you have for the Holy Grail then, Caster?" Rider asked, actually interested in the servant's words. Caster's master had been too flamboyant and confident to be respected. Caster spoke with calm honesty and intelligence which was almost refreshing to experience.

"I have no wish for the Grail, It cannot grant my true wish in its current state regardless." Caster replied solemnly as if he were disappointed with the fact.

"What wish could possibly exceed the power capabilities of an omnipotent wish granting device?" Saber asked, watching Caster shuffle nervously.

"Perhaps I will explain it to you at some other time."

"Why not this evening?" Came a suggestion from Rider. "Of course not in this dreary place, but somewhere we can all communicate our desires and continue this game with Caster."

"The Einzbern Castle is accommodating enough for such an event," Irisviel suggested sheepishly, getting a shocked look from Saber. "The main courtyard is spacious enough and open to the air. It is secluded from the public as well." Irisviel stated, listing the positive attributes of the castle.

"It's also home to one of the most dangerous servant classes of a highly prestigious mage family. How can we be sure it won't be trapped?" Waver added a very strong point against the location.

"A little insulting don't you think, boy? The lady offered her hospitality in her own home and you accuse her of underhanded tactics?" Rider commented with a smile, enjoying the fact his master was growing more confident as well as tactically wise.

"On my honour as an Einzbern, I swear there shall be no traps or tricks. Caster can even verify the lack of magical elements upon his arrival."

Caster didn't respond one way or another to the comment. "The Einzbern castle is acceptable to me. Regardless of how my master objects to such a meeting. I will attend with or without him."

"Preferably without." Saber absently commented, sword still poised to strike at a moments notice. Not once had she left her battle ready position.

"Agreed." Rider nodded. Caster's master hmph'ed and crossed his arms like a berated child. He even turned around and began grumbling to himself. "If we are all accepting of the location, let us be off so we do not infuse our clothes with this stench."

Nobody had any objections to that.

… … …

… … …

… … ..

"What the hell was that, Rider!?" Waver shouted, walking alongside his servant. After they had left the sewers, Rider magically changed into his casual clothing which consisted of a T-shirt and blue jeans. The shirt was a true miracle of fabric engineering. How it wasn't torn to shreds while straining against Rider's muscular figure was awe inspiring.

"Yes, Caster was quite a sight wasn't he? That mask with such an impressive gaze was quite mystifying." Rider marvelled, scratching his face appreciatively.

"I wasn't talking about Caster you big oa-" Waver was cut off when a flick to his forehead sent the young man careening into a pile of trash tactfully positioned in an alleyway.

"I know what you were referring to, I simply ignored it. Even with my noble phantasm, Caster and Saber would be able to destroy us both. When Caster stated his desire for peace, I sided with him. If Saber had suddenly decided on being the aggressor, I would have leapt to Caster's side." Rider stated with pride. "Whoever made the first strike would have been deemed the aggressor."

"How can you say that when we ma-" Another flick.

"Quiet, boy. You know what the girl said about information and all that." Rider chastised, stopping so his master could pick himself up and rejoin his side. He was grumbling something and rubbing his head but Rider's words seemed to remind him of something rather important. "Surprise is an advantage used only once." Rider stated wisely.

Waver continued nursing the mark on his head as they walked towards a well-known shopping district. Rider had to ask a local for precise location. Since Waver didn't actually know Japanese, Rider became a translator due to his proficiency in all language - a perk of being a servant. Mount Miyama, the shopping area, was the center of marketplaces in Fuyuki. Unlike Shinto, where most businesses were large chains with cheap but plentiful goods, Miyama held small shops which, while limited in variety, were of high quality. Upon hearing this, Rider made it his goal to search for a quality wine suitable for the oncoming banquet.

"With your size, it'd be hard to surprise a blind man." Waver grumbled, getting a laugh from his servant.

"Indeed, however, size does not always correlate into skill. Take that little girl, Saber, for example. While not as large as myself she could easily overpower my blows." Rider ardently remarked, looking at the various stalls some distance ahead.

"Wait, so you're saying a little girl a few inches shorter than me could beat you?" Waver asked with some shock

"That is not entirely what I have said. While she may have more power in each strike, she would not be able to defeat me." He said with confidence.

Waver was silent for a moment. Rider probably gleaned that information from his time fighting beside her against Archer. Come to think of it, Rider never commented on Archer after that fight. Was it because he was as scared of the servant as Waver was himself? Wait a minute… That blonde man up ahead-! It couldn't be!

"King of Conquerors," Archer stated, less a greeting and more of a tiresome acknowledgement. Rather than flashy golden armour, the servant of the bow had elected to wear a black blazer with clean white accents and a single white pinstripe. Complementing his jacket, the servant decided to wear simple black trousers and a half-unbuttoned white dress shirt beneath the blazer. His hair was still spiked to the heavens and his golden earrings still gleamed in the afternoon sun.

"King of Heroes." Rider acknowledged with much more enthusiasm. "Enjoying the sun or looking to purchase something?" Rider asked. He must have said something insulting, as the golden servant scrunched his face in disgust.

"The modern world is filthy. I have no desire for any trinkets as they would disgrace my collection." Archer scoffed, carelessly glancing towards one of the buildings full of souvenirs.

"Come now, there must be some items of value which you do not have. Why just recently I purchased a video game and found it quite entertaining!" Rider boasted, thumping his fist against the logo on his shirt with pride.

"If it is enough to entertain a lowly mongrel like you, it might be enough to bore me." Archer shot back, subtly implying he may actually have to try such a thing. Was this really how these two should be acting? Archer had almost obliterated three separate servants at once while barely taking a single scratch. Now they were talking as if they were old friends over something as idiotic as video games. Waver peeked at Archer from his hiding place behind his servant.

"Say, King of Heroes, would you be interested in a night of discussion involving the other servants? Saber and Caster will be attending as well." Rider propositioned, to the dismay of one specific master who had paled considerably.

"Intriguing, you mongrels have decided to communicate amongst one another? I may have to grace the meeting with my presence if only to watch animals attempt coherent thought." The King of Heroes said with an absolute shit-eating grin.

"Perhaps you can grace us mongrels with the knowledge of your name while you share a drink then. We meet at the Einzbern castle tonight, attend whenever you desire following sunset, King of Heroes." Rider laughed, passing by the other servant. Archer could have demolished the entire area with the snap of his finger and Rider was actually taunting him! Either he was just that stupid or… Well, there really wasn't any other option in this case. Waver glanced behind him to where Archer had been a few moments ago and found no trace of the servant. This was going to be a long night, wasn't it?

… … …

… … …

"You believed the best place for a gathering of all-powerful servants to be our main base of operations." Kiritsugu summarized, blinking a few times in disbelief while his wife nodded enthusiastically. With a sigh, Kiritsugu turned to Maiya who was standing some distance away, leaning against a wall. "We'll need more explosives, it won't do enough to kill either servant bu-"

"No explosives or traps!" Irisviel interrupted her husband, surprising everyone - including the homunculus herself - with the outburst. She shrank under Kiritsugu's cold gaze and found words difficult to form. "Saber and I promised that there would be no tricks in this meeting. It won't escalate into fighting Kiritsugu, I promise." She pleaded, looking into his dead eyes with stubborn resolve.

Eventually, he faltered under her stare and softened. "Maiya, we'll need to prepare the other property. We've overstayed here and after this meeting, one of the servants may grow too confident. An hour following tonight's events, we'll relocate." Kiritsugu ordered. He nodded towards Irisviel as a message that she could continue as she saw fit. Maiya followed behind Kiritsugu and the pair moved to the pseudo-planning room.

"The only part of this plan I haven't fully decided on is whether we should remain during the meeting or not," Kiritsugu revealed. He took a moment to disarm the trap set on their intelligence, lifting the map-tarp off and taking a journal from the pile after he was done. "I don't want you to go alone anymore, things are getting too dangerous for us to act apart. Caster has suddenly become an active member and if his goal really is to 'mess' with me then you might be their next target." Kiritsugu lamented, flipping open the journal and writing something down with a fountain pen. The pages of the journal were well worn. Wrinkled near the turning edge and covered with ink from top to bottom. Littered throughout the pages were sticky notes and even letters which spread the pages apart. They were taped into place to prevent them from falling out. She didn't try to look directly, but Maiya caught her own name - among others - written on the letter face

"Sir, Caster has made it known that he wishes to remain neutral through the War until you are prepared." Maiya reminded, not wishing to express her own opinion on the matter. If she had, she would have told him that he was worrying too much over her. She was expendable anyway, why should he care about a simple tool?

Kiritsugu was silent, pen still while his mind worked. When the pen resumed, his voice followed. "Caster's master has made it publically known that his main goal is to disrupt things. I may have a plan that could use this against him." The journal closed and the Magus Killer slid the pen into the bindings. "We'll load up the car with what we need then get you prepared. I have something I'd like you to carry, just in case." Kiritsugu offered, getting a slight nod from Maiya as she began gathering handfuls of documentation she had just brought in a little more than a day ago.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the surrounding forest in warm colours. Being the end of winter, the trees were all dead which meant this orange-red bath had actually given the normally serene forest an eerie vibe. Regardless of the season, the area surrounding the Einzbern castle perpetually smelled of smoke. Like a campfire in the distance, or smouldering wood beneath one's feet. It seemed to rise out of the ground and the bark of each tree. Why such a phenomenon existed was beyond anyone's reasoning. Kiritsugu had hypothesized that the bounded field surrounding the area was the source, but a similar field existed around the castle back in Germany which lacked the smell.

Maiya had long since left for the other property, stopping at an apartment and two other buildings to mislead any followers. Each stop, she delivered fake packages of 'supplies' which were actually explosives. A slight magical enchantment was cast over them to prevent a common curious citizen from opening the package and blowing themselves up, as well as make them appear genuinely important.

Kiritsugu was confident that she would be alright. He turned from the window and clambered down the stairway to move closer towards the courtyard. Rider and Caster would soon be here and he intended to watch as well as ensure nothing funny was afoot. In his spare time, the Magus Killer had enchanted a large tablecloth with a healthy dosage of Perth runes. Perth was the runic symbol for mystery. It allowed the cloak to exhibit properties similar to an Assassin's presence concealment. Not even servants could detect him without searching for him specifically. Stacking a single character upon itself multiple times as he had done decreased stability but greatly increased the quality of concealment. He had taken a bit longer than he wanted, but between having the material explode in his face and taking a little bit more time, he'd pick the latter. Throwing the sheet over himself like a large cloak, Kiritsugu moved to peek out a window overlooking the courtyard. Nothing to do now besides wait and hope the two other thirds of his team conducted themselves properly.

… … …

Rider and Caster arrived almost in unison. Rider carried with him a barrel of alcohol under one arm and his master under the other. He rode into the courtyard valiantly upon a chariot which left without him when he was deposited. Caster appeared already seated in a puff of smoke - without his master. Kiritsugu immediately thought of Maiya. The Mask - apparently named Limes - would be waiting for Maiya.

"Much better than that sewer, no?" Rider asked, laughing as he set down the barrel and his master. "It took all afternoon to locate a barrel of premium wine but it was worth each minute!" The brute raised one clumsy fist to smash open the top before he found his motion halted. Caster had moved underneath him to hold back his arm. For someone who appeared rather scrawny, he was rather strong. The cloak seemed to make sleeves around his arm to only reveal his hand - which was covered in tight black gloves.

"I prefer my wine with fewer splinters." He commented, reaching into his cloak and withdrawing a nameless dagger. With it, he precisely sliced the very top from the barrel. It was odd seeing a blade cut through solid wood as if it were tissue paper. With a laugh from Rider, Caster returned to his seat and replaced the blade in his cloak.

The layout of the courtyard was simple. Rectangular in construction and neatly designed with thin trees, hip-height hedges and flower beds. Four paths extended to a large paved circular center. Each path led to an entrance of the castle - or exit depending on how one looked at it - set in the middle of each surrounding wall. With their current numbers, Saber, Rider and Caster made three-quarters of a plus-sign, or an X depending on how you looked at it.

Rider dunked a long-handled water scoop into the open barrel and took a hearty drink. He refilled the cup and began passing it around. Once everyone had taken their first drink the conversation began.

Or it would have if golden sparks hadn't distracted everyone. Archer's figure suddenly came into view and immediately, Caster and Saber leapt to their feet. Saber had even withdrawn her blade. "Archer!" They both shouted in unison.

"What are you doing here-"

"What is the meaning of this?"

The two spoke overtop one another. Rider looked embarrassed, Waver facepalmed and the golden servant simply laughed. "Your reaction is far from surprising. Gazing upon royalty in its purest form is indeed rather shocking." He stated and then proceeded to do the wildest, most unexpected thing: He sat down cross-legged.

Caster and Saber exchanged glances before a cough directed their attention to Rider. "I may have run into Archer during my search for drink." He scratched the back of his neck. "And I may have invited him to our banquet." He admitted.

"If you mongrels require it to act civilized, I bid my word as King of All Things that I shall not act out of place should you provide a modicum of entertainment." Archer huffed with closed eyes. "Now am I to be served or am I to do it myself?" He asked with a tone indicating there was only one correct answer.

Rider twitched as he noticed his oversight and he wasted no time moving to correct it. Taking one sip, the King of Heroes scowled and insulted the quality of Rider's beverage. Through a golden portal, he brought forth his own gold pitcher of wine and four gilded chalices for each servant. Upon tasting this new drink, all present complimented the quality. After sampling the truly decadent wine, the standing servants settled back down and contributed to a growing awkward silence.

"Archer, you may not have met this servant, but the one in black and crimson is Caster. As far as we know, he is an admirer of our King of Knights." Rider explained, trying to fill in the golden servant with details. Caster himself was sure his cheeks were the same colour as his mask, he was silently cursing his master's existence and large mouth simultaneously. "They also lack a wish for the Grail." Rider added, getting a snort of derision from Archer.

"That's not entirely true, Rider." Caster commented, sipping his beverage through a straw underneath his mask. It was unclear where it had come from, but it was certainly there now. "I have a wish, it simply cannot be granted by the Grail." Caster clarified, looking towards Saber in anticipation.

"Previously you declined the chance to explain the meaning of that, would you care to elaborate now?" Saber pried, eyeing Caster with a predatory gaze.

Caster looked down at his drink, swirling it around the edges. "Perhaps during my second glass, return to me then." He acquiesced. "I feel rather intimidated being in the presence of great and mighty kings while I have had no such title."

"Speaking of titles…" Saber began.

"Titles indeed, Saber and I know the titles of one another quite well. However, we have little on you, Caster. And we lack your formal name, oh King of Heroes." Rider finished for her, looking between the two mentioned servants with a smile.

Caster wiggled in his seated position, taking another sip to try and pass off his obligation to speak. Archer narrowed his eyes, knowing quite well what Caster was doing. He deciding not to call him out on it - yet. "It should have been quite obvious from the moment you laid eyes upon me, but let it be said I am nothing if not forgiving." Archer scowled. "The King of Kings, the King of All Heroes, the Oldest King, the True King, all titles belong to me: Gilgamesh, the Wedge of Heaven." He introduced himself, taking a sip from his chalice.

Two of the three other servants gaped. His name alone explained why he had been so ridiculously powerful. Gilgamesh was a very well known servant to the Throne. Mainly because he was labelled the "Ultimate Servant Killer" with access to every known noble phantasm and an impossible number of everything else. It seemed that the surprised reaction pleased the True King if the smile he had indicated anything.

"Those are quite the titles, you must have been a true hero in your life." Rider admired, taking a mighty gulp and refilling his chalice.

"If I may, I request we return to Caster," Saber added in, getting a nod of acceptance from the other servants as they honed in on the spell-caster.

"As I said, being in the presence of such powerful, royal servants is rather intimidating. The only title I had came to me after my death. It's unlikely that you know of me, but if The Iron Hound rings any bells I'll be surprised. Less desirable names were directed my way during my life. Names like Face of Betrayal or Soldier of Misfortune." He paused to take a sip from his cup. "Not like any of them were accurate, but rumours can sway the public. You would know firsthand, Saber." Caster shrugged, looking up and between the other servants. Even trying to relate to her wasn't working. That scowl of Saber's indicated as much.

Rider hummed, nodding appreciatively. "A few times you have expressed your knowledge of Saber and her history. How did you come about this?" Rider asked, interested in who was informing the servant.

Caster sighed. "That question is as convoluted as my true name. I hope you won't find it insulting if I ask you to accept the notion that I knew her quite well in my life."

Saber was quick to leap in. "You have admitted you are not a Knight of the Round or someone close to me during my time as King of Britain so how is it that you know me so well without ever having lived during my time?" Saber asked, growing more accusatory and vindictive with each question.

"I never said I did not live during your period. Nor did I specify which period I was alive in." Caste shot back, peering down into his cup and swirling it around again. "Why don't we move on from mysterious topics for now. King of Conquerors, why do you ask others to join your ranks if you know they are kings themselves? Such a proposition goes against a king's natural code, does it not? I believe that both Saber and Archer can agree with me on that point." Caster asked, turning the attention off himself towards Rider. Saber actually nodded in agreement and Archer closed his eyes. What that meant was up to interpretation.

Rider took a smaller drink, cheeks turning a shade of red as alcohol, aged for hundreds of years and of the finest quality, hit him like a tonne of bricks. "What you say is all true. If I were asked to follow under the wing of another King I would obviously decline. I ask not out of the desire to subordinate those around me but out of a desire to avoid senseless fighting. Co-operation could make the goal of claiming the Grail so simple."

"Are you forgetting that only one servant can claim the grail?" Saber asked.

"Not at all. If we worked together we could determine who deserved the Grail by merit and wish alone." Rider clarified

Archer laughed at that. A surprisingly honest sound which almost verged on hysterics. "You believe the Grail should go to the one of greatest merit? Of purest wish? What lunacy! By your words alone, you've admitted the Grail should go to me." Archer pointed out, continuing to laugh. Caster was actually chuckling as well although Saber found this all far from entertaining.

"That is enough, Archer." She levelled. All other servants slowly silenced themselves and turned towards the petite king. "Rider, It is surprising that I agree with you…" She began, pride swelling through Rider's features. "...but it expected that I only agree with half of what you have said." Rider deflated and grumbled through a sip of wine. "The servant with the greatest wish is the most deserving on the Grail, merit does not dictate worth."

"Ah, clever. As expected from the ado- King of Knights." Caster commented with a cough, obscuring his blunder by sipping wine. Gilgamesh scowled at Caster before his attention was turned to Rider.

"Caster has already destroyed our wishes with logic so who out of us do you believe to be deserving of the Grail off this new criteria?" Rider asked, looking towards Caster accusingly.

"Come now, the man wearing cloth and ceramic used logic to defeat the two of you? I should attend meetings of mongrels more often, this is hilarious!" Gilgamesh laughed heartily, sipping from his chalice.

"Their wishes were not thought out, I simply pointed out basic flaws." Caster mumbled in his own defence.

"Our wishes may have been found to hold flaw, however, they are still valid." Saber resumed.

"Being reborn still has value?" Rider asked with confusion. He had thought over his wish at length following the first meeting with Caster and had concluded that his wish was rather short-sighted.

"Hm? Of course, it does. If I had plans of using the Grail, that would be my own wish." Gilgamesh interjected, narrowing his eyes as he turned to face Caster once again.

The servant being stared down by demonic red eyes shrank slightly. "Rider's wish was not simply reincarnation, Archer. It was reincarnation so he could conquer the world with his own hands. I pointed out that the current rulers of the world wouldn't appreciate that very much was all." Caster clarified in a hurry, not wishing to have his form demolished by countless noble phantasms. Archer seemed to accept that answer and resumed chuckling as quiet as he could manage. "And don't get me started on Saber's wish." He mumbled.

Saber loudly cleared her throat. Through this entire assembly, she seemed to be the acting mediator. Even when drinking - she was currently on her third cup - she couldn't relax it would seem. "Caster, you have proven to me that perhaps my wish deserves a second thought but that does not give you the right to be arrogant."

"Arrogant? Saber you misunderstand. I do not believe I'm better than anyone else here. In fact, I think I'm the least deserving of the Grail and the least likely to claim it. I just came for a drink and - to be honest - some time away from my master." Caster clarified, taking a drink and motioning for a refill when he was finished.

"My apologies for misinterpreting then," Saber admitted, sipping more wine and letting a beat of silence fill the air. "You've had your drink of wine, Caster. Care to explain your wish now?"

All eyes fell on Caster for what felt like the dozenth time that night. With a light sigh, the servant drank heavily through his straw and requested another refill. When his chalice was replenished, he spoke. It was all or nothing. "The Grail is not what it seems." His words made the other servants scoff, one even rolled their eyes. "Hear me out." Caster demanded, drawing attention back to his words. "During the Third Grail War, the Einzbern's - the family Saber is currently summoned under - summoned a ninth class type servant." The other servants seemed confused. Saber and Rider repeated the number in disbelief. "In a normal Grail War, there are seven servants." Caster proceeded to list the names of each classification. With each name, he raised a finger. When all seven were accounted for, he raised the eighth finger. "There is also the Ruler class, a servant more powerful than all the other normal seven classes combined. This is a predetermined class summoned in the background of the Grail during each War. Similar to the Overseer of the Church, Rulers act as a mediator. If a servant or master tries to dismantle the Grail War or the system of the Grail, Ruler will strike with impunity to resume the normal course of the war." Caster paused to sip. "While I can only hypothesize scenarios Rulers would be required, one example might be if all the masters and servants of a war decided to collectively stop fighting and halt the progress of the Grail. Ruler would be summoned with the single purpose of disrupting the members of that team. Ruler's only goal would be to resume the natural flow of the Grail War by whatever means necessary." Caster paused for a drink and a breath.

"If the Grail is not what it seems already, why has a Ruler not been summoned?" Saber asked, actually interested in what Caster had to say now.

"I'm getting to that." Caster chided, clearing his throat. "The ninth servant class I mentioned is called Avenger. I actually have no idea how or why such a servant can be summoned, but the servants which qualify typically have a reason to seek revenge - hence the name. In the Third Grail War, the Einzbern's summoned one of these Avenger servants. To my knowledge, it was incredibly weak and died easily in the War to Sabers and yes, Sabers - plural. The Einzbern's forgot about their chance at victory and carried on. Little did they know, Avenger corrupted the Grail from the inside out after his death. The first symptom came in the form of changes to the summoning ritual. In the first three Wars, only true heroes like yourselves were able to be summoned. In this War and all the Wars of the future, anti-heroes and outright villains have been added to the Throne of Heroes and are able to be summoned. As far as I know, it cannot be fixed by any form of magecraft. Unfortunately, I do not have access to true magic, so the outcome of that is undetermined. But the corruption does not end there." Caster paused for another drink. The other three servants were entirely invested. Even Archer almost looked concerned. "You all have no doubt heard of The Monkey's Paw? An incredibly dull, cliche story which informs the reader should be careful what they wish for. Instead of a useless story, however, the Grail has made it a reality - and amplified it. As an extreme example, if a servant offered a wish to be alone in their own personal paradise, the Grail would kill every living human being and reincarnate the servant. They would, in a sense, be alone. Or… If someone were to maybe wish for an end to all conflict, humans with an evil element would be killed. What could constitute as an evil element? I have no idea. However, leaving the entire human populace in the hands of a magical artifact is a terrible idea. Your guess is as good as mine as to how it could misinterpret your wishes. Your wish could make it so that you were never even born or it could turn you into a tyrant who murders for the prosperity of her country. And your wish could have you reincarnated as a Dead Apostle." Caster motioned his head towards Saber and then Rider respectively.

A long period of dead silence ensued as all servants digested the information. "A relic which brings suffering and pain through wishes? All the more reason for me to add such a thing to my collection." Archer said with a smile.

"You wish to collect such a foul device?" Saber gasped, glaring at Archer.

"Of course. Many items within my treasure exist only to kill humans or gods for that matter. Another amongst their ranks would be far from surprising. The expected use of an item does not dictate the item's worth Rather, because the Grail is coveted, it is valuable and because it is valuable, I must have it." Gilgamesh spoke as if his words were gospel.

Caster scratched the top of his head. "I think you vaulting the Grail would actually create a paradox which would tear the membrane between the Throne of Heroes and reality apart. Correct me if I'm wrong, but in order for items to leave your vault you must actualize the opening and retrieval before it becomes physical." Archer was still frowning, but he nodded once. Although he disliked another knowing his abilities so well, sometimes knowledge was valued greater than emotions. "If you took the Grail and admitted it to your vault and that action concluded the war. When you dematerialize - the physical copy of you within the Throne of Heroes would hold the Grail inside his treasury. If you weren't summoned in the following war, when the war called for the Grail it would violate the laws of both the Throne and your noble phantasm by trying to pull a physical relic through a timeless, ephemeral plain of existence, from a mana-coded flesh copy of..." Caster trailed off, tilted his head as if to think before giving it a shake. "This is all just guesswork. Anything could happen, really." He surmised, wrapping both hands around his chalice before returning to gazing at the crimson fluid within. Archer chose to hold his forked tongue.

"That was quite an explanation." Rider marvelled, then scratched his head. "You lost me about halfway."

Saber sighed. "No matter who uses the Grail, it will cause as much death as possible." She summarized, wondering how such a man could conquer a large part of Asia.

"More or less." Caster agreed.

"But is our wish still completed?" Rider asked sheepishly, getting fierce glares from Caster and Saber. The answer was actually far from a direct no. Theoretically, the wish would be granted.

Caster suddenly twitched. "Ah, it would appear my master has bitten off more than he can chew." He said absently, looking between the servants present before snapping his head towards a window on the second floor of the castle. "If I must leave abruptly, it will not be by my own hand and I apologize in advance."

"Even if you are not departing at this moment, I am," Archer stated abruptly, closing his eyes. "You have failed to continue providing entertainment and I being dissected by a spellcasting mongrel infuriates me. You may enjoy what is left of the wine. Consider it a gift from one king to another." He passed off, fading away into golden sparks. Caster gleaned from his quick exit that Archer had left to control his anger. If he had stayed any longer, his temper may have gotten the better of him.

All three servants collectively released a breath. The air was so much easier to breathe without Archer nearby. "You still have yet to reveal your wish, Caster."

"Ah… My wish, I had hoped you would forget about that." Caster admitted. "My wish is simple but ungrantable. I wish to save everyone. Knowing how the Grail works, it would be turned into kill everyone because of the old saying: 'salvation in death' and all that. Because of what I have learned, I have opted to abandon the wish in its entirety."

A brief beat of silence ensued before Saber spoke up. "Ironic that the one who pointed out how futile our wishes were had to abandon his own." There was no pity in her voice. It wasn't quite spite, more like neutrality. Was she actually beginning to warm up to the servant?

Caster laughed. "Maybe my human stubbornness drove me to accept the contract. I must have thought I could change fate and achieve my dreams regardless of what I had heard, what I had known. Upon becoming a servant, I realized my wish was far from accomplishable, and I've continued to realize that as time goes on." He paused, emptying the last sip from his chalice and setting it down. "I don't regret the choice though. Never once have I regretted any of it. I think it's better to take action - even if it leads to an undesirable result - than sit back and do nothing."

Saber actually smirked. "You sound almost human." Her voice was soft, but the sarcasm within it made the other two servants chuckle. "I have only one question remaining. After that, I will allow Rider to ask as many as he so desires. You and I have taken an overwhelming majority of the conversation tonight." She nodded towards Caster.

"Indeed!" Rider laughed out, slugging back the rest of his chalice.

"Perceptive as always, King of Knights. I'll answer whatever question you can come up with."

"Very well." Saber followed Rider's lead and drained her own cup. Upon doing so, she bashed one gauntleted hand against her breastplate and closed her eyes. "Why conceal yourself so thoroughly? Is your identity such a great secret or are you simply repugnant to look at?"

Caster and Rider shared a look before breaking out into roaring amusement, even Saber joined in with a chuckle. "Who would have thought the girl to have such a sharp tongue?" Rider asked no one in particular, doubling over in a fit of laughter.

"Alright, alright. I've had enough wine to actually affect me. I've no fear of revealing my features to anyone any longer." Caster agreed, reaching up and first removing the crimson band over his eyes. His head was down, so nobody could see the colour or shape of his eyes just yet. Caster fumbled around with something around the back of his head and as the mask fell…

The very space around Caster distorted and in a blink - he was gone.

Saber had long since stopped her outburst of mirth while Rider was still snickering at the joke, wiping tears from his eyes and taking heavy breaths to control himself. "It would seem his master really was overconfident. A shame that the timing had to leave us on a cliffhanger." Rider looked longingly into his empty chalice, recalling the memory of when it was full. "Quite inconsiderate."

Saber was quiet for a moment, sipping her own almost empty drink. "I had entered this meeting despising the man. But after hearing his explanations and coming to better understand his reasoning, my hatred has turned into slight respect." Saber admitted, getting a chuckle from Rider.

"That reminds me, Saber. Did you ever have someone special back in your life?" Rider curiously. He had his eyes closed as if remembering something fondly.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The door to the car popped open and a woman in a suit quickly exited. Her head snapped around to verify she was alone. It was Maiya, wearing Kiritsugu's trench coat. Saying it looked bad on her was actually far from the truth. It was strangely fitting on her frame. Searching through a few of the pockets, she eventually found a keyring in one of them and opened the main gate to the property. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon an hour ago. Darkness was settling in for the night and with it, a calming quiet. Miyama had the benefit of being a very peaceful district during the night. It was the complete opposite of the Shinto zone, where urban noise continually droned on. Cars and police sirens were replaced by wind and distant animal noises. The creaking hinges of the front gate added an unnatural tone to this choir. Maiya pushed her way into the yard and calmly moved to unlock the front door, only, it was already unlocked. It wasn't like Kiritsugu to forget something important like that, immediately Maiya was on edge. Reaching behind herself, she withdrew a simple Glock and quietly slid open the doorway.

Empty.

Maiya had always thought traditional Japanese buildings had a sort of calming elegance to them. Unilluminated in the dead of night rapidly changed that mood into eerie abandonment. The assassin squinted, slowly stepping into and down the hallway. Two doors sat along the left midway down the hall. At the end, it cut off towards the right. A light was shining somewhere around the corner, casting a dim glow on the ground. Doing her best to avoid making a single sound, the assassin crept forwards. She was thankful the floor was made of tile rather than wood. Wood would creak under her weight but the tile was too securely set to make any noise.

She pushed open each door with her pistol to verify that the small rooms were empty. Continuing down the hall, she rounded the corner with her weapon first. At the end of the hall was a small lamp. The shade was set up specifically to shine just far enough to reach the corner. Caster's master was making this too obvious. Nobody else would do anything this foolish and meticulous. Maiya turned her head around, surprised nobody was behind her.

The entrance hallway carried on after the initial corner. It terminated further down, but a left turn led deeper into the home. Hallways surrounded each room, connecting to each other only occasionally. It was common for one side of these hallways to be made of glass, leading out into the yard or a slight path between rooms. If one wasn't familiar with the layout of the house, it would be incredibly easy to get lost. Thankfully Maiya had memorized the blueprints of the house when it was first purchased.

Blueprints were slightly different than physically being within the property but it would be enough to get around. There were two large paper doors leading into the kitchen from this hallway. If she moved further north into the house, she would come to two larger rooms. On the East and West sides, were attached buildings designed for guest accommodations. If Maiya were to make an educated guess, Caster's master would be in the large shed within the backyard. It was the most secure place in the entire property while simultaneously being the best place to hide supplies. She would still secure the area by checking each room, however.

… … …

Ten minutes passed since she opened the front door. She secured both East and West sections and had just entered the second bedroom of the main building. This room, unlike the first, was more cluttered with trinkets and such. It had probably been the room the previous owner lived in. A small wardrobe with the doors open to reveal various outfits, an unmade futon, books of various genre and title strewn about the room along with an out of place armchair in one corner. Maiya ran a brief check around the room. There was nothing within this room either, which meant Limes was in the shed out ba-

"You know, usually it's the wife or girlfriend that gets to wear a guy's clothes." Came a condescending voice. Without hesitating, Maiya turned and fired two rounds at the noise. The flash illuminated the room and in that brief instance, she could see him. Caster's master was just sitting in the chair. He hadn't even moved when the rounds were fired. Upon lowering his arms, she realized what he had done. He had sat in the armchair and waited, holding the cloak to drape over his top-half. It concealed the glow of his mask and made him near invisible in the darkness. The two rounds from Maiya's pistol were flung off wildly to the sides, whizzing as the spinning bullets lodged in place.

"That's rude. You offer girls suggestions and how do they repay the favour? They try and kill you!" He huffed in fake insult. The man stood and fluidly slipped the cloak over his shoulders. "Where's Kiritsugu, girly?" He menaced, crimson mask adding to the ominous tone.

Maiya didn't even offer a response, running out of the room and into the hallway. She pointed her gun at the door, expecting the masked man to follow her. Two seconds of concentration went by before she was tapped on the shoulder.

"Are you deaf? Maybe cat's got your tongue?" Maiya snapped the gun up to her shoulder, gritting her teeth as she pulled the trigger. A loud ringing split through her head from the gunshot but the action proved successful. A pained noise from the man as the bullet sheared off a section of his mask was enough to tell her that much. A trickle of warmth flowed from her ear, she wouldn't be able to hear from that side for some time.

The assassin turned with her elbow, looking to strike the masked man in the head if he hadn't been smart enough to move away. He had, surprisingly, which left her to simply level her pistol for another shot. "Well if you weren't deaf before, you are now." He casually commented, holding his left forehead where the mask had been shattered. "Kiritsugu keeps coming up with new tricks. First the martial arts, then the rune-enchanted clothes and now rune-enchanted bullets. Putting extra speed and force into bullets was clever I'll give you that." He straightened and moved the hand away from his face. "But it still can't go through Caster's cloak."

She could hardly blink before he was already too close. His fist was already moving to strike while she was hardly moving her body. The blow struck under her ribs and the impact sent the woman flying out through the glass towards the backyard. Rolling in shards of glass, she gasped for breath, holding onto her side to try and dull the pain.

"Huh, you're more durable than I thought you'd be." He commented absently before looking down and making a noise. "What's this?" He asked in exaggerated surprise, crouching to retrieve the gun Maiya had dropped from the attack.

The assassin struggled to get up, propping her body upon her elbows before shakily standing. "I had Caster whip me up more gear that'd make Kiritsugu really have a run for his money. If I knew I'd have been facing one of his lackey's I would have just brought a gun." The man in the mask casually stepped down onto the grass. "I know, I know. I said I'd be a good boy and wait for him to come to me…" Maiya moved.

Limes caught a fist aimed for his face with one hand. "But it's good to keep people on their toes. That and Caster left me alone with nothing to do. He didn't even invite me to that damned banquet of his, bastard." His free hand snapped up around Maiya's neck, lifting her off the ground as if she were weightless. She gasped for air, clutched at his forearm and tried to dig her nails into his skin. She found that the cloak simply would not yield, so she tried something else.

"You weren't there, so you wouldn't know any of this but believe me, he was quite inconsiderate. And that damned Magus Killer." He growled, tightening his grip on her throat. "Who does he think I am? A simple mage he can just toss aside like all his other targets?" His tone grew angry, a hidden rage behind his words. "Why are you here instead of him you wordless bitch!" He shouted, gasping as a gunshot rang out through the night.

The masked man released the assassin and stumbled backwards, clutching at his abdomen. Maiya fell to the grass on her knees, sucking in lungfuls of air. In her hand, was a still smoking Thompson Contender.

The masked man looked down at himself as the cloak around his shoulders disintegrated. It was as if the material were ageing at an incredible rate. It flaked apart and disappeared in the wind. "Are you serious? He gave you his prized weapon!? What other tools did that idiot give to someone as useless as you?" He quiestioned, voice edged with barely contained fury. From this angle and with the damage to the mask - she could see his eyes. They were cold and dark like Kiritsugu's but without any heart. Within them, only evil and cruelty.

She had fired an Origin Round into him, but that cloak took the bullet and its effect in its entirety. At least she could actually hurt him now. With considerable effort, she stood, replaced the Contender and withdrew another weapon. Used during Kiritsugu's training with Maeve, it was an HK45. Naturally chambered in .45 ACP, the pistol was simple to use and incredibly accurate. Kiritsugu gifted it to her, but he himself had received it as a gift quite some time ago.

"Oh come on!" The masked man lamented, leaping backwards into the open door of the bedroom. During the action, his motions seemed to be assisted by the wind itself, accelerating his movements and propelling him further than normal. This was most likely how he was so fast and how a single punch had thrown her so far away.

Rather than try to shoot the man while he was moving, she waited and fired at the edges of the doorway when he entered the room. Six rounds, three in a well-spaced line near the door's edge and three further to the right as if she were leading a clay pigeon. With four bullets left in the magazine, she reloaded and retrained her weapon - storing the used magazine in a pocket just in case.

One thing Kiritsugu never told her was how damn heavy his coat was. It weighed twelve pounds in material alone but with the Contender, his pistols, the Calico and rounds for all, it was over fifty pounds. The Calico had been replaced with his training pistol, but the weight was near the same. She both didn't know how to use the weapon and preferred being more mobile with handguns.

She looked around herself, unsure of where he would come from next. The silence of the night seemed to become suffocating. "Hey girly, are you so focused on using guns because you can't fight any other way?" Limes spoke from somewhere within the building. Maiya focused on where it had come from, checking behind her as she remembered her initial mistake. Carefully, the woman moved back towards a building larger than the stone shed. It was an area devoted to martial arts training; a dojo of sorts. "I don't like talking to myself you know!" He shouted again from somewhere else within the building. Nothing came out to surprise her along the path to the door. When she tried to open it, she found it locked.

"Come on, you wreck my cloak and now you're not even going to kill me properly?" Limes continued taunting. Something stirred to the right in the corner of her eye. She fired her gun on instinct, putting two rounds into whatever had moved.

A blanket... It was a blanket?

While realizing her mistake, the assassin snapped both arms in front of her face. A kick aimed to take her head off her shoulders collided with her forearms. The force behind the strike should have broken both her arms but Kiritsugu's coat dispersed the impact. Her time training under Kiritsugu had meant she learned martial arts through experience just as he had. It was far from anything rigorous or formal, but like the man she served under, she learned to predict attacks as well as how to make an opponent become predictable without even noticing. Maiya moved with the blow, stepping back and dropping her guard over her left side. As expected, the masked man aimed another kick to that side.

Rather than try to block or parry his leg, Maiya turned her body to put Kiritsugu's coat in-between. Just as it had done a moment ago, it turned an attack which would have surely broken bones or killed her into something that would only cause bruises. Not expecting such a seemingly suicidal move, the masked man sucked in a sharp breath. Or maybe his surprise came from the pistol nearing his face.

He tried to twist out of the firing path but couldn't fully escape before the gun went off. The bullet pierced his left shoulder and carried on with a visceral crunch. The enchanted bullet fragmented but due to the nature of the enchantment, each fragmentation carried on through the bone and out the other side. Limes' arm was destroyed. The two separated, and as Maiya tried to re-train her weapon, a kick collided with her hand and it was sent flying off to the right. Instead of being surprised, Maiya pulled her right arm up to hook Limes' leg. She pulled him forward into her, roughly slamming her bare fist into the side of his head.

While she wasn't enchanted or magical in any way, neither was Limes without Caster's cloak. The strike and odd position of his legs toppled the man directly onto his demolished shoulder. Grunting in pain, he kicked out of her hold and rolled away. The wind seemed to assist his recovery into a standing position. Rather than let him make the first strike, Maiya moved to finish what she started. She stopped short, feinting a punch which followed into a low kick. Her attack went through, however instead of him losing his footing, his legs snapped shut on her foot when it struck his thigh. In that brief instance of stillness when he trapped her leg, both participants knew the fight had effectively ended. Limes' right elbow reared back to strike at Maiya's knee. The bones shattered and snapped but still the assassin hardly made a sound. Following her down as she fell backwards, the masked man nailed his fist into her chest. He straightened and moved his leg near her side, lifting the other to stomp on her face.

Rather than let it happen. Maiya twisted her body to strike him right where it hurt - between the legs. Like a sack of rocks dropped off a cliff, he collapsed on the ground but he never once stopped fighting. They were both skilled in combat, but he held the advantage with weight and height. She tried to grapple the man and keep him down but he was simply stronger than her. He used his legs and the one good arm to twist the assassin around and line her up into an armbar. Pulling back on her wrist while forcing her away with a foot to her back, he dislocated her shoulder with a loud pop.

"Looks like we're both out of an arm. If only w-" He interrupted himself with a shout of pain. Sticking out of the side of his torso was the handle of a knife. Maiya had deposited it while he was focused on talking. With the release of pressure on her arm, she slammed the palm of her good arm into the masked man's chest so she could slide out of his grip. Her body turned on the ground and her legs kicked him away to put some distance between them. Leaving the knife embedded in his side, Limes stood and glowered at the assassin.

"That's enough. I thought you were a simple human, someone who could be taken out easily. I see now that you're actually a threat. There's no need for me to hold back any longer." Limes commented. Maiya had hardly even listened. She had taken hold of another Origin Round and was reaching for the Contender within Kiritsugu's coat. With the sound of rushing air, he moved and was upon her. She hardly managed to duck under a punch but neglected to account for the follow-up strike. He dropped his elbow onto her shoulder and was forced to her knees. She tried to stand and recover but found the man holding her down with his weight. In the next moment, she was kicked in the chest and sent backwards onto the overgrown grass. Her core ached with pain, but stubbornly she tried to rise. She would have as well, had Limes not forced her back down with a stomp

"Uh-uh, no more tricks and bullshit." He chastised with a wiggle of his finger. As casually as one might sit down in a chair, he plopped his weight onto her stomach. The pressure made it hard to breathe and her vision became clouded with stars after he hooked her across the face. She reached up, trying to jam her fingers in the hole of his bad shoulder but she was batted away.

"You destroy my cloak, you make me look like a fool, you keep getting up again and again." He shook his mask-clad face. "You get to die now." Another strike to the head. Maiya found it hard to focus. Just as she thought she had regained herself, another blow stripped her of complex thought. His strikes were so spaced because he was only using one arm. If he had both, she would have probably gotten pummeled at this point. The blows continued. Through them all, Limes never screamed or shouted a cry of effort. The silence broken by gradually wettening thumps was almost more disturbing than if he were screaming bloody murder. She lost consciousness on the ninth strike. Knowing she was unconscious did not stop Limes from beating her. He continued striking more than two dozen times. Blood covered his arm and body but it was unclear whose blood it was. The face he had been speaking to mere moments ago was a bloodied mess. The same could be said for his knuckles. He was sure that several bones in his hands were broken, but he didn't care. With a collected cycle of breaths, he stood from the limp body.

"You know, if you had been a mage, you might have actually beat me." He turned, pausing as if listening to a voice from the deformed mess behind him. "Yeah, you're right. If I had just taken you seriously, to begin with, I wouldn't be having such a hard time." The man reached up to take off his mask, taking longer than it usually would due to him only having one arm. "Even if you weren't a mage." He paused, wiping the mask clumsily on his vest. "Enchanting your knife might have done the trick." He grunted, glancing down toward the blade still lodged in his side. "Oh well, you know what they say don't ya?" He paused, waiting for the silent voice to respond.

"Life's a bitch."

Limes turned, bewildered that someone had actually responded. His eyes met the barrel of Kiritsugu's Contender and in that instance, before the trigger was pulled, his mind ran through a thousand possible actions.

He settled on one. With a flash of crimson light, the space directly between Maiya and Limes distorted and the still sitting form of Caster appeared. On the servant's left, his master, the right, the downed form of Maiya. The trigger had already been pulled, and an Origin Round struck the side of Caster's cloak before anyone could react. Just as it had when Limes had been shot, the cloak flaked apart and blew away with a gust of wind. Caster had been teleported a few feet off the ground, enough so that his head was level with his master's. This meant he fell to the ground shortly after appearing and being shot. Upon grounding, he twitched. The flakes of his cloak exploded into blue bunches of sparks as they flew away.

There was silence. All three members remained where they were and tried to rationalize what just happened. Maiya's face had almost fully recovered, as had her knee. The former was battered, bruised and swollen but the cuts had knit themselves together with what looked like magical thread. Her knee was setting itself and repairing the splintered bone

"So that's why I felt a strong tingle during the banquet." Caster commented casually. Underneath that black cloak had been, unsurprisingly, another layer of concealment. Unlike the fine coordinated material of the last covering, this layer was more disjointed and hastily created. He looked more like a bloodied mummy than a powerful servant. Crimson wrappings, like bandages, were wound around his entire body. Maiya couldn't see beneath this layer, but she was sure there was armour underneath as the variance in width was too strange to be a bodily deformation. Even the servant's head was wrapped up tightly. She thought she could see hair beneath but with the blending of colours, she wasn't sure whether Caster's hair was red, blond, white or even black. Or perhaps the colours came from her recovering head wound.

"What are you doing you dumbass, make us another pair of cloaks!" Limes shouted. At some point, he had replaced the damaged mask on his face.

Caster remained silent for a moment, sitting cross-legged on the ground. "I can't." He stated simply. "I don't remember how. Why do I not remember how?" He looked towards his master, then at Maiya. Upon seeing the Contender the pieces seemed to click into place. "I see. That explains one question I've had at least." There was a brief pause as Caster stood up. "How strange. Master, we're leaving."

"Are you kidding me? This bitch blows out my shoulder and stabs me in the side and you act like a punted dog? Kill her, kill her right now!" He demanded. Caster turned to face Maiya, who was still confused and trying to recover cognitive thought after all the blows delivered to her head.

"There is no need. She is not important in our plans and her life will serve purpose later." Caster spoke as if he knew something important. He turned to face his master, extending a hand to touch the broken mask. Upon contact, the material seemed to expand and grow to return to its fully repaired state. "I had not intended to be anywhere besides the Einzbern castle tonight. If we do not return to my workshop soon, I cannot guarantee it will still be there."

"Tsk - Fine. Count your blessings and pray I don't see you again because if I do..." The masked man menaced while pointing at the assassin with his good hand. When he trailed off, the thumb from that same hand went up to run across his own neck.

Caster didn't say another word, but he did roughly yank the knife out of his master's side and lift the man off his feet. Limes' howl of pain and curses trailed on through the night as he was carried away by his servant.

Maiya dropped the Contender on the ground and tried to regain her breath. What the hell just happened? Kiritsugu would be upset that she hadn't caught a good look at Caster's master but would be happy to hear that neither of the two had access to those cloaks. She stared up at the starry night sky. The cool air breezing across her hot skin and sore body relieved her some. It made the swelling of her face die down as well. Her eyes closed and her mind flickered back to the Castle when she was leaving.

… … …

… … …

"Caster's master is a powerful man. I couldn't tell if he was a mage or not, but he was able to keep up with me without breaking a sweat. With your experience, you might be able to keep up to him."

"Might? Sir, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to be prepared. If you aren't unexpectedly skilled, you'll lose." Kiritsugu took off his coat and moved behind his apprentice assassin. Reflexively, she lifted her arms to put it on before turning to look at him.

"Sir?"

"You have my Contender and four Origin Rounds. Three in the left side interior, one in the chamber. If you're going to use it, make sure they hit. Magazines for the pistol I've given you are in the right side. This coat is magically enchanted to mitigate impacts while being incredibly durable. Bullets will only give you bruises, punches shouldn't hurt very much unless they're considerably strong. You have to be careful, however, since the force can still launch you." Kiritsugu moved to her front, tugging at his own coat's collar to adjust it on Maiya's frame.

"Sir, stop." She coldly spoke, lifting Kiritsugu's hands from her. "I'll succeed in eliminating the target." She responded, surprising her mentor. He chuckled to diffuse his nerves, then refocused on her when she took hold of his chin. "Use your tools to the best of your ability, do not consider their feelings - only their actions."

Kiritsugu nodded and took a step away. He inhaled deeply to steel himself. "You're right." He accepted, stepping back. "But in order for me to use my tools correctly, they have to be in peak condition." The Magus Killer placed an open hand on his chest, slowly pulling it away. Maiya was shocked. A gold and royal blue scabbard was exiting his chest. In a second, its full glory was hovering above his own hand. A radiance of light gently bathed the two of them. It was a magnificent, gorgeous sheath.

"Avalon - You can't!" Maiya objected, getting a shush from Kiritsugu.

"Avalon won't work without Saber in its proximity. But I've found its healing effect can be toggled if you concentrate on it within you. Using it this way, you can have one use of its power. If you die or get knocked out, it will bring you back. If you're too wounded to continue fighting, focus on Avalon to heal your wounds. Put everything you have into killing Caster's master and when that's not enough, Avalon will let you try once more."

Maiya was speechless. Even as Kiritsugu pushed Avalon into her body, she couldn't find words to express her emotions. Kiritsugu himself must have taken notice of this. After turning and walking away, he spoke:

"Go, I'll see you in a few hours."

… … …

… … …

… … …

… … …

Her throat and mouth were incredibly parched. She felt weightless and a quick glance revealed Kiritsugu was carrying her to a bed. How long had she been unconscious? The bed was warm at least, and the water which somehow found its way into her mouth was a welcome feature.

Was this what it was like to have someone care for you? She had to admit that it was kind of… Nice. Kiritsugu had been the only one who cared for her through her entire life, she owed that life in service to him for saving her - it was all she could provide and all she would provide.

Saber entered the room, and the pain in her body rapidly eased. Drearily she looked between the two of them. Even half-conscious it was plain to tell they were polar opposites. One was a radiant figurehead of royalty and leadership, honour and chivalry. The other was the embodiment of deception, efficiency and blind scales. Perhaps opposites attracted? No, of course not. There was a limit to how opposed something could be before attraction turned to repulsion. She could see in both of their eyes that they were only working together to achieve a common goal.

Kiritsugu spoke and Saber exited the room. When they were alone, Kiritsugu took Maiya's hand and squeezed tightly. She was alive, he was so grateful for that. In her delirium, Maiya said something but her brain couldn't recognize even her own words. The syllables seemed disjointed and words became incoherent noise. He seemed to understand though if the change in his face indicated anything. Whatever she said, she hoped it helped him somehow.

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 **REALLY dialogue-heavy chapter. Insight to the changed on the characters and knowledge on just how much Caster knows. If you can't start to tell who he is now... You should do some studying! At some point in the future, I'm going to be compiling a list of changes made in this world as compared to the Fate already known. It will most likely be at the end of the Fate Zero arc - during a break where I compile my thoughts, take a rest from writing and try to work out what I want to write.**

 **I only got a couple of reviews, which means my pickings for who to feature is rather limited (Write more reviews damn it!) but it's a good way to communicate with reviewers. A guest predicted that Caster is Gil-Caster, which is actually a rather good guess. I'm not saying whether they are correct or not, but after reading this chapter their opinion may have changed greatly.**

 **Write reviews, favorite and follow if you liked it! Hopefully I get the next one out soonish.**


	6. Time is a Two-Way Street

**EDIT: My body and my mind are both ready for this next chapter. Despite not knowing as much about Fate/Zero as I do Fate/stay night, this was still one of my favourite chapters to edit due to the fact that we're almost done with Zero.**

 **Very late addition compared to my earlier posts. This is a combination of school, writer's block, no free time and stress. But it's here now! I've got some news about the story and its progress which will be in the post section. Enjoy!**

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Maiya would live, that was the important takeaway. Avalon was an incredible relic. Healing cuts and mortal wounds almost as if rewinding time. As with all things, such great power had great drawbacks. The primary downside was that it wouldn't actualize its effect without mana supplied directly from Saber. Another fault was that Avalon wouldn't regenerate lost limbs or heal what Kiritsugu liked to call: _Trauma wounds._ Bruises, sore muscles, arthritis, disfigurement, mental afflictions and concussions were all looked over by the healing effect. Maiya had three of these injuries but the concussion was most pressing. It was almost as if she was hit by a truck - repeatedly. She would be out of the fight for a day at least before she tried to jump back into combat out of sheer stubbornness.

She would heal. She just needed time, there was nothing else anyone could do. While Avalon couldn't heal simple bruises, Irisviel could. Maiya would be without pain at the very least. Caster and his master had become the primary threat. The Magus Killer threw on his trench coat and verified everything was in place. He counted while sliding the Origin Rounds into slots sewn in his jacket. He had eight rounds remaining on hand. One had been lost at Ryuudou Temple, two had been used by Maiya and another had been used by himself last night.

Before he returned to find Maiya, quite the scenario had taken place at the Einzbern Castle. Kiritsugu's mind moved to the events of last night but he was distracted upon finding a pack of cigarettes in a lesser used pocket of his coat. He looked the box over, fingers twitching as they flipped the top open to reveal eight cancer sticks. His eyes flickered over each filtered end. With mind and body screaming at him to indulge, his fingers flickered over the butt of a cigarette.

Illya filled his mind, her bright face and beautiful hair. Her coughing while entering his office. The poor girl he had left thousands of miles away, alone, with a monster in the form of a human. His hand clenched around the cigarette packet and with a growl of anger he sent it flying in a random direction. Running a hand through his dishevelled hair, he tried to control his emotions through controlled breathing. Every time he tried to refocus, his mind flickered back to the innocent little girl he had abandoned. Anger clouded his eyes, anger directed solely at himself. He had abandoned his own daughter, the Grail was a sham and it was inevitable that Irisviel would die creating a vessel of pure corruption. He couldn't even save the world or save his daughter anymore. What kind of man was he?

Kiritsugu paced around the backyard with hands on his hips, lips twitching from the thought of failure bouncing around his head. Both eyes were shut tight and his breathing was laboured with rage. When he neared the stone storehouse in his aimless pacing, he shouted and violently slammed a gloved fist into the solid wall. Rather than break his own hand, cracks splintered and spread throughout the entire surface of the stone wall from the bottom to the top.

Everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed, had been in vain. Everything he would do would accomplish nothing in the end. He couldn't save innocent people, he couldn't save his wife, he couldn't save Illya. He was a miserable failure. The dull throbbing in his fist detracted from the ache within his chest and head. He felt nauseous and cornered.

So what was he to do now? There was no way he could go back to Germany and retrieve Illya from Acht. Continuing to fight in the war would grant him a curse. Was this precisely what Caster's master had intended? Had this been a subtle plot to destroy him from the inside out using his own mind as a weapon? Kiritsugu wanted to puke, but willpower allowed him to force the feeling down. Caster had revealed himself to be a wise man as well as someone who knew more than he led on. Perhaps he would hold answers to the questions floating through his mind. Caster had seemingly been an honest man, would seeking him out be a wise decision? This Grail war had been a wake-up call for Kiritsugu from the very start. First, he had been shown through a dream that his skills weren't enough. He was forced to seek outside help for training. Now, he was forced to seek answers from someone who… Kiritsugu's mind ground to a halt.

From someone who _knew him better than he knew himself_. Not that psychopath Limes, but Caster. The two worked hand-in-hand but it was easy to see that Caster was supplying his master with information. Kiritsugu turned to carry out the still brewing plan but stopped upon seeing Irisviel right behind him.

"Kiritsugu, your hand." She whispered softly, skin paler than usual. Not actually noticing until now, Kiritsugu peered down to where his wife's eyes were examining. Blood trickled from the sleeve of his glove. From experience, he could tell that three knuckles were shattered. Irisviel took his hand and covered it with her own pair. She closed her eyes and a green light flashed between her hands. With some discomfort, the bones shifted and rebonded in their correct positions all while the cuts in his flesh knit together. "What has gotten you so upset?" She asked in a hushed tone, peering into his eyes with a weak smirk.

"Nothing..." He passed off, looking away from her eyes. He was ashamed at his outburst. "How are you feeling?" He asked, trying to avoid the subject altogether.

"The Grail's call to me is much stronger now. With each servant, I can feel my strength and energy fading." She paused, looking down at their covered hands. Irisviel ran her fingers along the back of Kiritsugu's, tracing the bones. "Two more and I may lose my ability to function." She chuckled sadly, surprised when she was embraced by her husband.

"I'm sorry." Was all he said, squeezing her tight before moving away. He didn't dare look back as he left. Such was for both their sakes. They were teetering on the emotional edge and another weight on their mind would be the proverbial straw upon the camel's back.

Saber was leaning against an open door of one of the smaller rooms in the entrance hall. She watched her master walk by and put on his shoes. "One more servant down, master. Lady Irisviel and I will await your orders." She stated with closed eyes. He nodded towards her in acknowledgement, exiting the mansion and reflecting on the banquet last night.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Kiritsugu had almost fallen asleep. Irisviel and Waver actually had. Rider and Saber emptied both vessels of alcohol and were chatting like old friends. They had spoken of their lives, their goals, their regrets. Spoke at length of what it meant to be king which sparked insults and a fight. Saber had won easily and to save face - Rider challenged the petite girl to an arm wrestling competition. Saber gleefully accepted and proceeded to roll the servant over himself - three times. Size did not dictate strength as it would seem. Saber's fighting prowess hardly seemed dulled by the alcohol. It was as if she were still sober.

Kiritsugu himself was nodding off, but a new voice shook the sleepiness away. "How infuriating! Saber, your master attempts at my life twice through underhanded means and you simply drink and parlay in celebration?" Came an echoing voice. It was easily recognizable as Kayneth El-Melloi. The servants casually looked up to the roof of the castle surrounding the courtyard. It would seem they wouldn't need to bother, as Lancer leapt from the roof to land within the courtyard some distance away from Saber and Rider.

"Saber." Lancer greeted, scowling. By the look on his face and the positioning of his body, he did not agree with his master's order to interrupt a banquet of kings. What Lancer was doing at that moment was equivalent to interrupting a royal ball and denouncing the residing king. It went against his very nature as an honor-bound knight.

"Lancer." Saber returned the greeting with a nod, glancing towards Rider who was watching curiously with a smile. If Saber were to make a guess, she would say it was near two in the morning. Lancer's master had most likely waited so long to try and catch them while they were sleeping.

"My master has instructed me to engage in battle tonight. I wish to resume our duel, but with another servant present I may find my wishes denied." Lancer's hands clenched tight around his twin spears.

Rider only laughed with red cheeks. "If you wish to fight Lancer then by all means. I will not intervene in a duel between two knights. I understand the importance of knightly code, even if your master does not." The redhead giant shuffled while sitting along the ground to distance himself from the fight.

Lancer's face and body seemed to relax. "You have my thanks…" He led on, waiting for the other servant to fill in the blank. Rider obliged with enthusiasm. ".. King of Conquerors." The spearman repeated, nodding gratefully towards Rider.

Saber stood, albeit shakily due to the drink and the long period of sitting on her knees. "Lancer, you are an honourable knight. Had you been alive during my time without a liege, I would have invited you to my court. As circumstances are..." She bashed a gauntlet against her chest to make a clang, moving to grasp her sword tightly. The two duelists strode forwards with weapons primed. With two paces between them, they raised their weapons to touch together halfway. "...A duel will have to suffice." The clang of steel on steel acted as a starting bell. In an instant, weapons were swung, deflected, parried and ground against each other. Sparks, weapons and bodies - along with their attached limbs - moved across the courtyard in a beautiful dance of death.

Kiritsugu could barely understand what was happening. Lancer and Saber were conducting attacks and moving around one another at a speed his eyes could hardly register. Servants were truly amazing to observe. It was a shame he couldn't stay and watch any longer.

Both he and Saber had a job to do, his was just more convoluted. An explosion down the hall in the direction he was already moving informed him that it would be easier than expected. "Einzbern!" Came a shout. Kiristugu moved to hide behind a corner. Through natural reaction, the Magus Killer reached to his left ribs, hand grasping air. He realized unfortunately that he had given most of his supplies to Maiya. This assassination would have to be done the old fashioned way - if it could even be pulled off at all.

Kiritsugu reached behind himself to pull the sling on his shoulder around to his front. Mounted on the sling was his Calico. Kiritsugu took a second to remove clasps holding the leather to the gun. He would probably need all the mobility he could muster. El-Melloi was an incredibly skilled mage and if he was smart, that autonomous metal blob would be alongside him. If it could render .300 Win mag less than fatal, no other bullet in his arsenal could deal a killing blow. It would seem that he would have to simply hold out and try to survive while letting Saber deal with Lancer. Then she could deal with Kayneth.

There was a noise, a light creaking, and it saved Kiritsugu's life. He rolled to the side just before an explosion of stone and splinters showered the interior of the hall right where he was standing. Looking back from the ground, he found tendrils of metal had shot directly through the wall. He could have sworn the tips of them were pointed directly at him.

In his movement away, the tablecloth he had used to hide from the other servants had been discarded and destroyed by the scatter of debris. He could no longer hide from anyone.

"Of course you would be hiding. Unfortunately for you, you can't run or hide from Volumen Hydrargyrum, Einzbern." Came the pompous voice of Kayneth. The metal tendrils retracted while Kiritsugu stood up. In a couple of seconds, Kayneth and his construct slid around the corner.

"You must be the one who gave me such a nice scar." He commented, patting the side of his chest gently. "It takes more than mere bullets to kill a mage as grand as myself." He scoffed, glaring at the man as he lifted up the Calico. A volley of bullets flew out, intercepted by the ball of metal which shapeshifted into a thin wall. This ball of metal was how he had survived the night at the docks. It hadn't fully blocked the round but it defended well enough to turn a killing blow into a wounding strike. Kiritsugu had to think fast. Backstepping down the hall while maintaining a suppressive burst, his mind stewed. He had a limited number of bullets on him - whatever was left in this mag specifically - and had no way to actually fire the Origin Rounds he had on him. He hadn't given Maiya his supplies of course. She had four, he had seven. Even if Maiya perished and Limes took his Contender, anything that could chamber 30-06 Springfield would work. Come to think of it, did the bullet even need to be _fired_ to actualize its concept?

He slipped into a room, slamming the door shut and barricading it with a tipped over bookshelf. The furniture wouldn't stop that damned automaton but it would delay the mage by a second. If his plan were to work, mere seconds would be the difference between success and defeat.

Turning, he spotted two other exits. One lead further into the castle, the obvious choice and the other lead towards where Kiritsugu had been watching the banquet from. Rather than take the expected way, he pushed the door open and moved through the other exit. As he silently closed the door behind him, he could hear the sound of splintering wood from around the corner. Rather than try and ambush the mage with a strike from behind, the Magus Killer took off running the opposite direction. Why hadn't he inscribed runes in his shoes to make him run faster? Still, he had ways to move at greater speeds. Delving back to his initial endeavours into magecraft, he reinforced the muscles of his legs and doubled his sprinting speed.

When he reached the other side of the castle and believed he was reasonably safe, he carefully took out an Origin Round from his pants and moved with it towards a night table. He carelessly swiped away all the clutter on top and delicately placed the bullet horizontally on the table. From another pocket of his pants, he withdrew a small instrument. It was similar to a dentists pick, a simple metal rod with a ninety-degree bend at one end sharpened to a point. The difference was in that point specifically. Rather than just plain metal, the tip was glowing blue.

All his time in runic training he had taken longer than normal to scribe. This time would have to be different. It couldn't be anything less than perfect and had to be done in half the time he expected it to take. The blue tip settled onto the surface of the brass casing. The magic within the instrument and the innate magic of the round conflicted, sparking bright blue as if he were welding. This would be the time where his knowledge of anti runes came in. Anti runes were normal runes only drawn opposite to the typical inscribing. Doing this reversed the usual benefit of each letter. Gain became loss, life became death, protection became flaw. Sometimes, runes gained other meanings when turned into anti runes. _Raido_ , which typically stood for travel or relocation became crisis or death. It was something he would use right now.

On the casing of the bullet, Kiritsugu skillfully wrote two separate strings of runes, binding them to one another to generate a stronger effect. As he applied the last finishing touches, a string of metal drooped down into his vision. Spotted, his time was up. Picking up and gripping the bullet tightly, he turned towards the door and waited for it to explode open. In a few brief seconds, it did just that. Stepping over the pile of rubble, Kayneth entered the room looking angrier than usual.

"Have you decided to finish this game of cat and mouse?" He had entered the room scowling and with shut eyes. Upon realizing a new magical presence, his eyes shot open and his face cut into confusion. "What is that in your hand there? Where have you found an artifact of such power?" There was venom in his tone.

Kiritsugu had supplied mana to the bullet, both the inscribed runes and the round itself were near the point of exploding violently with mana. Thankfully his handiwork had paid off. Kayneth would be under the impression that what Kiritsugu held in his grasp was of a power never before seen. The aura would fill the room and be as thick as mud, carrying with it a feeling of pure evil.

"I doubt you have heard of a tool of mine called _The Heart of Darkness_." Kiritsugu began, uncharacteristically speaking to an enemy in combat. "It's a device I've used in my career to end every mage I've ever faced. Its power is so great, that the unsuspecting fools fell time and time again. They were all unable to stop it, as they hadn't even acknowledged its true power. How will you react to such a force?" Kiritsugu asked as a bead of sweat dripped down his back. Every word he spoke was being pulled directly from his ass. He was half praying and half hoping that Kayneth would be too dull and arrogant to see his weaknesses being played so blatantly. If Kiritsugu could only make him put all his effort into defending from the "relic" this fight would be simple. Even _half_ his full effort would be enough.

"I've looked into your history, Magus Killer. There was never any mention of this _Heart of Darkness_." Kayneth pointed out. He was obviously skeptical of his own information if the lack of attack was anything to go off of. Unfortunately, it seemed that Kayneth was marginally smarter than expected. So instead of being on the level of mud, he was on par with an average potted house plant.

"Something cannot be written down if it is never seen before death." Kiritsugu countered. The two stared through one another intensely for a moment, before the more magically inclined of the two made a noise of contempt.

"Fair enough. Do your worst, I have no doubts Volumen Hydrargyrum will repel any attack a third-rate mage like you can manage." The mage pompously huffed. The surface of the metal ball seemed to bristle in response.

"Then prepare, as this shall be something even your servant fears." Kiritsugu menaced, throwing the bullet like a softball while applying even more mana to its construction. Any bump or jarring - even physical contact - would make the round explode violently. The blob of metal moved to intercept, making lattices and complex impact dampening designs as it curled around the projectile. It was all over from there.

Unfortunately for both master and servant, Saber had concluded her duel in the same moment. A slight upper hand in combat coupled with the brief hesitation after receiving the distress call of his master put Lancer at the mercy of Saber's blade. With a cry and a quick thrust, it found home in Lancer's stomach, running him through to the hilt.

The surprise from his master's defeat and the fall of his own defeat clouded his mind. He could no longer speak. When the final surprise - his master's death - struck him, he could only smile and thank Saber for the fight. Smoke from the barrel of the Calico steamed into the air, much like Lancer's body began to do when their contract was severed.

… … ...

… … …

… … …

Of course, the parts regarding Lancer were relayed to him through Saber so the specifics on what was said or what truly happened was uncertain. He had reflected on the encounter multiple times in his head. It almost seemed too easy, perhaps it was because Kiritsugu's skills had become so versatile with runes. Thinking back, if he hadn't gotten Maeve to train him, if he had leapt into the Grail War without any new skills, he would have surely died to El-Melloi - if he had even survived against Limes that is.

The steps to Ryuudou Temple were the same as they were yesterday. This was far from unexpected, however. Just like yesterday, the main grounds were deathly still and seemed unnaturally void of life. Standing awkwardly in the center of the path, Kiritsugu awaited the appearance of his supposed rival.

It took a minute, but the man appeared from the main temple, striding down the path confidently. Something was different. He wasn't wearing the cloak which had caused him such trouble during their first encounter. To replace it, he wore form-fitting body armour of a design Kiritsugu had never seen. Caster had most likely been the creator. "Already you've decided to try your hand again? Is it because I hurt your little girly-friend?" He asked, clasping his hands behind his back and teetering on his heels. "They usually advise a man to keep his wife and mistress apart you know. Apparently, things can get nasty if they know of one another."

"I've come to see Caster." Kiritsugu interrupted, managing to catch Limes off guard.

"I don't think you get to make demands here. Whether you want to or not, you've come to fight me." While speaking, Caster materialized behind his master and calmly moved to stand beside him. Caster and his master could no longer be called twins. A thin crimson cloak draped the servant now. Unlike the black cloak from before, this article did not produce any magical signature and seemed rather plain.

"You wish to speak to me? I had thought you would have found all your answers watching our banquet last night." Caster seemed just as confused as his master, who was staring at their servant like they had grown a second head. "Since you're here, I might as well see what sort of questions you're asking. If I will answer them is to be determined." Caster nodded.

"Alone." The two masked men shared a glance. The one in body armour gently spread his arms.

"Come on man, even you're going to make me leave?" Limes asked, getting silence from his servant. "Fine, I'll let you two have a tea party." He grumbled, sulking off to the main temple building.

"I've done as you've asked and shown you respect, I hope you will respect me if I decide I am unable to answer your questions." Caster stated when they were alone, crossing his arms beneath the crimson cloak.

"You know more about this War than anyone else, why is that?" Kiritsugu snapped out, eyes cold as steel.

"I refuse to answer the question as it may lead to unsavoury circumstances." Caster shot back just as quick.

"How much of this War _do_ you know?"

"From beginning to end, albeit from a single perspective - more or less." He shrugged.

"Who claims the Grail?"

"Next." Caster looked off to the side.

"What is the identity of your master?"

"Ah - That one is locked under command seal. I would have told you were it not." Caster nodded with a chuckle.

"Your master has claimed to know me more than I know myself, where does this knowledge originate?"

"My master has extensive knowledge of you gathered on his own time before the war. I simply elaborated and provided extended details from my own knowledge."

"How am I to defeat Archer?"

Caster chuckled. " _You_ don't. If he's stupid enough to try coming after me, I will. There is no certifiable way to defeat the King of Heroes, nothing is for sure. His death comes from sheer luck and circumstance. Unfortunately for you, you're rather lacking in luck."

"What are your true intentions?"

"Dismantle the Grail and halt all future Wars. Although I won't be able to accomplish that in _this_ war, unfortunately. So I'll settle for... " He paused, considering how to word his thoughts. "Setting up the dominoes for the next person." He settled on.

"Why are you answering my questions so readily?" The question came as a surprise, as the servant made a curious noise while tilting his head.

"Quite a loaded question. I'd have to say…" He hummed, lifting a hand from beneath his cloak to perch against the chin of his mask. "I'm interested in the results of this war should the scales be weighted. You and Kirei Kotomine are undeniably the most formidable and powerful masters to fight in the Grail War. As you've already taken the latter out of the picture I'm left with no choice but to assist you. So - in essence - I'm helping you as best I can without making things too easy."

"You would have aided Kirei Kotomine in his quest for the Grail were he still alive?"

"Would? I had. That explosion of yours caught more than Assassin and their master. Unlike the servant of shadows, however, my master did not perish in the blast. At the time, Kirei was planning on finding and killing you first. Ironic don't you think? I told him where you were and was going to sit back and watch. But then…" Caster casually commented, using his hands to mimic an explosion. "And now Risei wants your hide."

Kiritsugu grit his teeth. There was no point getting angry at the servant for what had been done. He was helping now, that was all that mattered. "Did you learn anything from Kirei?" He decided on asking, slipping further into a rabbit hole.

Caster nodded. "Extensive knowledge. Kirei was working alongside Tokiomi Tohsaka and more importantly - their servant. You must be familiar with Archer, the King of Kings? Apparently, the servant had taken an interest in the man and wished to make him indulge the emptiness within him. If I were to hypothesis the result, Kirei would become a psychopath played like a puppet by Archer. Tokiomi would be backstabbed, Kariya would be manipulated somehow into suicide and you would perish in a duel to the death against someone significantly better than you in ways of combat." Caster summarised, confirming Kiritsugu's initial dream. This servant was leaving something out, the Magus Killer took a

second to think out his next question.

"In your life, were you a competitor in this War?" He asked, and silence was his answer.

"I refuse." Caster settled on.

"So you were?"

"I have neither confirmed nor denied."

"Your hesitation can be taken as a confirmation, you had to think of the answer." Kiritsugu pointed out.

"Untrue, I merely had to think of the exact meaning behind your question and respond accordingly." Caster clarified.

More silence as the Magus Killer glared accusingly at the servant. "Moving on then. As a Caster, what realm of magecraft are you most proficient in?"

"I refuse."

"Does your Noble Phantasm manipulate or utilize dreams in any way?"

Caster paused again. "No. If you're having bad dreams, blame Saber for that."

"Saber wouldn't have affected my dreams four years ago."

"That is a good point. Perhaps you are a dormant seer and your power has finally been realized." There was silence, neither of them were believing that lie. "To be fair I don't have a justifiable answer to that one."

"Then we carry on, what is your true name?"

"The answer would cause a terrible chain reaction of events, I refuse."

"Do you plan on killing me or the other masters?"

Caster snorted. "Someone like you asking a question like that?" He shook his head. "Believe it or not, I do not have any explicit plans on killing you. If I had, you'd most likely be dead - but you already knew that. The only reason I have for killing is if someone gets in the way of my goal."

"Explain the corruption of the Grail." Kiritsugu popped.

"Angra Mainyu, the Einzbern Avenger from the last war, has rooted himself to the very core of the Grail and is using it as a womb. With the Grail's appearance, his appearance is actualized. With the Grail's completion via supplementation of a wish, he will be born. He comes from a Zoroastrian religious ritual which randomly chooses an individual to bear all the sins of a tribe. This person is sacrificed and hailed as the god of darkness, someone to be despised and blamed for all hardship. This individual is forced to take on the name Angra Mainyu during their public execution. Angra Mainyu can be loosely translated to mean _All the World's Evil._ "

Kiritsugu paused, taking a large breath before continuing. "Why should I continue to fight if the Grail cannot grant my wish?"

Caster tilted his head, slightly stunned by the question. "Your entire life has been hopeless, one more hopeless scenario is enough to render the mighty Magus Killer an indecisive mess?"

Kiritsugu couldn't even respond. His throat closed up. He was right, about the hopeless scenario bit. After all the sacrifice, all the heartache, the sheer bad luck, this was how he would be repaid: With an inability to save a single soul.

"It's alright, you don't have to respond. Believe it or not, I understand precisely how you feel." Caster nodded, dropping his head slightly. "The world never was fair. I've learned through experience as you have." They had a moment of silence, respecting their individual losses. "You understand what you must do, don't you?"

"Continue fighting in the War so I can destroy the Grail and prevent Angra Mainyu from being born," Kiritsugu responded without hesitation. "If I can't save anyone with a wish, I'll prevent casualties."

Caster was silent for another few moments. "Do what you believe to be the correct course of action." The servant seemed to speak with a tone of resignation. "Understand that your actions will have consequences." Caster turned and began to walk slowly towards the main temple building.

"You know, don't you? You know what happens if the Grail is destroyed." Kiritsugu realized, growing angry as the servant continued walking.

"You, too, already know what happens, Kiritsugu. You need only realize this to understand." Caster replied over his shoulder, body dematerializing into smoke.

Kiritsugu stood with clenched hands for a good while, eventually, he turned and walked towards the stairs with a 'tsk'. This mysticism thing was irritating to no end. The more subtle and vague Caster became, the greater Kiritsugu's level of anger rose. He already knew? Clearly he didn't, otherwise, he wouldn't be asking a servant from the future for answers. Caster was clearly from the future, he even admitted as much. There was no other explanation for the amount of knowledge he possessed of events that hadn't even happened.

Halfway down the stairs, he paused. A sudden feeling squirmed from the neck, along his back and down to his feet. He was being watched. The Magus Killer ensured the area was clear before proceeding to the street below.

He had plans for tonight. He made a quick tally. Rider and Caster were accounted for in their own ways. Lancer and Assassin had fallen, Berserker was hiding and Archer was a dormant volcano. It was not a question of _if_ the golden servant would attack, but _when_. Five servants to go.

Berserker need only be found to be eliminated. Rider and Caster were just loose ends he'd need to clean up. Archer would require delicate handling to defeat. One misstep and Kiritsugu's path would end quickly and miserably. That end would most likely be met with him resembling swiss cheese.

Since Archer would require additional preparation he couldn't be attacked tonight. That would require a day at least for Saber to prepare. Unlike the other servants, killing the master wouldn't make Archer expire. Archers were naturally known to hold the skill of Independent Action. This simultaneously allowed them to act of their own accord without a skill penalty, as well as survive for extended periods without a source of mana. Kiritsugu could do nothing to assist his servant in combat beyond giving her Avalon. If she had the Fae scabbard, she'd be unkillable.

It left only one option for a target to scout this night: Berserker.

… … …

… … …

The Magus Killer stood some distance away from the Matou house. A single light was shining out a window on the second floor. Kiritsugu put away the scope he had been watching through and moved towards the iron gate. Rather than trying to open it or unlock it, Kiritsugu elected to do the simpler action of leaping overtop. Hours ago he had attuned his signature to the Matou bounded field. It wasn't anything on a level of Assassin, but his presence wouldn't be detected for a few seconds.

It only lasted until the doorway. He could sense the bounded field suddenly react like an immune system to a disease. While it didn't have any countermeasures to attack him with, the field went into an alerted stage. A simple kick blew the door open and allowed the Magus Killer entry. Stepping in, he secured the entranceway before moving through and clearing the rooms. To the right was a curved room with a stairwell to the second floor. The left took a turn to lead into the rest of the building. It was L shaped and incredibly dark within. Trees and foliage covered the outside of the windows, not even allowing moonlight through.

An almost overwhelming cloud of depression, darkness and hopelessness wafted through the halls. It reminded Kiritsugu of that dream he had some time ago - the dream of hellfire in Fuyuki.

A laugh echoed through the house, Kiritsugu responded by drawing a gun and looking around the room. The laugh individualized each 'heh' and seemed to be simultaneously forced and genuine. "Come for Kariya, have you? Unfortunately, you will not find him here. I suggest you leave and search elsewhere - Magus Killer." The evidently old man spoke. Kiritsugu didn't bother responding.

Why would he leave simply because he was told? Nobody hiding another from danger would admit their guilt. Kiritsugu double checked his surroundings before kicking open doors and clearing rooms. On the third room, the old man's voice returned.

"I warn you, Magus Killer, carry on and you may find something you would rather leave unseen. Kariya has never remained in this building longer than he was required, he despises me - as do I, he." The man continued trying to convince Kiritsugu but the stubborn assassin would not hear of it. He cleared the first floor and carried on up the stairs, gun moving around to keep the area secured.

"Fools write their own destinies as it were. I'll provide flowers for your funeral." The man laughed. Kiritsugu's examination of the rest of the house proved unfruitful. Even the room with the light on was found to be empty, even though it was completely different to the other rooms. There must have been another area he hadn't checked yet. There was a creaking behind him and a gunshot followed. In a spin, Kiritsugu had fired upon the source. The bullet struck a small rectangular hole lead into a sort of duct. Where the bullet had impacted, a splash of jet black liquid coated the immediate area. Peering through the darkness in the duct, Kiritsugu could have sworn that something _slithered_ away. He went over the rooms on the first floor again, finding himself in a study of some sort with books on the shelves and the floor. Looking them over, he noticed some were specified towards magecraft. This was a study, the start of a workshop. Hearing another noise, Kiritsugu turned and spotted something slimy falling off the edge of a desk.

The door he entered through slammed shut, echoing through the room. After ensuring the room wasn't rigged to explode now that he was trapped in here, he took the time to examine every possible nook and cranny. He pulled out abnormal books and rooted through the drawers of the desk. He looked underneath furniture for buttons or magic symbols and even tried to cast a room scanning spell. Just as he started to lose hope, he walked into a cold draft. He stood within it for a moment, trying to find the source. A small part in the floorboards betrayed the origin. Moving away some furniture and rolling up a rug revealed a trap door.

With his gun primed in one hand, the Magus Killer flung the door open and peered inside. A cold stone staircase led downwards into a basement. Darkness and a strange crackling sound spewed from deep within. It was almost like a fire raged below, a fire which produced no light evidently. The Magus Killer found himself reflecting on the old Matou's words. But his feet continued down the stone staircase anyway.

It was dark, much too dark to see even inches ahead. His eyes were acclimating, but they would take some time in this pitch blackness. He focused on making sure his feet contacted stone. About two dozen steps down, the trap door above slammed itself closed and the level of light fell even further.

"Great." Kiritsugu huffed, sparing some mana to reinforce his eyes. While it wouldn't make the night appear day, it would amplify the amount of light his eyes received.

To his direct right was a sheer drop of nearly forty feet. All four walls contained a countless number of man-sized passageways. It was difficult to tell how far they receded into the surrounding stone. It reminded Kiritsugu of a morgue. The bottom held an inky blackness which seemed to be the source of the persistent crackling. Closer to the source now, the crackling sounded more like a pile of beetles crawling over one another.

The Magus Killer reached a landing set against a corner and a powerful stench clogged his nostrils. Decaying flesh, insect guts and stale blood. Even he, a man who had brutally slaughtered and witnessed true evils, nearly wretched.

The air down here was cold and wet. Moisture began to settle on his bare skin, similar to the feeling of hopelessness which actually pressed on his shoulders and gripped his neck. He peered down the hole to try and find the bottom once more. Nothing, but he could have sworn the darkness below was shifting.

The Magus Killer decided to press onwards, returning to his trek down the stairs. Halfway down this next flight, his foot slipped from under him due to slime coating the stone. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest in fright. Thankfully he didn't go careening towards the bottom of the pit.

The darkness along the floor below had given way now. The sight chilled him to the core and instilled an unending sense of anger within. Thousands, tens of thousands of _worms_. Disgusting things which scrambled over one another, their slimy exoskeletons chittering as the collided with one another. They had been the sound Kiritsugu heard upon first opening the trap door. Examining the mass of worms closer, he spotted something purple and squinted to see precisely what it was.

He wished he hadn't.

It was a girl.

A little girl with dead crimson eyes and snow white hair. It was undeniably Illya, his sweet little girl, his reason for living. She stared coldly towards the roof as worms weaved and _invaded_ her body. Kiritsugu couldn't think, his mind had died upon sight. He couldn't even breath, but he could and did blink. When he did, the girl no longer had white hair or crimson eyes. Purple replaced both and her face changed considerably from Illya's. He hadn't even noticed that his breath had returned to him. He shut his eyes and tried to force the past sight from his mind, trying to control himself.

She wasn't his daughter, she was just some unfortunate girl. She held no meaning to him, she was just the plaything of whoever had spoken to him earlier.

"Have you found something to your interest?" Speak of the devil… "Has your digging finally revealed treasure?" …And he shall come. "Your meddling has bought your eyes more than they bargained for and has apparently tied your tongue." The man laughed, and it sickened Kiritsugu.

The Magus Killer hadn't brought any explosives or useful grenades. There was no way to deal with this number of insects with his current equipment. Kiritsugu continued walking down, reaching a point where the worms had started to absently spill onto the stone stairs. His eyes fell on the girl again. She hadn't even acknowledged his presence. He hardly thought she was alive until he saw the worms on her chest rise and fall.

Magecraft taught plenty of useful tricks, one of the more common spells taught to even beginner magi was a spell which summoned a jar. Jars were used in all schools of magecraft. Preserving specimens, holding potions or supplies, even blood could be retained in a jar. A benefit of making jars with mana was that they could be created wherever the caster desired just by looking.

That was how Kiritsugu managed to jar a worm without even getting near the disgusting thing. He did have to retrieve it, which meant waiting until the area around the worm-filled jar was clear before snatching it away.

"What do you think you're doing, Magus Killer? Aren't you more focused on saving the child?" The elderly voice asked, curious anger in his voice. "What are you waiting for? Can you not see she is in need of rescuing?"

There was no point, she was a lost cause in this sea of insects. Each worm contained a fragment of magical energy. He was certain that if he were to try and rescue that girl, the worms would swarm and devour him. Rather than test his theory, he began climbing the stairs to try and leave but the worms grew angry. The chittering of exoskeletons doubled in intensity. Kiritsugu ran up the stairs, glancing back to see the worms spewing upstairs like a crashing wave.

"It's too late, you cannot escape. My worms will devour your body, but leave your command seals intact. I'll take that Saber of yours and use her as my own personal puppet." Kiritsugu didn't want to ask how the old man knew _he_ was Saber's master. He had done his best to use runic to conceal the command seals but evidently, it was all for naught. "I wonder how long it will take to break her once I force worms into her body using your own command seals." A laugh echoed through the basement, bouncing off the stone walls several times to make it seem as if there were dozens of the same man laughing. The Magus Killer's footfalls followed the echoes of laughter, climbing the stairs haphazardly as the worms steadily gained on him. For insignificant things, they were fast. Perhaps it was because they could see and he couldn't. A few misplaced steps sent him scrambling on the slime soaked stone. He had to keep moving, breathing through the mouth to keep the stench from overwhelming him. He reached the second landing, only one more before the trapdoor. Every ounce of focus he had was devoted to making his steps hit something solid.

A splat ahead of him caused a flinch. Somehow a worm had been flung towards him but missed by inches. Halfway up the next staircase, he spared a glance back to find the worms were a comfortable distance away now. When his head returned to face forwards, a hunchback old man stood in his path.

"Nyeh-heh-heh, for a mage who wanders directly into the workshop of other mages, you're rather smart. You can see the danger of the worms but not the danger surrounding you at all times." He taunted. Kiritsugu hardly heard his words. This man was a monster and obviously a master at manipulation. He hardly deserved the time of day. Kiritsugu needed to leave and as much as he wanted to kill this old geezer, something was telling him that he couldn't.

"Come now, you're going to run away without saving that poor girl?" Kiritsugu tried to block out the words but found he couldn't. So he used something which always drowned out words: His Calico.

All rounds fired struck the crippled man, rather than blood, black goo splattered outwards. It was the same goo that originated from the thrown worm earlier. The bullets didn't kill, but they stunned and distracted. It seemed there was a healing period where the old man couldn't move and had to allow his body to regenerate.

Kiritsugu leapt up three stairs at a time to close the distance, taking hold of the old man's shoulder and tossing him off the side of the stairway. The Magus Killer didn't even look to see if he hit the ground. Sprinting up the stairs, unlocking the rune seals and reinforcing his coat he slammed into the closed trap door and flung himself out into the study. He was ejected from the door-maw like a torpedo. The door fell shut behind him and silenced the noise of bugs. Lying on the ground, Kiritsugu caught his breath. It was infinitely easier to breathe without decaying flesh in his nose. Every now and then he caught a whiff of the scent which made him realize it had embedded itself in the fibres of his clothes.

He eventually picked himself up and backed toward the study door. All the while he stared at the trap door as if it would burst open at any second.

It didn't, but a faint laughing followed him out of the house.

… … …

… … …

It was just after sundown when he returned to his own mansion. The first thing he did upon arriving was bathe. The smell left his skin but a faint odour of dread still trickled from his clothes. Saber and Irisviel were waiting in the kitchen for him to enter. They had collectively tidied up the home and made it somewhat liveable. Kiritsugu had hypnotized a stranger to deliver food to the house when he had initially verified its status. Hypnotizing someone else gave him some spare time and reduced the risk of being followed.

Stepping into the Kitchen, the two women turned their heads to watch him. He sat down on his knees in silence, running a hand casually through his damp hair to correct its shape to his liking.

"Master, has your reconnaissance uncovered something?" She glowered at him with cold eyes.

"You looked rather distressed when you walked in." Irisviel commented, eyes much softer than the King of Knights.

"The head of the Matou house is torturing a little girl in a pit full of worms." He spoke bluntly, watching the two others flinch visibly. "For what reasoning I don't know. I believe we should seek out Berserker, he resides elsewhere outside the Matou home. If possible, we could draw out Archer with Berserker and let the two servants fight one another. They seem at odds with each other, we can use that to our advantage."

"Master, are you just going to disregard the fact that a girl is in peril?" Saber asked, surprised anger in her throat.

"I'm not disregarding her. I can still see her dead eyes in my mind. She was laying in a bed of magical worms, crest worms if my research on the Matou is correct. They're vicious things which devour carelessly. Had I tried to save the girl, I wouldn't have escaped. Not even you could survive such an onslaught. Your abilities are better suited to single targets, hordes and swarms exceed your combat abilities." Kiritsugu pointed out.

"You believe mere worms can outmatch me?" She growled as both hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"Even the strongest can be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. While not powerful, they have enough mana and coherency to cause real damage to servants. Caster might be able to destroy them, should he have any large area affecting spells. It doesn't matter anyway because the girl isn't an objective of ours." Kiritsugu stated coldly.

"How can you say such a thing!?" Saber burst out, baring her teeth and glowering at her master. "She's an innocent girl in the clutches of a foul man. Our priority should be rescuing her." She argued. Irisviel watched her servant with an agape mouth.

"We have greater threats than an old man and his torture subjects. It's hard to deal with, I understand, but if we succeed in this war we can save her easily."

"And how do you suppose we do that? Caster has revealed that the Grail is incapable of granting wishes properly. Even if we are to succeed, you will be unable to save everyone."

"I know," Kiritsugu spoke quietly, Saber hadn't even heard him.

"If you cast your wish for them to be saved, they will all die."

"I know." He spoke a bit louder this time but Saber carried on.

"That includes your daughter-"

"I know!" He shouted, banging his hands on the table. Silence descended over the room. Kiritsugu was never known for emotional outbursts. He was always cold and heartless. "I know that better than anyone." He growled, gritting his teeth while his hands slid off the table. "Even if we win and kill the other servants, our wish would cause more pain than it's worth." He shook his head sourly. "But we have no other choice. We continue fighting or we die. If we fight and win, at least we have a chance at stopping the Grail War permanently and preventing any more unnecessary death." All three present stared down towards the table, quietly resigning to their fate.

"More importantly, it will prevent other servants from using it to cause suffering." Irisviel pointed out quietly.

Saber nodded sheepishly. "I apologize for my criticisms, masters. I had neglected to consider the stress you are both going through and the reasoning to your decisions. I never realized…" She droned on, voice fading as she cursed herself for disregarding the emotions of others, _again_.

"Berserker should be out next target." Kiritsugu reigned the conversation back on track with a sigh. "If we do attempt to use him as bait for Archer, it could take a bad turn. Our initial plan with Rider has a higher chance of success." He paused to look at the King of Knights expectantly but she was stared at her knees distantly. Saying her name caught her attention.

Her head bolted upright and her face snapped into its typical serious shape. "Yes, Berserker is too wild and unpredictable to utilize efficiently. I'm confident Rider and I can defeat Archer should we be prepared."

"I would hope so. Do not hesitate in using your noble phantasms against Archer. The key to his downfall is striking while he is calm when his guard is down. Put everything you have into the initial strike. If that doesn't succeed then the War is over from the start." Kiritsugu ordered, getting a stern nod from the servant. "With Maiya injured and Irisviel recovering their energy we aren't in a position to fight. Besides that, dawn is only an hour away. We'll all get some rest and mobilize tomorrow night. Watch over the house, Saber." He commanded, pushing himself up with a hand on the table. Saber nodded in acknowledgement, standing herself and moving to follow Irisviel. She was having the most difficulty standing. She looked as if she might collapse at any moment, paler than usual skin and drowsy eyes. When Saber moved to assist her in standing, the German woman actually did collapse into the King of Knights. Saber opened her mouth to call for her master but Irisviel spoke before she could. "Don't tell Kiritsugu, it will only worry him." Irisviel's voice was a whisper, faint and fleeting.

Saber wouldn't question her master's reasoning. The homunculus had evidently passed out after speaking, so Saber carried her bridal style to her bedroom. She tucked the girl under the covers and moved to watch over the residence.

As much as he hated to admit it, Kiritsugu was human which meant he was required to do simple human things like sleep and eat. Personally, he felt these requirements were weaknesses. The man clambered onto the futon within his study and found himself falling asleep almost instantly.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"Kerry." The voice was sweet, energetic and filled with joy. It clung to his ears and made his face feel hot. He never forgot the voice, the feelings it gave him or the woman it all came from.

"Shirley?" He asked, the sound of his own voice surprising him. He was young again, not that he was very old, to begin with, but he was younger than normal. He was a child, wearing shorts, a peach singlet and sandals. He couldn't see Shirley, he couldn't see anything at all besides himself in fact. He was floating in a void. There was no concept of up or down, left and right or forwards and back. Still, the voice was coming from somewhere so he had to look.

"Yes, Kerry, when did you get so clueless?" She giggled and the boy's heart melted. His only wish now was to see and listen to her talk - and if he could; hug her. The world around him filled itself in, like a computer program that could only generate sections of the environment at a time. The ground flew up under his feet and all at once his own weight became rapidly apparent. He hadn't noticed how much effort it took to support himself in the weightlessness of the void.

The horizon came into view next. An expansive seascape of cool blue waters languidly lapping against a white sand beach. The only unnatural element to the vista was a shabby wooden dock which led some forty feet out into the water. The wood just above the water line was whitened, salt deposits from the evaporating ocean water. Above, the sky and sun settled into place. Immediately the world became bathed in orange and a sea breeze sprung up. The scent of fresh sea air and a slight fishy smell pressed against his face. With this breeze, the heat of a tropical sun washed over him. He closed his eyes to savour these basic senses. The sand below radiated this heat and warmed his skin. It had been some time since he had been to a warm country. Germany was always cold and his trips to Japan were always during the winter months.

"Are you feeling alright, Kerry?" Shirley asked. His eyes opened and she was there, just as breathtaking as he remembered. Long soft brown hair tied into a ponytail, loosely made to allow 'tails' to hang off the sides of her head. Bangs from above almost covered amber eyes. There was such sparkling wisdom in them, along with unbridled happiness. He was jealous. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find any words. She only laughed and that served to fluster him more. She wore the white sundress and black waist belt he remembered so well.

"It's like you haven't seen me in years! Come on Kerry, let's go see if Ms. Reyes is looking for someone to sample her baking." She started running down the beach and Kiritsugu was compelled to chase after.

He was smiling as he ran, running behind her across the beach, down the dirt path, through the trees towards the village. He cast a glance behind him to watch the beachside through the trees, only when he returned his gaze forwards the village wasn't as he expected. Fire raged and tore apart nipa and bamboo homes. Screams echoed over the crackle of roaring flame. The scent of smouldering flesh and fresh blood hung heavy in the air. The air was so hot and laden with smoke that breathing was near impossible. Each breath felt like he was breathing flaming embers.

Only shambling corpses could brave the true heat of the flame. Bloodied, half burnt people with an intelligence around the single digits. They were all ghouls, Kiritsugu learned of that term later, made by the evilest man Kiritsugu had ever killed; his father.

Kiritsugu realized that this had all been a dream upon seeing the flames. It reminded him of the other dream of flames, another one of his failures. A failure still to come, but a failure nonetheless. Even though he held the appearance of a child in this dream, he had the mind of an experienced adult. The sight was less intimidating now that he understood the world had occurrences like this daily - hourly even. Kiritsugu was prepared to brave the inferno to reach whatever 'end' this dream had.

Then Shirley reappeared and the worst nightmare he had ever experienced began. Glowing crimson replaced the soft amber eyes, blood-spattered her clothes, hair and face, fangs glowed in the moonlight but the emotion in her face was the most disturbing. It was the face of someone being forced into something they despised. Her body was moving autonomously and her mind was sickened by what it was doing. It was the most disgusting torture that broke the strongest of wills. She was watching her own body kill a loved one.

Kiritsugu's hand wrapped around Shirley's neck. He had returned to his normal adult body at some point. She was stronger than her thin body would lead him to believe. She tried to continue moving through him and almost toppled him. Kiritsugu tightened his grip positioned his feet while lifting the vampire off her feet. Both her clawed hands wrapped around his forearm. Sheer brute strength cut through the magically enhanced coat and sliced into his flesh.

"Ke-ry-" she gasped through his grip. "Kill-me." She pleaded with him, eyes boiling with anger - betraying her words. Tears streamed down her blood-splattered face.

Kiritsugu was gritting his teeth, tears running down his own face. The Contender was in his hand, shaking as it was drawn under her chin. The cold steel barrel pressed against her jaw and forced her head back. Try as he might, he couldn't pull the trigger. He blinked to clear the tears from his eyes, giving his head a shake. "I can't." He growled, Contender rattling as it shook in his grasp. "I can't kill you again." He admitted, shutting his eyes tightly.

She growled like a wild beast, and Kiritsugu opened his eyes. His hold on her throat was waning, and the glint of her teeth neared with each second. "F-" She began, closing one eye in strain while a hand gently caressed the side of his face. "Fool."

In a snap, that same hand grasped the back of his neck and yanked him forward. His arm collapsed under the force and Shirley's teeth planted themselves in his neck. His strength faltered while his first love held him tight in a vampiric embrace. He would die, but he couldn't have wished to die any other way.

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The world was born again with his death. Contrary to how the world built itself in the first segment of his dream, this one was pre-established. It was just fuzzy and required blinking to clarify as if it were out of focus. He was… Where was he?

It was sundown, most likely spring if the blooming flowers indicated anything. He was standing a slight distance away from a simple stone pedestal in the midst of a maintained meadow. Beyond the pedestal, was a cliff face which led to a rocky shore. Pointing upwards on the pedestal, were twenty-six white tipped bullets. It was easy to recognize them, they were his Origin Rounds. Twenty-six was the number of rounds he had left to use. He moved towards the rounds, noticing that his steps didn't make any noise in this strange new environment. He stood over the pedestal, reaching out and picking up a round to examine it. Engraved on the bullet was a name, but it was blurred and entirely unreadable. He tried wiping away the blurriness with a gloved finger but found it wouldn't budge. Frowning, he set the round back beside the others.

"You probably have a lot of questions." Came a familiar voice from behind him. Turning quickly, he spotted Caster. He was wearing a robe of some sort that draped off his shoulders and concealed the rest of his figure from the neck down. His head and face were bare now, no longer concealed by the crimson mask. His skin was i̸̪͍̯̜4̸̮̭m̷̧̯̯̊ and his eyes $͋̄̽1̲͊̿̾̈́̕ͅ3ͥ҉̺̙̘̫r̷̬̙̋ with a sort of kind honesty behind them. He was quite handsome, with an angular jaw and defined features.

"Who are you?"

The man chuckled. "You already know the answer to that question." He smiled, genuinely.

"I thought you said you couldn't manipulate dreams." Kiritsugu frowned, clenching his fists nervously. Had he been lied to again?

"I can't. The Caster you believe me to be and myself are different, much like you and _your_ copies are different." He nodded forwards, inciting Kiritsugu to turn around. Rather than a pedestal with Origin Rounds, a copy of himself stood smoking a cigarette in a light drizzle. Naturally, he was more focused on the cigarette. It had been so long since he last had one he almost forgot the taste. The area around them was no longer a peaceful cliffside, but a concrete and steel jungle wetted by rain. Kiritsugu easily recognized it as an industrial area of Fuyuki, near the docks. There were other people here besides his own copy. Saber was walking slowly towards the copy and in the distance, Irisviel held her hands over her mouth.

There were blurred figures here as well. Two body-shaped figures laid on the ground to the Kiritsugu copy's direct right. One of them was crawling towards the copy with an outstretched arm. Behind Saber, was a hunched over figure who was grasping at their chest. With a quick slash, one of the prone blurry shapes fell limp and blood splattered onto Saber's face. Kiritsugu was startled, not by Saber's action although it was a little out of character, but by a hand landing on his shoulder.

It was gloved and squeezed gently. " _That_ you doesn't exist anymore. It hasn't existed for a long time now. Four years I believe."

"What do you mean _that_ me?" Kiritsugu asked absently, watching himself, his servant and his wife move their mouths without making a sound.

"There are a couple different versions of you floating around time. This is one of them, you are another. This one never got to see the dreams you have, the kinds of dream you're in right now." Caster explained. Kiritsugu knew it was the servant of magic from his voice, the appearance hadn't even mattered.. "You're actually a _new_ Magus Killer."

"New?" Kiritsugu repeated, unclear on the meaning. "I'm the first that's had these dreams?" He asked, looking back at the servant who merely nodded.

"Yes, although _new_ doesn't really work when speaking to a spirit that cannot comprehend the prospect of time.. I'm surprised at your lack of surprise. Doesn't the thought of multiple copies of yourself all doing slightly different things shock you?" Caster asked, raising one eyebrow.

Kiritsugu shook his head. "I've always believed in the theory of multiple realities and timelines." He paused to swallow, sorting through questions in his mind. "Why are you here?" He decided on, directing the flow of conversation.

"As I've said, I'm not the _Caster_ you know in your waking hours. I cannot harm you as I'm only a spiritual manifestation. The Caster you know has only connected me to you, given shape to the spirit as it were." Caster judged the look in Kiritsugu's eyes as an urging to go on. "You will understand my significance in time, around the end of your War. Just know that your dream scrying has altered the future and demolished the scales of balance. You know of things you shouldn't, you have started the motion of things you would have been better to leave alone. Perhaps it may all turn out better this way, I can only hope." Caster consoled, smiling and giving the Magus Killer's shoulder a pat. The dream copy, Saber and Irisviel all left the scene, and the area around them faded away again. "If I show you the future, misfortune strikes everyone you love. I can answer your questions, but cannot show you any proof. Because these sorts of timelines are limited, my memories of the true events are hazy. I can help you save everyone, but sacrifices will need to be made." Caster mumbled, looking ahead blankly as if browsing files in his mind.

"What sort of sacrifices?" Kiritsugu asked simply.

"Your wife always dies." Caster snapped back, making him flinch. "Other copies of me who have been summoned to your War have tried several times to save the poor girl but the world has decided her fate permanently." He paused, breathing heavily. "But the choice can still be made." He growled with sudden anger.

"What sort of choice?" Kiritsugu asked with neutrality, staring forwards while unsure what to do.

"A choice of lives. If your wife dies in this War, Illyasviel lives. If you choose to save Irisviel..." Kiritsugu didn't like where this was going already, and he turned to glare at the servant. "Believe me, I dislike the idea as much as you do." He paused a beat and just as Kiritsugu was going to speak, Caster continued. "Ah - here we are." He smiled, and the world began to build itself.

"Are you going to explain how you can do all of this?" Kiritsugu asked while their surroundings loaded.

"Through Saber. Avalon is Saber's scabbard, nothing can change that. However, the scabbard links to other servants and individuals as well. Think of the summoning ritual like dropping a rubber ball. Usually, it bounces straight up and everything works accordingly. But when someone or something affects the scales, a chunk is removed from the ball. Now every bounce has a chance of flying off in a random direction. You should have been seeing Saber's life as a dream but instead, you're stuck with me." His voice was calm and monotone as if explaining this was boring.

The world finished generating. It was hell in Fuyuki again, the same scene in his dream years ago that was interrupted by Illya. Piles of rubble, screams and eternally burning corpses afflicted with cursed flame. "Why have you brought me here?"

"This is the place of my birth, in order for the circle to be completed this _must_ occur." Caster stated, voice rather hollow. He pointed suddenly towards a man which looked exactly like him. The difference was that this copy wasn't wearing a cloak. Black armour with silver accents protected his torso while leaving his arms bare. "Even though it's been so long since I was here, the memory still clings to me. It will do the same for you, Kiritsugu."

The Magus Killer watched Caster's other self stride along the rubble carelessly. He clambered on top of a pile of rubble and halted, staring down at something. "Hey, you know that's hell you're walking into." Moving his head, Kiritsugu could see a teenager below Caster's other self. They looked the same, only one had bright red hair. This younger man was staring forward, looking at an _even younger_ version of himself, a small child. This was rapidly becoming a convoluted Russian nesting doll of the same person speaking to their younger selves… Or were they each warning one another? Warning their foolish immature selves that the path they would follow would only lead to suffering?

"You know that's hell you're walking into, right?" The teenaged Caster repeated, voice entirely different compared to his older self. The child looked back blankly, before continuing to trudge through the rubble away from his older selves.

Kiritsugu was blatantly confused, but Caster seemed to be smiling warmly. "What do you mean it must occur? How can I…" He broke off, watching the two older versions disappear in smoke to leave the child alone. The child took two more steps forward and collapsed, Kiritsugu suddenly noticed the familiarity of the area. This was where the dream had ended when Illya woke him up. "You-!"

"I am. You saved me that day, and you'll save me again after you kill me. Almost ironic, isn't it?" Caster spoke autonomously, watching the child lift his hand to the sky. "If you have any questions about the War you should ask them now." Caster waved his hand and forced the world away. They returned to an only black void only this time, the ground below actually supported him.

"Can we… Can I understand some things first?" Kiritsugu asked, mind trying to comprehend what was happening.

"Sure. We should have plenty of time unless someone wakes you." Caster moved to stand a few steps ahead of him.

" _How_ can you do this? Simply because you have a connection to Avalon means nothing." Kiritsugu pointed out.

"My connection to you goes deeper than just Avalon, it also goes with Saber herself. You know of the shared dream effect between servants and masters, correct?" Caster didn't even pause long enough for Kiritsugu to answer. "The connection is so great, that the dream effect has a chance to extend into my mind. Since I don't actually exist as your servant, I have a much greater degree of control than a normal servant. In my current form within your head, I'm almost like a wraith." Caster explained.

The Magus Killer seemed to accept that answer. "What questions can you answer? The real Caster told me he couldn't answer much."

Caster nodded deeply. "That sounds right. I can answer any question ask, but I won't jeopardize the future to sate your curious appetite. The real Caster won't have the extensive memories that I do."

"Can I trust the real Caster?" Kiritsugu asked, narrowing his eyes.

"That depends. Tell me about the War in its current state."

Kiritsugu hardly knew where to begin. "Assassin and Kirei Kotomine are dead, Lancer and Kayneth El-Melloi have also been killed. Berserker is hiding, Rider is waiting and Archer is… I don't know what Archer is doing. I've gone to Caster personally and asked him questions. I needed answers and he gave a few." He admitted, trying to figure out where this was going.

"Has Maiya survived or not? Was Risei Kotomine killed in the explosion?" Caster asked, placing his hand on his chin.

"Maiya is still alive, Risei survived and essentially put a bounty on my head. Two command seals go to anyone who has information."

Caster shook his head, humming. "While I wouldn't be afraid of Caster doing anything to harm you, I'd be cautious around - his master." He had paused in his speech, twitching as if what he had tried to say had hurt him. "What sort of question did you ask the real Caster?"

Kiritsugu told him as many as he could remember, and each time he did, Caster nodded.

"I understand what he will do now. It's what I would do anyway. Whether you know it or not, you've made an ally and a good one at that. From how you describe his actions, I doubt his memories are all there. The catalyst in his summoning must have been his weapons of choice rather than the true catalyst he originates from. You'll understand the irony of that in the next War." Caster waved off, chuckling to himself.

"There's another War?" Kiritsugu interjected, getting nothing more than a nod from the servant.

"Yes, in ten years from the end of your War." Caster smirked at the grimace Kiritsugu held. "You will live to see it take place. You will be a great participant, but not a master. Unlike your war, the Grail can survive without sacrifice."

"What does any of that mean? How can another Grail War begin in ten years?" Kiritsugu grew upset, voice raising a tad.

"I can't answer that, you must put the pieces together yourself when the time comes."

There was a period of silence while Kiritsugu shut his eyes tight. "How can I protect Irisviel and Maiya?" Kiritsugu finally asked.

"Irisviel will die regardless of what you do, remember? You can make her passing easier by giving her rest and free time with Saber. When you kill the third servant, her motor functions will rapidly deteriorate. She will be unable to even move, but she'll be conscious. The fourth will send her into a coma as the Grail prepares her body. At that point, it would be hard to consider her alive." He paused, watching Kiritsugu digest the information. "Just be with her when she passes, there's nothing else you can do." The servant could see the turmoil behind the Magus Killer's eyes so he decided to move onto the next subject. "Maiya should live out the War. She is heavily concussed is she not?"

Kiritsugu blinked back to reality, nodding hesitantly. "How did you know?"

Caster only chuckled. "I've been there before, remember? Just leave her be and she'll survive, this time." He mumbled the last part, Kiritsugu hadn't caught it.

"You haven't lied to me yet." Kiritsugu resigned, huffing angrily. "Can you tell me how you can be defeated?" Kirtusug asked, getting a warm smile from Caster.

"A fair question. You shouldn't need to kill my real self, but if you do - use a couple of names."

"Names?" Kiritsugu asked, scrunching his face in confusion.

Caster nodded. "Sakura Matou and Rin Tohsaka. Tell him to remember them."

A bright flash came from Caster suddenly, and the world tore apart as if it were made of strings.

… … …

Kiritsugu's eyes snapped open to the roof of his bedroom. That was enough sleep for tonight. He sat up and looked towards the clock. six in the morning, he had gotten two hours of sleep. The Magus Killer kicked the blankets off his legs and stood from the Futon. Shakily, he moved to the desk and settled into a chair. Blindly, he turned on the desk lamp and withdrew a thick black journal. It was hard cover, with elaborate engravings on the front and back.

Methodically, he withdrew a pen from the bindings, flipped the book open to the desired page and began scrawling on the paper. He had started recording important events and his dreams when the first premonition hit in 1991. If this carried on much longer, he would need another book.

… … ...

… … ..

"Yo Caster?"

"Yes, Master?" The servant responded without pausing. He was meditating in the center of one of the buildings within Ryuudou Temple, something he did whenever he wasn't occupied.

"Do you think you could make a-"

"Here it is." The servant interrupted, holding up a small black device.

"How did you - You know what, nevermind." Limes shook his head, gently taking the item and pocketing it within his vest.

"Your mind is like gunfire. Loud, brutally simplistic and easy to decipher." Caster commented, voice a distant calm as he returned to his meditation.

Limes exited, mumbling curses under his breath at his own servant. While walking down the steps of the temple, he brought out the device and looked it over in his hands. "This is perfect… How the hell did Caster know I wanted this?" Within gloved hands, was a slightly burnt pager. Oddly enough the device still functioned. Pushing a button illuminated the screen with text. It was incoherent as the components making up the display were fused together.

"I imagine the priest will want to see this. I can replace the two command seals I've used with the ones he gives me. Maybe then I can pry more from that tightwad Caster." He mumbled to himself, walking down the street towards the church. He laughed, walk gaining a happy jaunt. "You've shown yourself somewhat capable Kiritsugu, now lets see how you perform as the main target!" The laugh turned into a psychotic cackle as the masked man almost bounced along the pathway towards the rising sun.

… … ...

In a mansion, a man wrote within his journal. A shiver coursed through his body and he instinctively glanced around. Something was making him nauseous. He felt as if everything he had worked for would soon come crumbling down around him and there was nothing he could do about it. Twirling the pen in his hand idly, he contemplated what it could mean. Closing the journal, he slithered out of the room to check on his wife. Leaning on the doorway, he simply observed her sleeping form.

"Saber." He whispered, moving from the doorway and silently closing the door. From deep within his mind, she spoke to him.

"Master, what is it you will have of me?" Her voice was cold, not as cold as it had been during their argument at the docks but heartless in comparison to how she spoke towards Irisviel.

"Move Maiya to Irisviel's room and watch over them both." He ordered, moving towards the shed in the backyard. "I have a bad feeling. It's most likely nothing, but I'll be living apart for some time. Should I need you, I will call for you. Look under the large tarp in the backyard, it will aid in your journey."

"Yes, Master."

The Magus Killer flung the heavy door of the shed open and stepped through. The magic circle inscribed in the floor illuminated the room with a pleasing blue. In the far corner laid a safe. Locked tight and magically enchanted, it took the man little more than seconds to open it. Laden within were basic weapons, bullets, grenades and stacks of currency from various nations. American and Canadian dollars, Japanese yen and Great British Pounds. Kiritsugu retrieved several items from within. Grenades inscribed with runic for increased efficiency, spare bullets for his on-hand weaponry and a pager receiver. He placed all these items into his jacket and returned the safe to its original state.

He turned to leave but stopped upon seeing Saber in the doorway. "I told you to keep watch over Irisviel." He scowled.

Saber nodded. "Master, may I ask why you are leaving?"

Kiritsugu stood motionless for quite a while. "You may not be familiar with such techniques, King of Knights, but the easiest way to break a man is through their loved ones." He paused, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Distancing myself protects those dear to me." He strode forwards, moving within arms reach of his servant.

"You are mistaken. I understand your motives entirely." She glared up at him with cool eyes, stepping back from the door and turning mid-step to return to her assigned post. "I shall receive my orders from Lady Irisviel until you return." She parted.

He watched her return to the main building. Following her lead, he moved across the backyard and into the main building, leaving through the front door without another word. He did spare a glance behind himself, however, silently saying his goodbyes.

* * *

 **The large break between these last two chapters was due to Thanksgiving weekend. I went home and forgot about writing for a while. When I came back, I couldn't find it in me to write and had trouble developing the story. (Hopefully, that hasn't become apparent in the writing) To counter this, I'm contemplating writing another fanfiction of Fate, with a story completely different to Fate: Unbalanced Scales. If that's a good idea, if you like the idea or would simply like to see different writing from me - WRITE A REVIEW!**

 **Finals for this semester are in a week and for the Christmas break, I'll be heading home. I wouldn't expect a chapter until sometime after I return to school next semester as then I'll have free time and all that.**

 **So favourite if you did, follow for updates, write reviews to encourage me(We could really use some more, haven't gotten any in a long while) and enjoy Unbalanced Scales. _(In moderation, anything over 0.08 is considered impaired.)_**


	7. Natural Order of Things

**EDIT: Fire is my favourite element to use in RPGs. In D &D my wizard alternates between Scorching Ray and Fireball, while in Divinity: Original Sin 2 my wizard uses Laser Ray and Supernova for his damage. I suspect this is due to latent pyromaniac tendencies which hid throughout my childhood. Y'all better get insurance.**

 **You didn't think I was really going to leave you for so long, did you? Hah! I had nothing to do and got a lot of my desire for writing back so here's another chapter. (After this one I'll actually be on break for Christmas though) I have the feeling that some things may happen that you weren't expecting. {Welcome to Type Moon}**

 **Write reviews! I haven't gotten any in so long that I'm beginning to think nobody cares anymore!**

* * *

All his weaponry was disassembled on the hotel table. A bottle of gun oil and a copious amount of dirtied rags were strewn across the room. Kiritsugu sat on the edge of his bed, swabbing the barrel of his Contender to clear the rifling. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep after being awoken from his dream so he decided to make good use of his time. His Contender was almost ready to be rebuilt. The Calico was still in pieces and required more cleaning. It was good practice to keep one's weapons well maintained.

His head snapped up when the phone in his room rang. Carefully, he set the barrel of his gun down and moved to pick up the receiver. Bringing it to his ear, a voice came through the line. "Kiritsugu, it's Maiya." The man in question released a held breath. For whatever reason, he had expected it to be Limes. "The local Yakuza visited the house earlier."

Kiritsugu didn't fully know how to respond to that. The Yakuza were typically blatant criminals focused on making money, disregarding decency. "My thoughts exactly." She responded to his silence. "They seem to be civilized. The girl who came with them said she knew you - Taiga Fujimura?"

He pursed his lips. If Maiya had faith in them, he wouldn't question their decency. "I met her in 92' when I was leaving Fuyuki. She also visited when I checked out the property a couple days ago." He positioned the receiver in the nook of his shoulder, freeing up his hands to begin re-assembling the Calico. "She seemed like a nice girl, wouldn't have guessed she was part of the local Yakuza."

"Neither would I." She agreed, pausing a moment. "She lives nearby, next door in fact. The girl was escorted by two younger men. One of them noticed my holster and invited me over to have tea. I was wary at first, but he simply wanted to make sure I understood his position in the city while ensuring I would stay out of it."

"So why call me?" Kiritsugu asked plainly, sliding the spring into the Calico's magazine and beginning the attentive process of setting its tension.

"I've used your relationship with the girl to enlist the Yakuza. They'll keep an eye out for Kariya Matou in the underside of Fuyuki." She clarified, getting an appreciative noise from Kiritsugu.

"Good thinking, we can't kill him if we can't find him." Kiritsugu complimented. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Waver Velvet is growing restless. That is to say, Rider is looking for a fight. I fear if he continues, Archer will take up his offer." She relayed.

Engaging against Archer prematurely could spell their downfall. Should Rider fight Archer and lose, they would have to rely on Caster to defeat Archer. "We can't stop him from doing as he desires. We'll have to adjust our plans accordingly."

"Unfortunately." She mumbled, allowing silence to take over the line. It was plain awkward. Maiya was obviously trying to formulate words in her mind to continue the conversation. She was used to speaking business, not her personal feelings or gratitude. "I want to thank you for preparing me last night, Kiritsugu. Without your guidance and tools, I would have died."

Kiritsugu furrowed his brow, set down the completed magazine and slid the receiver of his Contender into the wood handle. Small, long screws fixed the two together. "You said it yourself, I must use the tools I have and they must be at peak performance. Maiya, you should get some more rest, your concussion was pretty bad."

More silence. "Yes, yes you're right. I'll get some rest. If something comes up-"

"You'll let me know." He finished for her, sliding the hammer of his Contender into place in the receiver. "Tomorrow I'll need help in securing the presumed location for the Grail." He mumbled, focusing on assembling his gun.

"Yes sir, o'six hundred?"

"Affirmative." He ended, holding the phone against his ear until it went silent. When it did, he replaced the receiver in its holder and tried to focus on assembling the Contender. He snagged the barrel from where he left it on the bed and settled it into place. His mind wandered while his hands worked. Maiya had started acting strangely following her injuries and he couldn't explain why. Her typical clear-cut business centred attitude had been undermined by a more talkative demeanour. It was almost as if she was becoming a real human being.

He knew how that sounded, but there was no other way to put it. In her current state, she was broken by what her former abusers had put her through. Those memories were definitely better off being forgotten, for both their sakes.

With a screwdriver, he tightened and tweaked the gun until it was perfect. Holding it in his hand, he verified the balance and sighting. He performed a dry reload to test the other moving parts "Two point seven." He remarked. It had taken a little under three seconds to reload, faster than average. Before he went into retirement, he had it cut down to two point four. A half dozen years expectedly degraded his skills.

He set his Contender down and picked up pieces of the Calico's complex receiver. It took him a little over five minutes to reassemble the finicky little gun but he had done it without much trouble. The phone rang, and he casually picked it up.

"We've got a problem." It was Maiya again, her voice stern and cold as he usually remembered it. "Risei knows it was you who attacked the Church. He's got evidence to go against us. All the other servants are going to strike for those two command seals." She almost sounded panicked, almost.

"How have you heard of this?" He asked, moving to the window of his room so he could peek out from behind the curtains.

"Rider visited, Saber managed to diffuse him. Allegedly he is going to explain the situation to Risei and let it be known that Saber has no idea where you are. That should protect us marginally." Maiya explained, the sound of rustling and metal clanging coming through in the background.

Kiritsugu took a second to think. This was bad, really bad. Someone had set him up and there was no way out. Limes was the cause, he was sure of it. "Does Rider know of your presence?"

"Negative, only Limes and Caster know of me." She responded.

"Good. Stay at the house and monitor. I doubt any servant would bombard the property in broad daylight but stick beside Saber at all times. Put together bug-out bags and keep them close." He ordered, shoving the completed Contender and Calico into his coat.

"One step ahead of you, sir. What will you do without the protection of Saber?"

"What I've always done." He paused, stuffing grenades into pockets. "Whatever I have to." The Magus Killer settled the receiver into its rightful place. While moving to leave, he double checked his readiness. There was a closet just before the door which he reached into to sling a bag onto his shoulder. With all his equipment assembled, he left and headed to his objective.

… … …

… … …

Pain. It had almost become an emotion. Insufferable pain. _Indescribable_ intensity and absolutely foreign compared to physical pain. Trying to describe it was the only thing which brought them relief. Like every one of their nerves had been torn outside their body, set on fire and scraped with the edge of a knife. It was an unending, searing, horrid agony.

Their eyes had been gouged out days ago. Nose removed and ears impaled precisely with instruments to prevent hearing. Their tongue had even been removed at the base. To prevent them from choking on blood, a tube had been jammed down their throat. Their captor continually poured some sort of liquid down this tube, which was likely the source of such tremendous pain. It was also what likely kept them alive and awake.

All limbs, even their neck and torso, were bound. Trying to move amplified the already arduous pain tenfold, so they preferred to remain motionless and limp.

The pain brought them out of their reflection. What else could they possibly do? No sounds, no scents, no sights, no reason to live. All that was left was to ask _why_ and _how?_ How had it gotten this far, how had they allowed the situation to become so dire? Why had they been so ignorant of the signals? Why could they not do anything about their current situation? Why had their tormentor even put them in this position, to begin with? How would their family react? How could their wish even be granted at this point?

Something stirred nearby. It was their captor - pouring sustenance down their throat tube to keep them alive. They didn't speak - if they did they couldn't be heard with the weapons in each ear. The captor simply kept their plaything alive - because he needed their victim alive - because they were important to him - because he couldn't survive without them. The fluid stopped, and their stomach grumbled hungrily. Whatever the liquid was, it provided little in actual nutrition. The tormentor left, the pain redoubled and more self-imposed questions returned.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The more he had to look at it, the more he despised it. Kiritsugu kicked open the door of the Matou home again, quickly noticing it wasn't as ominous in the daytime. Sunlight glimmered through the dusty windows and gave it a disused appearance.

"Back again so soon? Has your conscious finally gotten the better of you?" The old man's voice was already upon him. "I had just fixed that door you know." He growled. Kiritsugu bolted straight for the study with the trap door. Already he could hear the house squirming. The doors blocking him held no resistance to his kicks, not even the trap door slowed his movements. The great wood entrance swung open, Kiritsugu stomped on the hinges to break them entirely. It would not slam shut on him a second time.

The Magus Killer had taken the stairs so slowly yesterday for two reasons. One, was simply because it was dark and he had no idea how the stairs were laid out. The second, was so he could memorize their positioning and the layout, cataloguing the information for later use. Later being right at this moment evidently.

So this time around, the Magus Killer nearly flew down the stairs. He reached into his coat pockets, fumbling to remove cylinders from within. Two of the objects came into each hand. They crossed over one another and pins flashed in the dim light. From an observer's point of view, he dropped the devices casually off the edge of the stairs. His own point of view had precisely gauged the distance and travel time to place the two devices in opposite corners of one another.

The canisters bounced off the ground once, exploding simultaneously. Flames violently tore apart the basement, illuminating the scene below. The girl was there again in the center of the worms, eyes wide from the explosions heating the air around her. The worms rapidly collected and converged into chitinous walls to halt the tide of flames. A cacophony of screeching and squealing followed as they burst into black goo instantly upon contact. The flames were magically enhanced specifically to deal with these bugs. Kiritsugu had done his research on the worm he captured yesterday.

The grenades were not enhanced with rune magic, there was no rune combination to target crest worms specifically. Also, doing so would also require disassembly of the entire grenade and enhancing each component for absolute efficiency. The effect would have been perfect had he put in that much effort - but he didn't have, or want to, take that much time. He used reinforcement to amplify the effect of the flaming compound as well as the burst radius of flame, then alteration to add an anti-magical effect - an anti-ether effect to be specific. About halfway down the last staircase, Kiritsugu unzipped the bag he had grabbed from his hotel. He fumbled around with the contents but managed to withdraw and throw several tan packages through the room. They landed on the floor in the piles of blackened goo and within the man-sized holes in the walls. It was careless compared to some of the jobs he had done, but being in a time crunch heavily taxed efficiency.

A blanket was also withdrawn. Kiritsugu leapt over the smoking goo pile and quickly wrapped the small trembling girl up in the blanket - mostly to preserve her modesty - which aided in carrying her. The grenades had done their job and either killed all the worms or trapped them beneath the goop of their fallen brethren.

"What do you think you're doing!? You disgrace my work like this? What are you going to do with a broken little girl?" The old man's voice was fury incarnate and the distance chittering of swarming worms merely portrayed this rage in physical form.

"I'll glue the pieces back together." He mumbled, a hateful scowl on his face as he carried the trembling girl on his shoulder. Was it odd to notice she weighed less than his sniper rifle? The stairs flew by beneath his feet. Memorizing simple things like _stairs_ had its benefits.

"You can't, the Matou magic has already been ingrained within her, she is unsavable!" He growled, voice reverberating several times against the walls. The first landing, Kiritsugu heard something smack the ground wryly behind him. Several more smacks followed until the sound ascended to sound quite perverse.

"Then she'll be unsavable living with a family that doesn't subject her to disgusting worms." The girl on his shoulder was stiff and tried her best not to move at all although tremors of fear courses through her occasionally.

"Then she'll die in vain." The old man menaced. Unexpectedly, worms flooded from above as well as below. Kiritsugu was reminded of last night, where his sprint up the stairs was in hot pursuit. The only difference was that he had a swarm of bugs covering his escape to deal with. The second landing passed by, and Kiritsugu reached into his coat to withdraw another grenade. It was the last incendiary grenade he had. Pulling the pin, he awkwardly and shakily drew on the steel canister with his finger - While running. _Ehwaz, Raido, Uruz_ was whispered in his mind. The symbols looked like kindergarten work, but he had given himself enough room that they wouldn't interfere. Awkwardly, he threw the grenade directly upwards - he couldn't precisely throw with the girl on his shoulder.

The runes illuminated in pale blue and the canister flew off on auto-pilot towards the top of the stairway. The runes were simply to direct the grenade where he desired and to increase its speed so it arrived before detonating. His feet hit the third landing, worms were close to his front. As another fresh wave piled down through the trapdoor, the grenade went off and cleared most of the last stairway. The blast was significantly larger than he had expected. Evidently, the Uruz rune increased the explosive potential as well. Flames ejected through the trapdoor into the study and several bits flew back towards Kiritsugu himself. Some worms persisted in his path. There was nothing he could do besides try and rush past them. He squashed one under his boot and almost slipped from the resulting black goo. A noise of pain forced its way from his mouth as a worm - then two - latched onto each of his legs. They were small things, but each one held rows of jagged fangs that acted like fishing hooks. They pierced his pants and skin, digging into the flesh before tearing out and taking chunks of skin.

Thankfully, Avalon could heal the damage - and it did, but each little patch up rapidly drained the stored charge. Instead of pausing to kill the worms, he ground up against the wall on his side, killing one of the foul creatures. The other persisted and gradually climbed up his left leg. The pain he could bear with, but losing a leg in such a position would spell sure death.

The last landing. He almost slipped and slammed his shoulder - and by extension the girl on said shoulder - into the wall. Instead, he used his knee and elbow to take the impact. A worm struck him in the back and latched onto his coat. He could feel the creature gnawing into the fabric. In seconds those teeth would meet flesh. Or it would have if the thing hadn't given up and dropped to the stairs below. A dozen stairs ahead, the fire began. It was actually repelling the worms, but the smoke billowing from the trapdoor made Kiritsugu realize his grenade had started a blaze in the mansion. It was going to be hard to leave here without burning the girl. He sprinted directly through the still burning flames. He was fast enough where it didn't affect him much, but slow enough to catch the worm still gnawing on his leg. His legs and coat smoulded from the singeing. The study was heavily clouded in smoke from burning of old, dry wood. The jettisoned fire had clung to the roof and ignited the second floor. Flames had spread more to the walls than to the floor. He set the girl down and removed his coat.

"Put this on, it will protect you." He ordered, mustering as much happiness as he could to convince her into listening. The blanket he gave her was the only barrier between Kiritsugu being a rescuer of a tormented soul and a pedophile. He turned his head while handing her his coat, watching the, now closed, door to the study for a moment as the weight of his gift was taken off his hand.

With the blanket left on the floor, he kneeled and motioned with his hand. "Wrap your hands around my neck, we need to move quickly." He calmly stated, clenching his jaw as the fire consumed the doorway and much of the floor leading towards it. This fire was spreading incredibly fast. He only had minutes to escape before the entire structure gave way.

Almost like a machine, she followed his directions and hopped onto him piggyback style. Not wishing to waste another second, he stood and bolted for the door. That old man had probably closed it when Kiritsugu went into the basement. A last ditch effort to stop him. While running, the Magus Killer awkwardly let another tan package fall from his bag onto the floor of the study. Instead of shoulder-bashing the door, he kicked it near the handle and sent it flying from the scorched hinges. A blast of hot air and flames bathed over him. He had anticipated as much and had raised both arms to guard his face. Both forearms were heavily burnt, but skin could always heal. He leapt through the flame-covered doorway into the hallway, scorching his shoulders and singeing the hair on the side of his head from the heat alone.

At least the worms weren't a problem anymore. Although he may have spoken to soon. As if sensing this ease of difficulty, buzzing filled the air. Less of a singular noise of a bee trapped in a small room, more like a massive horde of devouring locust. Kiritsugu looked right - towards the main entrance - and found it impassable. Not only had the flames covered the floor, but the ceiling had partially collapsed and flying bugs clouded what little space wasn't occupied by debris. They had wings like dragonflies, stingers like scorpions, two arms with pincers all with mouths housing jagged mandibles.

They were _definitely_ worse than the worms. Not even bothering to verify the path left, he took it. Sprinting towards the rounded staircase, he planned a premature escape plan. _More_ _ **goddamn**_ stairs were climbed to reach the second floor. The smoke was visibly thicker here. With all the sprinting _, stairs_ , having to carry a young girl, and smoke, he was panting heavily. Heat wrapped around his body, making it even harder to breathe properly. He was light-headed - he couldn't keep this up much longer. Casually, he threw the bag off his shoulder and looked around for his next path. The buzzing from below grew louder with each passing second. His throat felt like it was made of sandpaper, each breath burned on the way down. Back was blocked off, forward would lead into an inferno, what if he simply made his own exit?

He kneeled, and the girl let go and dropped to her feet automatically. Without saying much, he turned and carried her bridal style. When he had a good grip, the Magus Killer ran directly towards a window. The girl's purple eyes widened, her mouth parted in surprise but just as she shut both in preparation for the impact - Kiritsugu turned. His back struck the window, weight shattering the glass and body absorbing the impact of leaping from the second story. The weight of a girl crashing on top of him winded the man but didn't halt him from reaching into his coat and pulling out something small and black.

While gasping as his diaphragm corrected itself, he reached behind the girl's neck to tug his coat up over the back of her head. The other hand - holding the device - pressed a button and the home - her home - exploded. There was a significantly larger explosion deep within. It shook the very ground and actually collapsed much of the house deep into the earth. Two other explosions quickly followed, one which blew the center portion of the house vertical and another which tore apart the second floor and collapsed the entire stairwell onto itself.

Splinters, glass, rocks and flaming shrapnel struck the girl in the back although she hardly noticed it at all. The man who had taken her had closed his eyes and was panting as both arms fell to each side. There was glass embedded his back, both shoulders and sides of his head were scorched, his forearms were still smoking lightly.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The room was… Bland. Not that it was bad, it was just plain. She was used to sombre wood and dark brooding atmospheres. _The Pit_. This place was just… Brown. Brown bed sheets, brown walls, brown light, brown curtains. It was basic, she liked it. The man had carried her the entire way, he had gotten a terrible limp for his trouble and seemed to be in a lot of pain. When they arrived, he told her to sit while he went to the bathroom. It gave her time to look around and admire her surroundings. She didn't have anything else to do back home, besides _training_. Being able to sit and relax was pleasant in its own way.

The door to the bathroom opened, and the man looked considerably different. When she first seen him, his hair was untamed and carefree. When he rescued her from the Matou home, one side of it burnt off from the flames which looked pretty silly. Now, he looked better. To match the burnt side, he had shaved the other side of his head and trimmed the top down a tad. Some parts of it spilled over and concealed the shaved sides, but most of it continued to stick up in random directions. Bandages were wrapped around his chest, both arms and both legs. The upper bandages were stained yellowish-brown while the lower ones were stained red. The difference between burn wounds and bite wounds.

He grabbed and pulled out the chair from the only desk, settling into it slowly. They stared at one another for a moment, and it gave her time to look into his eyes. They were cold but far from being as cold as her own. There was a strange sort of peace or warmth behind that cold front. He was just like her, A warm person who came to resent the world due to circumstance. They were good eyes, unappreciated eyes.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, looking _through_ her rather than _at_ her. She shrugged, not sure how to answer such a loaded question. Did he want to know everything? How her father abandoned her - how her uncle was fighting in this stupid Grail War thing to try and save her - how Grandpa sent her to the worm pits tonight as a consequence of almost being saved last night by the same man?

"I'll get you some clothes in an hour or so. The police will be crawling through the markets right now." He stated, moving right along as if her lack of a definite answer didn't even bother him. He gradually stood from the chair and stepped to the kitchenette. He opened the fridge and withdrew a wrapped rectangle - she immediately realized what it was: Chocolate!

He pointed it towards her and both eyes widened in surprise. He was giving it to her? With a flick of his wrist, it was airborne, landing in her outstretched hands. "Have you got a name?"

She understood now, it was a bribe. "Sakura…" A bribe that worked. Carefully, she tore open the package and broke off a square.

He seemed to twitch, whether that was from her answer or from the pain of his injuries she couldn't tell. "Sakura… Matou?" He asked in assurance, getting a slight nod from the girl as she calmly broke off and ate another square. "My name's Kiritsugu Emiya." The girl was expecting something after. A 'good to meet you' or 'it's nice meeting you' although it never came.

He hummed, pulling open a drawer of the hotel's only table to withdraw a black journal. "I thought…" She paused, wondering if she could speak or not. "...Only girls have diaries."

He snorted, edges of his lips flickering upwards. "You're right. But when us boys have them, we like to call them journals." He commented absently, writing something down before closing and replacing the black book in the drawer.

There was more silence as she enjoyed small bites from the cold chocolate bar. When chocolate was cold, it brought out a flavour in the confection she wasn't used to. "You're probably wondering why I decided to rescue you." He began, receiving another wordless nod. "Maybe I've just gotten too soft, but I felt like I had to." He ended curtly, shrugging impassively.

He was lying. She could tell. His skin warmed and his eyes averted her gaze for the briefest moment. She couldn't get him to admit it, so she accepted his words anyway. "You don't have to worry, I'll keep that old man away from you."

"Zouken." She corrected instinctively, getting Kiritsugu to furrowed his brow.

"Makiri?"

A head shake. "Matou."

He made an odd humming noise. "I'll have to look into th-"

"You won't be able to stop him." Sakura continued, voice unnaturally confident.

Kiritsugu looked confused. "I've killed more mages than your Zouken has had years of life. He shouldn't be a problem." He assured.

"He won't stop until he gets the Grail."

"They say nobody will."

"He doesn't believe in Uncle Kariya. I'm supposed to be his true chance at victory in the next Grail War." She explained hollowly. While her eyes were looking towards the door, her gaze itself was somewhere off in the distance.

He paused for a while, simply examining her. "You're awfully wise for being so young. Do you know where Uncle Kariya is?"

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" She turned to look at him, heartless purple eyes staring into cold black. He blinked a couple times and scratched the side of his head.

"As far as I know, your Uncle Kariya is already dying. It's unlikely for him to survive the War." He deflected, pursing his lips a shade at her lack of reaction.

"Grandpa says Uncle Kariya is weak, that Fa-Tokiomi will win this war… Is that true?" Kiritsugu let out a long breath, closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair.

"The odds don't look good for your Uncle. Archer has a very good chance of claiming the Grail." Kiritsugu admitted. He stood with considerable effort, moving toward a bag near the side of the bed. He pulled out some fresh clothes and began to dress. He had been wearing pants of course, but the rest of him had been open to allow the bandages to settle a bit before being confined by clothing.

"I'll go get some clothes for you. Because I'll need my coat back at some point." He commented, buttoning up a black shirt and matching vest. "Just stay in the room." He guided, picking up a gun from the table and walking out the door.

Chilling silence rapidly descended over the room and Sakura found herself unsure of what to do. After a minute or so, she leapt off the bed and moved to the curtain-covered window. She had to stand on her tiptoes and even then she could barely peek over the ledge. Outside was a simple afternoon street. People shambled about on the sidewalks and cars leisurely drove down the road. She was near a park - a playground to be exact. Sakura watched the children mill about and play with one another. There wasn't anybody with purple hair out there, nobody like her. Kiritsugu's figure revealed itself beneath her.

She watched him leave the building. He must have been paranoid because he looked all around himself before moving. It was kind of impressive that he could move and operate so fluidly with the wounds he had suffered. She almost envied his resolve.

Sakura hopped off the chair, tugging up the sleeves of the coat she had been given so her hands could stick out the ends. What was this man going to do with her? Was she really safe from Zouken with him? She stepped over, opened the drawer on the table and peered in. She had to stand on her toes again, but she could just barely see the contents. The black dia- journal.

She clumsily grabbed the book and tried to pull it free. It rapidly became apparent that it was _incredibly_ heavy. She managed to free it with a bit of effort, taking it with her to the corner of the room. She sat on the floor in the corner - it was warm there - right beside the baseboard radiator. This hotel had appliances she had never seen before. The bed was familiar at least. Zouken had modernized the mansion with Western elements upon finding out how much more convenient they were. But the shower and bathtub, and the television were all new to her.

Sakura pulled her knees close, resting the heavy book against it and running her fingers along the front cover. Wonderful engravings covered the face, giving the book a loving, rich texture. The book was bound in leather, stained blacker than anything she had ever seen before. The pages within were a blend of ivory and eggshell white and several colourful pieces were sticking out throughout. Turning it over, she could see slight gaps in the pages as if something was in between them.

The first page and the girl began to read - thankful that she had learned in the first place.

… … …

 _The following describes the events of my life following December 1991. If you are reading this, I have most likely died and you have stumbled upon it after searching for something else. Throughout this journal will be a collection of my thoughts, the reasonings for my actions, the actions themselves and my dreams. -Kiritsugu Emiya_

Sakura turned the page, blinking in astonishment as the next two pages were packed with writing.

 _During early fall of 1991, I had a dream. At this point, I would call it a premonition. It revealed to me a scene from the future Grail War wherein I was duelling another member of the War. We were both wounded, a step away from death and simultaneously moving to make the last strike. While I was unable to see the end, there's little doubt we both perished in the fight. Upon waking, a name was burned into my mind: Kirei Kotomine._

 _I immediately…_

Sakura skimmed along, trying to find something a little more interesting. She skimmed each page and found stories of a little girl. Her name was Illyasviel, or as it was usually written down: Illya. It seemed that this man - Kiritsugu Emiya - was a father. Unlike the first boring part where his writing was so serious, all of these entries were recollections of what he had done with his daughter. Tea parties, adventures in the forest, games of tag or hide and seek. Motivational messages were sporadically littered throughout.

 _I fight in the War for her_ \- _I have to give Illya the best life while I'm still here - Illya deserves better, give it - If I'm gone, who will care for Illya? Failure is not an option - I do what I need to, for my daughter._

Unlike most of the entries she had skimmed, there was an incredible amount of emotion from the otherwise stoic man poured into these recountings. So much detail was laid out in his writing, it was as if she were there with the father-daughter pair in the snow-covered world of Germany. She noticed the pages in this section were well worn. The corners were soft like tissue paper, indicating they had been turned over hundreds of times. Sakura spent quite a while reading, smiling and sometimes giggling at the journal entries regarding Illya. Her mind wandered off the writings, however. She thought about her father, would he have been as caring a-

 _She had no father._

Her mind suddenly told her, and a well of emotions suddenly brewed from within. She wanted to cry, but she held back her tears. Sakura quickly flipped pages to get away from bad thoughts. Trying to clear her mind, she began reading again.

... _I had met a young girl just as I was leaving Fuyuki. Taiga Fujimura, around fourteen, if I had to guess. Based off her response and actions, she has a crush on me..._

Next. She flipped another page.

 _I had to stop on my way to the airport, my informant called and let me know Kirei Kotomine had been spotted with command seals. This means my dreams were true visions of the future, that I will die in the Grail War… Unless I can affect the ending somehow… I need to look over my old contacts..._

Sakura turned the pages, flipping over dozens of them disinterestedly until she got to a page that had colourful pieces stuck on it.

 _I've never had less faith in historical recountings until today. "King" Arthur is a little girl, barely eighteen. She's shorter than Iri, looks frail even in her armour but surrounding her is this air of… Forceful obedience. Perhaps it's just her charisma but I feel compelled to obey her orders, although I can still force this feeling down. My main concern is in how historians had been so wrong. King Arthur was supposed to be a man - a royal knighted king who ruled equally in all respects. He was to be the greatest king. If kings were said to be a step below the gods in a hierarchical sense, King Arthur was a god himself. The greatest king, the once and future king._

 _Saber being a woman does little to my plans, but it certainly demolishes my faith in history. If King Arthur was a woman, were all the Knights of the Round women? Could that even be possible? Would I discover Lancelot was in fact - female, or that Mordred, the Traitor Knight who murdered his father at Camlann, was a girl younger than this barely-legal king? I need some sleep._

There was a sticky note on one of the pages. The words were so tiny, Sakura had to squint and lean into the book heavily just to read.

 _Saber has a supposed condition. She cannot dematerialize which means she operates just like a normal human. She doesn't require food or sleep but she has to move from place to place manually and in plain sight. It's slightly inconvenient, but nothing too troublesome. I've started looking into why this is. Saber herself implies her spirit core is different in some way. Typically if a spirit core is damaged, the servant has other issues functioning beyond a lacking astral form. Saber seems honest to a fault, but honesty can be preserved with half-truths. I've asked for a snipping of her hair and I'll be running some tests on individual strands. My magecraft isn't the greatest, but I can perform basic rituals. If I can't find anything, I'll use my contacts in the Clock Tower. Provided in the back of this journal will be what remains of the hair I took. (If it even persists after she disappears) Any further revelations on the matter will be revealed there._

Sakura put her thumb on the page she was on, using her other hand to flip to the back of the book where she found an envelope pressed and taped against the back. Two sticky notes were placed here.

 _I sent strands of Saber's hair to a trusted contact in the Clock Tower. She was interested in experimenting with something beyond the scope of known familiars and agreed unconditionally. I'll have to wait until I hear more._

The writing in the second note was fresh and unfaded, written a couple weeks ago. If the date near the bottom was anything to go off of. The date was only four days ago.

 _The Clock Tower researcher came back to me with something. She confirmed that the spiritual core was entirely intact and no flaws exist. There is another reason for Saber's inability to spiritualize, hopefully, she can place exactly what it is._

Sakura flipped back to the page her thumb was on, skimming through again and finding everything was boring. She carelessly grabbed a few pages and rolled the whole section over.

 _I had another dream today. The more this continues, the more I can feel my sanity slip away. I was back in Germany, with Illya and Irisviel, in our room to be specific. They were on the bed, talking and fixing each other's hair. I came into the room, their faces were bright smiles, but I never even smirked. Illya reached me first and I…_

There were entire sentences that were scratched out by pen marks. A couple circular splotches of dried water were also spread through this section. Sakura recognized them as tears. Crying was familiar to her. Sometimes what she was working on in school had been the unfortunate victim to her emotional breakdown.

 _ **I snapped my daughter's own neck.**_

Sakura slammed the journal closed, eyes wide and heart racing. Who was this man? Her head snapped up the sound of footsteps along the carpeted hallway outside. The girl scrambled from the corner, running towards the desk to replace the book. She tripped about halfway due to the length of the coat she was wearing. It had gotten under her feet and the yank against her body unbalanced her completely. The journal went flying from her hands and landed flat on the floor with a thud. A couple crumpled old envelopes slipped from the pages and slid a couple feet away.

The girl picked herself back up and retrieved all that she had dropped - the footsteps were just outside the door now, a shadow underneath the door. Without looking, she jammed the envelopes into random spots in the journal and threw the entire book into the drawer just as the door handle turned. While the door was swinging open, she was pressing against the drawer with her back to close it and look inconspicuous in one move. The man who had saved her - Kiritsugu - entered, thankfully looking into the hall as he did. As he turned to face her, she did her best to look innocent by smiling partly. Her shoulder was pressed against the drawer, both hands in front of her with one grasping the wrist of the other.

Immediately, he squinted in silent accusation. A black garment bag was held in one of his hands. Through the transparent window, she could see something purple. He must have assumed that it was her favourite colour due to the shade of her hair and eyes. She actually liked red, beige and pink more.

"I apologize, I did not intend to be gone for so long." He mumbled. Sakura looked towards the clock hanging off a wall, noticing that two whole hours had gone by since he left. Silently, he moved to lay the bag gently on the bed. He unzipped it and pulled out a hanger. On it were two pieces of clothing, one purple and the other white. "You can use the bathroom to change." He handed her the hangar, and she tentatively took it from him. She looked down at the fabric, confused as to why he was showing her any hospitality. She looked back up to say something, but he nudged his head towards the bathroom before she could.

She did as asked, entering the bathroom to put on her new clothes. There was everything needed to make her appear and feel like a normal human being again. A white blouse and long purple skirt as well as unmentionables although there weren't any shoes. She couldn't see herself in the vanity mirror, so she tried to adjust her hair and the ribbon on her left side by touch alone. When she was ready, she left with the man's coat in her hands. She opened the door and nervously stepped out. The drawer of the desk was open and the man had his journal out again - although this time he was frowning.

He looked up and shut the journal, casually throwing it to his side and motioning for her to sit at the end as he shuffled towards the headboard. Nervously, she did as directed, using some effort to crawl up onto the bed. If this was how American children slept, it was no wonder they were so tall and wide when they grew up - it was a workout to go to sleep!

The man took his jacket from her hand and put that beside him. An awkward silence descended and she couldn't help but let her eyes flicker from the black journal to the man's face. Guilt must have been all over her features.

"How much did you read?" He coldly spoke, features free from anger - or any emotion at all in fact. It was more concerning thaan if he had been plain angry with her.

She froze, eyes widening and mouth parting. Her throat closed up and wouldn't let her speak. "I-" Was the only sound she could produce.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I have no reason to." He clarified, continuing to coldly glare through her. "You moved some things around inside, I had to put them in their rightful place but otherwise there's no harm done." He paused, still getting no response from the girl. "Care to tell me what you read?" He asked this time with a voice much softer than it had been.

Her throat cleared and her voice returned partly. "A little." She admitted, looking to one side in shame.

"Which parts?" He asked again, squinting slightly but otherwise remaining indifferent.

"The beginning and…" She tried to think, where had she even been? "The middle?"

Kiritsugu reached out and took his journal, opening it up to a random page. "Nobody else has ever seen the contents of this journal. You are the first to ever read a single word of it." He commented, flipping a page over slowly.

"You have dreams," Sakura said quietly, getting him to look up.

"I have." He replied blandly.

"Did your dreams tell you to rescue me?" Sakura peered up at him with wide eyes. He must have seen something in her face because his features softened into something almost like pity.

"Something like that." He admitted.

"You're lying." She countered bluntly, getting him to tilt his head to one side.

"You can tell that easily? Either I'm getting really bad at my job or you're very good at detecting lies." He commented. Sakura only shrugged. "What was that man Zouken, doing to you?" He asked, features re-hardening.

Sakura curled inwardly, looking around to avoid eye contact. "It's… The Matou magic." She mumbled, trying to forget about those times entirely. She never liked thinking about what was being done to her, she always tried to repress the memories and leave it at that.

"The Matou magic?" He repeated, jaw clenching. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

Sakura shook her head. "You can't kill him, Kariya told me that Zouken has been alive for cen… Cen…" She frowned, unable to remember or pronounce what Kariya had said.

"Centuries?" Kiritsugu wisely filled in the blanks.

Sakura nodded. "Five. He said many people and wizards have tried to kill Grandpa but nobody could do it." Sakura flinched when Kiritsugu snapped his fingers. How he managed to do that while wearing gloves was a mystery on its own.

"Don't call that monster your Grandpa. He's a worm, not someone who should be taking care of you." She cowered under his stern tone and he seemed to realize the result of his actions. "You've spoken about Kariya, does he visit the manor very often?" Kiritsugu asked, tone level and controlled.

Sakura held back for a bit. On one hand, he saved her from the worm pit. On the other, he was an enemy to her supposed family. But if he killed them all, she could go back to Rin. "Kariya doesn't visit very often. The last time he came by was a few days ago. Zouken told Byakuya to go away for a while, that was two days ago." Sakura mentioned off hand.

"Byakuya? Is he your brother?" Kiritsugu asked, adjusting some pillows behind himself to make his position more comfortable.

Sakura shook her head. "He's my uncle too. Kariya told me that I shouldn't call him Uncle because he's not related to me."

Based off the look on Kiritsugu's face, he was confused by the family relations. She didn't blame him, it took her some time to get all the titles right in her head. "Do you know where he went to?" Kiritsugu asked, eyes going dull.

Sakura nodded slightly. "I heard Gra- Zouken tell him where to go. It's a small home in the Shinto side of town, the northeast?"

Kiritsugu chuckled weakly. "That's a rather broad area. Were there any names or numbers he said?" The man pried.

Sakura looked upwards, thinking back and trying to remember. "One-oh-eight sixty forty-two?" She asked herself, nodding shortly after. She had been listening to her guardian's conversation. It was a secret guilty pleasure of hers and now it seemed to be paying off.

Kiritsugu must have memorized the numbers, as he hadn't written them down. "I'll have to pay him a visit." He mumbled, closing his journal.

"You're going to kill him aren't you?" Sakura asked plainly.

"I may have to, yes." He admitted. Sakura just let out a simple 'oh' and looked off towards the window.

"While I'm gone, you can read my journal. I just have to check a couple things first." He extended one hand towards her. "Can I see your hand?" He asked. When she offered, he took her left hand and looked it over a couple times. When he was done, he mumbled something under his breath in a language she didn't recognize and shock spread across his face once more. "You're... " He began, pausing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "I see, that's how he's playing this." He finished, speaking to himself. At once, the man stood and threw on his coat, adjusting it and wiping off some of the dust and soot that had stained it. Sakura took this moment to retrieve his journal so she could hold it against her chest. It was comforting to just squeeze something, and he said she could read it anyway.

"Zouken has implanted crest worms inside your body. If they can hear and understand what we've been saying I don't quite know. It's likely that he can effectively track you using these insects, so this location is no longer safe. None of them are attached to your organs yet, but hundreds of the foul things are swimming in your blood. They're feeding on you, slowly killing you like Kariya." Kiritsugu explained, moving around the room like a machine. He picked up items she hadn't even realized were with her, packing them in a bag he pulled out from beneath the bed.

Sakura looked down at herself. "I'm a worm?" She asked, touching her skin as if it were a foreign entity. Was there really a swarm of those worms squirming around inside her right now? How could she get them out?

"No, you're just a girl. There are just worms inside your body. We need to get them out." His tone was rushed and he seemed almost nervous.

"Will it hurt?"

"I won't lie to you; I don't really know for sure." He admitted, getting her to pout.

"Where are we going?" She asked, moving to the edge of the bed and leaping to the ground.

"I'm taking you to someone else who can bring you to a man who will properly deal with your affliction. I can't go myself due to… Previous events. Put on your shoes." He ordered, placing a pair of simple black shoes near the entrance mat. She did as requested, turning back to see the man put some sort of a gun into his coat.

"Do I have to?"

Kiritsugu looked at her, examining her face for a second before nodding slowly. He kneeled down to her level and offered his hand to her again. "Yes, we do. If we don't get you help, Zouken can find you and take you back to that pit. You have to trust me alright?" He asked, nudging his hand towards her. When she placed her small hand in his, he squeezed it assuringly. "You can call me Kiritsugu, I have the feeling you're going to be very important." He said with a genuine smile.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"Waver, you have a visitor!" Came Grandpa's shout from downstairs. The young boy had been conducting some magic detection exercises, seeing if he could triangulate the bases of other masters using the signatures of servants. Using his own home as a control group, he tested samples of the air, ground and water to see if servant mana signals would appear. Unfortunately, he had spent a little too much time watching Rider play a video game to actually get any substantial work done.

The beckoning from downstairs surprised him. The sun had set over the horizon and rain had begun to fall. Who would be asking for him at a time like this?

"One second!" He called back, looking towards Rider. The two held an expression of curiosity. The servant paused their game and dematerialized, following their master over his shoulder.

Down the stairs, through the kitchen - where he gave his grandparents a strange look they all reciprocated - and to the door. The rain had rapidly picked up, he could hear it begin to batter against the roof. Waver opened the door to a black figure with their head down. The rain had wet their hair which covered their face and dripped onto the ground below. He was a rather wide man, with a trench coat that was drawn around himself.

"I'm calling on my favour." He spoke, confusing the young magus. He had never seen this man before, what favour did he mean?

"What are y-" He cut off, eyes widening as the figure opened his coat and revealed a little girl. He had been using his body to protect her from the rain.

"She needs to see Risei Kotomine, he will know how to help her." The figure continued. In his mind, the booming voice of Rider spoke.

" _That's Saber's master. I don't think I want to know how long he's known about us living here._ " Waver was speechless, mouth open and eyes wide. " _Boy, you have to make a decision. Do you help him on grounds of our former agreement, or do you betray him and claim two additional command seals?_ "

Each decision had its merits. On one hand, the agreement had probably been the only thing keeping him alive so far. It had been made back at the docks when nobody had been around to invade their discussion. Through a code Rider interpreted, Saber offered a chance to work together. At the time, Waver had thought it was a simple conversation, but the words exchanged - when broken down by Rider - revealed the supposed contract. It was obvious that Saber's master knew much more about him than vice versa. How many times had this man lined up a shot on his head only to turn away at the last second? "What's wrong with her?" He decided on asking, trying to gather more information before committing either way.

"The Matou's have taken her and implanted crest worms within her body, are you familiar?"

"Crest Worms… You can't be serious, that means whoever you're trying to hide her from knows where she is!" Waver blurted out, looking around outside on instinct. "The last time crest worms were seen was over three hundred years ago by someone named Zolgen Makiri. He was one of the founders who created the Grail War, but he's been dead for centuries." Waver was staring at the little girl who seemed rather empty inside. It wasn't as if the lights were on but nobody was home, more like the lights were _off_ and someone was _hiding_ inside.

"How do you know so much about this?" The man asked, ruffling the hair of the girl in front of him passively, she hardly seemed to acknowledge the act.

"When I was researching the Grail War before I summoned my servant, I discovered The origins. Essentially, it's a massive ritual created by three families, you should be familiar with one. The Makiri, Tohsaka and Einzbern clans worked in tandem to develop the system we're fighting under. When I dug further, I found specific names: Zolgen Makiri, Nagato Tohsaka and Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern. They were apparently friends of one another until greed wedged them apart and this competition began. I couldn't find much after that, all the recordings were burnt or torn apart." Waver wisely recounted, getting a firm lack of response from the dark figure.

"You are more informed than I believed you to be." He stated.

"H-hey! What's that supposed to mean!?" Waver shouted defensively.

The girl looked between the two, curious what all the shouting was about.

"Are you going to assist the girl or not?" He asked simply.

"You're not even going to tell me your name and you want me to risk my neck saving a girl from one of the founding families?" Waver asked, huffing in exhaustion.

"Names have nothing to do with this." Kiritsugu cut in. "The longer we stand around, the easier it is for whoever uses these crest worms to discover where you're residing." He pointed out, getting the young Brit to flinch.

Rider materialized outside behind the black figure. "Then we had best get moving!" He boomed with a wide, closed eye smile. Leave it to Rider to decide for him. In a flash, his blade was withdrawn and thrust to the sky. "Gordius Wheel!" He shouted, blade splitting the sky with a slash. Lightning crackles and the sound of bulls filled the air. A chariot of iron and wood flew from the sky, carried by two bulls adorned lovingly in crimson and gold. It was familiar to Waver at this point, but the beauty of it was still something to marvel.

"Risei can be found at the remains of the church, show him the girl - he'll know what to do." Saber's master assured, peering up towards Waver.

This strange man looked like he had been drug through hell - twice. Deep, dark bags creased his black eyes. The signs of dishevelled stubble covered his jaw, come to think of it, even his hair looked shabby. Patches were burnt, sections were missing and it seemed to be very poorly cut. The strands of black hair across his rain-speckled face revealed he was losing that hair as well. Although impolite, Waver grimaced involuntarily.

He turned around and grabbed onto an umbrella in the entranceway. "Gramps, I'll be going for a bit!" He called back, getting an acknowledgement from within. Grandma instructed him to put on a coat so he wouldn't catch a cold.

Waver opened the umbrella and handed it to the small girl who took it while Kiritsugu stepped away. "I'll deliver her to Risei, I suppose you want her back after he's done his job?" Waver asked, getting a stern nod from Saber's master. "Alright, well she'll be here. Is there any way I can reach you?"

"I'll come to you, I will know when she's returned." He assured, further scaring Waver.

What else could he say? If he declined or did something now - he was surely going to be put into this man's sights. Waver heard what the Overseer had said. This man in black had no qualms with demolishing a church using heavy explosives just to eliminate a master. He was probably the one who killed El-Melloi too. How he managed, Waver didn't want to know. Kayneth was cocky and arrogant, but his efficiency in magecraft was definitely potent. "I'll do as you ask, but no more favours. The next time I see you, I won't hesitate in killing you for those command seals." The Brit declared, getting a snort from the man. Was it because he didn't believe Waver could kill him?

"That's fine. I don't expect anything else." He agreed, casually stepping down the path to leave. Waver watched him go, curious about the true nature of the man. He had heartlessly killed two men alone, he was the specified target with a literal bounty on his head but he took time away to help a broken little girl.

Waver offered his hand to the little girl. He led her to the chariot where Rider lifted her up inside. Waver followed, kneeling down when he was inside to get his head beneath the level of the umbrella the girl was carrying. "What's your name sweetheart?" He asked, getting a doe-eyed look from the girl. "Right, you probably don't speak English." He said, smacking his forehead.

Rider piped up suddenly. "Little girl, what is your name? My master cannot speak Japanese." A snap of the reigns accompanied the end of his words, the chariot flew into the air and turned towards the church. The passengers hardly seemed to notice it had taken flight.

"Sakura." She responded quietly.

"Tell her it's a pretty name." Waver ordered, and his servant did. Her eyes seemed to sparkle a touch before a rose blush came over her cheeks and she looked away.

She spoke and Rider laughed heartily. "W-what did she say?" He asked several times as his servant continued laughing. Eventually, he calmed down and wiped his face from the tears his excitement brought.

"She said: Aren't you a little old to be going after girls as young as her?" The laughter resumed as Waver's face turned a bright red.

"T-tell her it's not like that! I'm not some sort of- Hey! Don't you believe me!?" He shouted, standing and banging his fists against Rider's back as continued laughing.

… … …

… … …

… … …

It was destroyed, everything he had worked for in Fuyuki - gone due to his own mistakes. There was no one else to blame of course. He couldn't blame the perpetrator - he couldn't blame his " _friends"_ or " _family"_. He had simply underestimated the competition.

Kariya arrived. He had obviously taken his sweet time in getting here. "Is Sakura alright?" He asked as soon as he could. How useless, a man on the brink of death concerned with the lives of some stupid girl from another family. How could someone so idiotic be a part of the Matou family? Such wasted potential.

"No, she's not you ignorant waste. While you were trying to figure out the best way to strike the Tohsaka manor, someone kidnapped Sakura and demolished the house - as you may not have even noticed with your limited sense of perception." His words were scathing, ruthless, but entirely true. A drop of rain struck his son in the face.

"You bastard-" Kariya began, clenching his fists and stepping forwards. Zouken used his cane to pull that leg out from underneath him. The already half-functioning man collapsed on his bad leg and fell onto his shoulder. He cried in pain from the impact on his dead side. Veins in his face and neck bulged and _squirmed_. Zouken smirked, his rage would kill him - and soon. Berserker was drawing too much mana. This, coupled with the emotionally sensitive worms, limited his lifespan to a matter of days, possibly only hours.

"Once again, your ignorance of the situation leads to your downfall. It seems to be a reoccurring theme." Zouken looked towards the still blazing wreck of his former home. In the distance, sirens alerted to the explosions closed in. Who would have expected something crazy like this to be done in broad daylight? Kidnapping, use of explosive ordinance, wandering directly into the home of a well-known magus? It was lunacy! This man fit the title of Berserker better than Kariya's servant.

"Who did it." Kariya coughed, shambling to his feet. His anger was _barely_ under control. Rain began to patter the streets and sizzle in the blaze.

"The master of Saber." Zouken commented idly. "Kiritsugu Emiya, the Magus Killer."

"Saber was involved in this? Why did your worms not stop her?" He asked through gritted teeth, breath raspy. Zouken's worms were incredibly effective against magical entities. Seeing as how servants were simply familiars, his worms could make short work of a servant even as powerful as Saber or Archer.

"He came alone."

"What!? _How?_ Why didn't you stop him?" Kariya gripped at his ashen hair, yanking upwards rough enough to tear out chunks.

"You and I share one thing at least," Zouken mumbled. "I had not expected such force from a simple man. Nor was I expecting him to use explosives and magically enhanced grenades to debilitate my forces. He entered and left in less than five minutes. I barely mobilized the reserve worms before he had left and collapsed the basement on the whole lot of them." Zouken explained, watching a smaller explosion toss some rubble skywards. His study was less developed and complex than most mages, but he held onto some rather volatile stuff. It had actually helped Saber's master demolish his own home, ironic.

"Where is he?" Kariya growled as the hatred and vengeance burned brighter in his eyes. "I'll gut him for laying a finger on Sakura."

Zouken's face split into a smile. It was a smile more befitting of a nightmarish creature than a human. His son was playing directly into his hands. "I have a better idea. Yesterday, Saber's master stored a worm into a jar…" He led on, testing the intelligence of his son by seeing if he could fill in the blanks. The empty, angry gaze he got was enough to show that Kariya held the grand intelligence of a potted house plant. Zouken sighed. "I can use the location of the worm to determine the location of their stronghold."

Kariya's face seemed to soften, if only slightly. "Can't you do the same for Sakura?"

Zouken shook his head. "Usually I could, however, those worms are within her body, which means they are no longer under my immediate control. Had I access to my workshop…" He paused, turning his head to look at the steadily growing bonfire. ".. I could have located her. The worms currently within her aren't attuned to me, you see. They are also in no position to directly interfere with the girl's mind or actions."

"Thankfully she's too young to have your worms stuck where they don't belong." Kariya shot back, fury growing in his eyes.

"Even though having them there would have prevented her from being kidnapped." Zouken countered, snarling back at his disrespectful son.

"The less influence you have on her the better, it will make her life as a Tohsaka easier to return to." Kariya snarled back, pointing an accusatory finger at his father.

Zouken merely hmph'ed. "Do you want to get her back or not?" He asked simply.

"Tell me where to go," Kariya responded almost instantly, eyes blazing with fury. Zouken could only smile. Kariya would die attacking Saber's home, but that was precisely what Zouken wanted.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"Maiya, Irisviel! A servant is inbound!" Saber shouted, armour and weapon appearing instantly. In a blaze of silver and blue, she made to the front door.

Maiya's head snapped up from the nap she was taking. Those concussions had given her a sense of restlessness like nothing other. "Run interference, get the servant away from the house!" The Assassin shouted, moving from the desk to shake the sleeping Irisviel awake. "We must go, we are under attack. Iri, please-" She urged, but the homunculus would not open her eyes. Maiya checked her breathing and verified she was still alive.

Outside, a cry of exertion before a large explosion shook the home. Distant clashes of metal screeched over the rumble. The jostling of an explosive shockwave was enough to startle the German woman and wake her. "Maiya? Are we under attack?"

"Yes, you need to put on a coat, we're leaving."

"But our home-"

"Saber will lead the threat away, ensuring your safety is key to our success." Maiya guaranteed, leaving Irisviel's side to grab her coat. She threw the article towards the sleeping woman, moving around the room to gather both bags she had prepared earlier. "Kiritsugu foresaw this happening after he was bountied by the Overseer. All important documentation has been packed." Maiya threw two bags over her shoulders. She assumed Irisviel would be unable to carry her own.

"I see, where are we going?" Irisviel asked, slipping the coat over her slim shoulders while sitting in bed. She was wearing thicker pyjamas than the ones at the Einzbern castle, linen in pure white. When she tried to stand from the bed, she collapsed on the ground with a thud. She feebly lifted herself off the ground, face dazed and confused. Which one of them had the concussion?

"Irisviel!" Maiya moved to her with some alarm, helping the woman up before electing to simply carry her instead. While Maiya was a thin woman, the condition and training Kiritsugu put her through had made her quite strong - and her stamina surpassed even her mentor's.

"I'm sorry," Irisviel whispered, eyes closed and body going limp in the assassin's arms.

"You are succumbing to the call of the Grail." Maiya pointed out curtly. There was a silent, foreboding " _you will die soon_ " that looked in her words. The Assassin carried the woman out of her room and towards the front door. Outside, rain began to fall as the early evening settled into place. It was dark outside, just enough to obscure fine details.

"Every day, my strength fades. I didn't want to admit it to Kiritsugu or Saber, but it seems I can't hide it any longer."

"You must remain strong, Irisviel. Have faith in your husband - hold out until you can see him again." Maiya instructed, eyes snapping around, ensuring their safety as the two moved into the street. It was pouring rain, Maiya shivered as the cold water soaked straight through her clothes. Irisviel would be alright for the most part, her coat fended off water much better than Maiya's suit. Behind in the distance a large explosion, followed by several hundred gunshots, echoed. Partway down the street, Maiya halted.

There was a man up ahead, leaning on one side heavily. A moment of silence ensued as the just stared at one another. "Why did you let him capture Sakura?" He asked dimly.

Who was Sakura? Maiya didn't bother asking. This must have been Kariya Matou, his silhouette didn't match any of the other masters. If it was him, he was most likely deranged at this point. Collaring and trying to hold back Berserker would do that to a man. Maiya was at a slight disadvantage, she couldn't fight back with bags on her back and a woman in her arms. Her only choice was to run, but a sudden droning buzz revealed that wasn't an option either. From ahead, came a swarm of bugs that assembled into a dark cloud.

Maiya's mind tried to devise a plan which would ensure both of their survival. So far, nothing would work. Maiya kneeled and gently laid the sleeping Irisviel on the road. "What reason do you have to attack two girls? What purpose does this serve to strike at a master's family?"

"You filthy hypocrite!" He spat out. The man sounded one step away from death, voice raspy and forced but still full of emotion.

"What are you talking about?" Maiya asked, standing defiantly in the middle of the street, prepared to grab her gun at a moment's notice.

"The master of Saber walked straight into my father's home. He stole a little girl from within and blew everything up as he was leaving." Kariya summarized. It certainly sounded like Kiritsugu. He was known to pull bold stunts. He must have had good reason to kidnap the girl.

She could play stupid and see how that went, or she could excommunicate and condemn Kiritsugu's actions to try and join his side.

"I never knew. Kiritsugu left us shortly after the Overseer's message. He even went so far as to try killing his wife with poison before fleeing. She is lucky I was able to stop him." Maiya revealed, lying for her life. If she could be sure an attack would hit, she wouldn't need to do all this senseless talking.

"You're saying you don't know anything about this..?" Kariya asked, voice gentler than it had been. He brought one hand up against his head, shaking it thoroughly as if to rid himself of thoughts. "It doesn't matter, he cared for you at one point, maybe your death will make him realize how ignorant he is, now go!" He shouted, throwing a hand forwards.

Maiya's hands snapped to her belt line, pulling out two pistols - mismatched - which fired as soon as they were brought up. Even with her accuracy being far from on point, the bugs behind him moved to block the bullets with their own bodies. When all rounds in both magazines had been expended, she reached towards the bags on her back to withdraw a Mac-10. She had stolen it from a Yakuza member who had been too nosey back in 1993. Unmarked guns like this were good finds, no matter what anyone else said. With the much higher rate of fire, the bugs couldn't keep up to the volley and Kariya leapt to the ground to avoid being struck by stray rounds.

Her actions were buying time, but only a flamethrower could effectively keep the insects at bay. Irisviel could perform fire magic, but she was unconscious. If only Kiritsugu was here, he would know what to do. He could get out of this easily.

But… Maiya knew exactly what she had to do. The gun in her hands clicked empty and she autonomously pulled the bags off her shoulders. The bugs were regrouping, she wouldn't have long to act - seconds at most. Unzipping a bag, she picked up two high explosive grenades from within. With slight contortion of the fingers, both pins were yanked free simultaneously.

Maiya began sprinting straight towards the still recovering man, dodging insect and outright punching some to get close to Kariya. Black slime coated her fists from the bugs, it burnt against her skin like weak acid. When she was within a dozen feet, a larger swarm flew directly towards her. She only had one option. Mustering up what strength she could, the assassin dove directly through the swarm, expanding her fingers partly in the process to release both spoons of the grenades. The velocity of her dive allowed her to pierce through the bug-cloud and with a cry of pain she landed on top of Kariya.

The wings of each bug were like individual knife blades. Essentially, Maiya had just jumped straight through a bundle of razor wire that additionally had teeth. From head to toe, her body was lacerated with cuts and bites which began bleeding profusely. On blood loss alone, she wouldn't last more than an hour.

The assassin wrapped her arms around the man's neck, feeling something bulging against her from beneath his skin. She was disgusted but didn't allow that to disrupt her motions.

"N-No!" He grunted, trying to pry her arms free with one of his own. "S-Sakura!" He yelled out, voice full of regret and sorrow. Maiya positioned her hands - still holding live grenades - beside his head, pressing the cold steel against his temples as she used her weight and legs to keep him from squirming. Her head looked up, verifying the bugs weren't going to tear her apart. They would eventually, but it would be too late by then. In the distance, she saw something stir.

It was Kiritsugu. He had most likely come after Saber engaged Berserker. He was watching her, eyes glazed and mouth open like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He didn't cry, she was thankful for that at least. She wasn't worth his tears. She tried her best to give him a genuine smile, happy she could have assisted him in this life, hopeful she could do it again in another.

"Thank you, si-

… … …

The Magus killer could only watch. Maiya was committing suicide to eliminate Berserker's master all to keep him from Iri. Saber had informed Kiritsugu at the same time as Maiya, but his distance at the Waver residence had delayed him until now. He arrived to watch her grapple with the half-dead Kariya. If he had been at the hotel, if he hadn't of had to deliver Sakura - he would have been here sooner. The brief moment of eye contact shared more words than their mouths could have. Regret, sorrow, thankfulness, fulfillment, _happiness_. She was completing her goal in life, the goal she decided on herself after being saved.

He had never once directed her into his line of work. Not once had he suggested she become an assassin. While deciding what to do with her, she suggested it herself. She was a sex slave, purchased from an Asian country and shipped to Istanbul. He had rescued her after breaking up the massive trafficking operation which had been growing ambitious. She was the only one they hadn't managed to murder before he could kill them all. Standing in the doorway of the cell, he was reminded of himself when he was young - when Natalia happened across him on Alimango Island. She had given him a second chance, she had cared for him and when the time was right, he had done what she could not. Maybe she would do the same? Maiya had no memories of her former life, Kiritsugu had actually given her the name and tried to discern where she came from, who might have been her family. Kiritsugu had found the 'receipt' of her purchase although it did little to actually humanize her. She was a soldier in an army at one point. Unfortunately, she had been cast aside, abused and raped by her own country's people. She was captured by a group known as the "Outriders" and the trail of trafficking exploded from there.

The two worked to cover one another's weaknesses. Where Kiritsugu had the skills and experience, his humanity prevented some actions - occasionally. Maiya lacked skills and experience, but her total absence of humanity, void of emotions, allowed her to commit and convince Kiritsugu to follow through with despicable acts.

Now, the girl he had saved, the woman he had trained, the friend he had worked alongside and confessed his secrets to like Irisviel - was a mess of body parts and red mist. She was resolute to the end and the face she had given him seemed at peace. He could find slight ease in that.

Kiritsugu set his jaw. He would have checked in with Saber had he not decided that doing so would likely distract her. Instead, he leapt from his position and walked along the street towards the scene. Caster had lied, Caster had told him straight to his face that Maiya would always live. Could that servant have been any crueller? Imbuing him with hope only so it could be stripped away. Kiritsugu himself wasn't even that heartless.

He stopped at the two mutilated bodies. When Kariya died, the bugs had either exploded themselves or flown off into the night. Kicking the two corpses apart, he searched through his former assistant's pockets. He removed her pistols, the wallet he had given her, and something interesting. It might not have been anything to a common observer, but Kiritsugu withdrew an oddly shaped piece of metal. It was polished lovingly, but scarring and wear lined its surface. He rolled it around in his gloves slowly.

It was a hammer. Not the tool, but the part of a gun. Kiritsugu recognized it as being specifically for his Contender. Years ago, he had thought he lost it and simply ordered another one. To know that she held onto it this entire time…He stuffed all he had taken into his pockets, waving his hand to set the two bodies on fire.

The types of flames for each body was different. Blue, smokeless, scentless flames enveloped the former assassin. The rain didn't sizzle as it struck these flames, but it did upon touching the hot, bright orange flames which rapidly charred the worm user. Streaming into the sky was a thick black smoke that had an indescribable smell. A peaceful send off, compared to a grisly display of anger.

Kiritsugu allowed the two corpses to burn, gathering the discarded bags before picking up his sleeping wife. She was much colder than he remembered, but that could have been from the rain. Her breathing came in shallow fits and her eyes flittered beneath the eyelids. It was no doubt the work of the Grail. It was time to move her to her final resting place. That meant he would need to say his goodbyes. Was he prepared to lose two people he cared about so suddenly?

The Magus Killer closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath to calm his nerves. No more questions, his path was still clear. An explosion in the distance turned his head briefly. It had originated from the south-west. Kiritsugu could only guess Saber was heading towards the open area near Ryuudou Temple. Being in the open would eliminate the amount of material Berserker could get his hands on, his potential would decrease drastically.

Maiya had left the car a couple houses away, storing in an alleyway where its position would be overlooked. Kiritsugu started walking down the street, doing his best to keep his wife dry in the rain. He decided to begin jogging, trying to further reduce her exposure. He reached the car and placed his wife inside carefully before settling in himself to drive.

The car started, and he began a speedy nighttime drive to the Fuyuki Civic Center on the other side of town. He would have to secure and prepare the area alone. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more interference for tonight - although he had the feeling he had just jinxed himself.

… … …

… … …

Saber barred her teeth, locking her sword against a piece of pipe. "What sort of knight fights with mere objects picked up from the ground?" She huffed, forcing her arms outwards to unbalance the black beast that was Berserker. Her arms twisted following the parry. Her blade tried to claim her opponent at the shoulder. He was faster than she was - there was no denying that. He leapt from the attack but re-engaged once her blade was down and his feet had found purchase in the dirt below. One handing the large section of blackened pipe, he came in at her side, twisting and contorting his body to accelerate the weapon even further. Unable to move away, she simply followed the impact to lessen the damage. With a brutal cracking crunch, she was hit along the side of her chest.

She flew further out away from the city, grimacing in pain while rolling into a recovery. The knight was upon her as she stood, delivering several blows she blocked purely on instinct.

"Aaarrr-uurrr!" It screamed, unrelenting in its slashing strikes. Saber merely grit her teeth and tried to keep up, just barely managing that. She continued stepping backwards, moving further and further into the less developed area surrounding Ryuudou Temple. There was nothing here for Berserker to use against her. Before, she had to worry about him picking up a _car_ and using it in combat. Berserker had used a large calibre weapon against her in the beginning of their fight. It fired rounds at both an incredible speed and rate, using multiple spinning barrels to accomplish this feat. Each bullet had been absolutely deadly. They were on another level entirely when compared to Kiritsugu's bullets. The difference was like that between a pistol bullet and a tank round.

The two knights locked blades again, sparks of crimson, blue and gold illuminating their faces. "Why do you hold such resentment towards me, Knight? Your strikes are filled with hatred, your actions with anger. Berserker or not, you were proud at one point. What have I done to slight you?" Saber was trying to reason with a Mad Knight, perhaps she was the insane one here. In her mind, she knew her words were futile - but she desired answers.

The knight screamed with more rage while resuming his barrage. He was sloppier this time, she could see a flaw in his motions. When he made backhanded swings, the "hilt" of his pipe dragged just enough to leave him open. Saber darted backwards, parrying one blow to force him to make a backhanded swing - should he continue his attack.

Stumbling right into her trap, the knight swung as expected and Saber thrust in response. Her blade struck precisely where she wanted to, but her eyes widened as the Knight grabbed onto the invisible sword before it could find purchase. A pulse of energy flowed through the blade and into Saber herself. The power behind it forced her to grit her teeth and close one eye. The air around the blade wavered with uncertainty before it exploded outwards violently. Brilliant gold flashed for a second before the shine faded and began to darken. Saber couldn't believe her eyes. This servant's ability to corrupt was so great that it was converting an artifact of the Fae? He could see her blade?

Anger at the besmirchment of her prized blade flowed through her. Releasing her right, gauntleted hand from her weapon's grip, she reared her fist back and nailed the knight in the helmet. The innate strength within her, coupled with an elevated mana burst, threw the servant backwards into a tumble.

She may have gotten a bit _too_ angry. There was an absurd amount of force behind that blow, Saber was actually surprised Berserker had retained his head. By the way he was grasping at his face with his back towards her, she had probably shattered his helmet.

Excalibur flickered, like a light that was about to go out. Grasping onto her blade with both hands, Saber pumped an absurd amount of reserve mana into the weapon. The shine returned into its sun-like radiance and then some. It had returned to the brilliance she was familiar with. Saber let out a sigh of relief, thankful that it hadn't been tainted.

Berserker stood and cracked his neck, turning to face Saber who rapidly took on the appearance of a ghost upon seeing Berserker's partly revealed face. "No.."

"Aaaarrrthhuu-" He growled. It was... He was… She had…

It was Lancelot. She could recognize that face anywhere. He appeared aged and reminded her of a starved, caged animal. Gaunt, with sunken dark eyes and shatter-sharpened teeth. It explained why he was so focused on her, it explained how he could combat her as if he knew her every move, it was how he could manipulate a blade as powerful as Excalibur.

"Arrronndiiight!" Berserker howled, holding his open hand to the sky. All at once, a blade of deep purple formed in his grasp, the scraps of his helmet which remained broke away, and his defining features revealed themselves al that more clearly. No longer was his armour shrouded with an inky black void, it had cleared up and allowed the intricate engravings to bathe in the moonlight and rain.

Fear settled into Saber's gut. She would have to fight and kill her friend, who happened to be someone she genuinely feared in combat. Arondight was a blade she knew all too well. It was a sister to Excalibur, only better in each way. It was well known that Lancelot was greater than herself in combat. With Arondight, his abilities outclassed her in the same way a car was faster than a dog. As if the imbalanced levels of power wasn't enough, Arondight had a natural anti-dragon ability. Each strike against her would deal damage, no matter where it struck.

The dragon within her screamed to flee, although her training as a knight ordered her to finish this fight. "Lancelot… Why? What has driven you to such hatred?" Saber asked quietly, hardly noticing the tears which began to slip from her eyes.

… … …

… … …

The Civic Center was as he expected - empty. Each footstep echoed through the rooms and halls, adding an eerie edge to the building. Kiritsugu climbed the wooden steps to the main stage, settling his wife on a large table directly in the center. As far as he knew, this was supposedly a musical auditorium type room. It was on the second floor, as the first floor and the basement were both in a state of deconstruction and were devoid of almost everything.

Kiritsugu kneeled, brushing wet hair from Iri's face. "Three servants, at least you're still here." He mumbled, running his thumb underneath her eye to wipe away a raindrop. He leaned his head down to press against the cool surface she was laying on, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply to control himself.

"Did you…" A voice came to his ears, and his head snapped up with hope. Crimson eyes cooly graced his own. They were dull, lacking their usual shine and joy. "Think I would leave without a goodbye?" She chuckled, although it turned into a weak cough. She shakily lifted a hand which Kiritsugu grasped and squeezed tightly.

"Iri…" He choked, staring hopelessly into her eyes. What was there to say? He was never good with goodbyes and certainly not good with loss. There was always so much to say but no time or reason to say it. "I'm sorry." He settled on, it was the only thing that came to mind.

"For what?" She asked, blinking slowly.

He didn't actually know… His emotions were in such a state of disarray, all he could feel was sorrow and despair. "I…" He tried to speak but failed again.

"Is Maiya alright?" She whispered.

Kiritsugu paused, there was no reason to worry her at this point. "Yes, she killed Kariya Matou. I got there as she finished the job." He lied. Her hand lightly urged against his. If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed the slight pressure. He followed where she was pushing, leading her hand to his face. When her skin touched his, he closed his eyes and tears involuntarily sneaked through the cracks.

"This is my destiny, we knew it was coming. You have done so well." She consoled, crying herself. "Take care of Illya, she needs you to be strong. Don't blame yourself for deaths you can't stop." Iri managed to get out, Kiritsugu watched her eyes, the light behind them was fading, her body was slipping. It was a slow, peaceful death that he hoped had no pain.

Kiritsugu continued holding her hand as it fell limp, gently placing both her hands on her chest so she could lie peacefully. He cried freely now, not allowing himself to collapse into a sniffling wreck, but letting the tears stream naturally.

His wife had succumbed to the Grail. He had expected her to be able to survive the energy of three servants, but the extended amount of time fighting the Grail must have worn her resistance down.

Something bubbled in his throat, a shout of anguish. Kiritsugu forced it down, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. There was so much bottled inside, so much that needed to be released. The last time he had broken down in tears and screamed at the world had been on a boat - in the harbour, holding a stinger. A guttural sound emerged from his throat. A noise full of pain and anguish that bounced through the acoustically perfected auditorium. His own cry came back to him several times and lingered even after the Magus Killer had finished. His head fell limp between his arms, shaking occasionally at the futility of it all.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Saber, most likely. It squeezed assuringly. Kiritsugu banged his hands on the pedestal, closing his eyes slowly so he could take a break away from his senses. After nearly a minute of silence, Kiritsugu sniffled once and spoke. "Is Berserker dead?" He asked. Saber had made short work of the servant, he must have been more bark than bite.

"How do I know?" Came a rough male voice. With the jolt of surprise running through him, Kiritsugu shot up while lifting his elbow to clip the speaker under the jaw. It worked, and the now identified Caster recoiled backwards two steps from the blow. "I see you're not the easily consoled type." He remarked, rubbing his chin. On a servant, that blow probably felt like a tickle.

"What are you doing here?" He growled, anger taking over the depression that had consumed him.

"Ensuring the pieces fall into place." He stated, hands moving to his back.

"You lied to me." Kiritsugu accused, pointing towards the servant. In response, they tilted their head to one side. "You told me Maiya would survive the War. Because of that, I neglected to provide any assistance as I had faith she would be alright." He admitted, blaming himself as much as the servant. Caster only chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but hearing you blame yourself for something that was willingly done _for_ you is amusing." Caster took two steps forward, standing right beside Irisviel.

Kiritsugu's train of thought crashed into a wall, only one thought dominated his mind. "Get away from her!" He growled like an animal, reaching into his coat and withdrawing the Contender.

Caster slowly raised both hands in surrender, taking two large steps back to where he had begun. "As you wish. I only ask you lower that weapon as a sign of mutual respect."

Kiritsugu hesitated, gun shaking slightly before he let the arm fall to his side. He gave the situation a thought. This Caster wasn't the one who helped him in his dreams, this Caster seemed more shrewd than the dream Caster. If the memory of his dream was accurate, if Kiritsugu wanted this Caster dead - he would mention Sakura Matou and Rin Tohsaka. What about them was so important? Why would it cause him to die? "Who is Sakura Matou?" He blurted out, mouth moving before his mind decided. He had to gain control over himself. He had a job to do and promises to keep.

Caster flinched. "How do you know that name?" He menaced, voice taking on a dark tone. It was like he had flipped a switch. Before, he was calm and confident but now he was barely holding back anger.

"I saved her from an old man," Kiritsugu told the truth.

"What do you mean _saved_? Simply taking her away from him cannot _save_ her." He growled. Their emotions had flipped, their positions swapped in an instant.

"I was unaware." He lied. He knew full well that leaving her as she was would cause nothing but trouble - it was why he had gotten her delivered to Risei.

"He'll come for her, and your actions will simply make him torture her more. You've single-handedly sentenced her to death!" He shouted, shivering in anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" His arms came to his sides and his hands clenched into fists.

"Precisely. I've determined your soft spot." He stated simply. Kiritsugu's face was rigid neutrality. Caster made a noise and stopped twitching.

"You… You know of her condition?"

"None of the specifics, but yes. The situation has been handled by Risei Kotomine." He replaced the Contender tentatively within his coat, doubting it would be required against the servant now. It hadn't even done anything the first time it hit him.

Caster was silent for a while, shoulders relaxing gradually over time. "You're more resourceful than I could have ever imagined." He laughed hollowly. "Master, it's time." Caster stated, putting the Magus Killer on edge. Limes was here?

"You got it, good buddy! Hey Kiritsugu, this War ends tonight. You and I are going to fight up here while Caster handles the other servants. We've got Archer on the way, and Rider has said he'll be along shortly. I'm guessing Saber is coming after she beats Berserker so that makes…" He counted up the number of servants on his fingers like a child. "Four! With three dead that adds up to seven. So get on up here you sneaky bastard."

Kiritsugu looked up. Limes was on the second level of the auditorium, a high area which featured narrow, dimly lit paths. He looked towards Caster. "And If I refuse?"

"Then I'll be forced to accelerate the creation of the Grail by drawing blood. As it stands, Irisviel is still alive and doesn't need to be killed - but if you'd rather see her body disfigured and disgraced by shoddy bladesmanship, be my guest." Caster resolved, shrugging passively.

Kiritsugu grit his teeth. He had no choice then, even with more than half of the servants remaining, the Grail War would conclude tonight. "Allow me to aid your travels, and ensure you do not try to strike from the shadows as you are known to do." Caster gestured with one arm. Swords of every design and shape appeared out of thin air. They latticed together and made a gentle sloping ramp towards the second floor.

The pieces suddenly came together in his mind. The reason Caster could defeat Archer so easily was because Archer and Caster had similar noble phantasms. Both could create innumerable weapons on a whim. This creation ability was the reason both Caster and Limes had matching, defensive cloaks. How Limes had so many mystic codes during their battle at Ryuudou Temple. The main difference between Archer and Caster lied in the creation of the weapons themselves. While all of Archer's weapons were real physical blades, Caster's blades were created using pure mana. The only reason Kiritsugu had noticed they were 'fake' was because he had decided to analyze the weapons. Kiritsugu glanced towards Caster, who urged them to move with a gesture.

The Magus Killer walked the path of blades. He vaulted the balustrade and turned to face Limes who was hopping on his toes in excitement. Both gloved hands were raised to fight. Glancing towards the center of the auditorium, Kiritsugu noticed the blade ramp had vanished and that Caster was laying his hand over Irisviel's.

Kiritsugu wanted to say something, but before he could - the noise of Limes moving towards him stripped away his attention.

It began with a right hook. Kiritsugu leaned back, under the swipe, hands snapping up to grasp Limes' arm by the forearm and bicep. Rather than pull, yank or try and break the arm - Kiritsugu pushed back, placing his foot behind the ankle of his opponent. Limes tripped and fell backwards onto the ground, but with the reactions of a snake, Limes caught Kiritsugu's hand. His falling weight sent the Magus Killer forwards and both of Limes' legs planted themselves in Kiritsugu's gut. Rolling over his shoulder to carry through, the masked man tossed Kiritsugu down the pathway.

He landed on his back, huffing out a breath while standing back up. Limes was there again, sending a spinning kick towards his shoulders. Kiritsugu raised both arms into a cross, forcing Limes' leg away. As he recovered, Kiritsugu stepped into his space. A punch rang out towards the lower ribs. The first contacting blow, making a crunch as it collided. It hadn't been the sound of bones breaking, but of ceramic plating in Limes' vest shattering upon impact.

Limes took this moment of surprise to land his own strike, punching Kiritsugu in the liver and dropping the Magus Killer to his knees. It wasn't often that he played this dirty, but the situation was called for. Grimacing through the shooting pain of a liver punch, Kiritsugu snapped an arm up to strike Limes right where it hurt.

Unlike the Magus Killer himself, Limes neglected to wear a cup. Howling in pain, he too dropped to his knees. They were on the same level and in the same unfortunate position. Rearing his head back and summoning a warrior's cry, Kiritsugu slammed his forehead into Limes' mask. His vision blurred and instantly his cranium shrieked in pain, but the mask had been cracked and disorientation was clearly evident.

Kiritsugu used the other man's shoulders to stand, hefting himself up and then moving one hand to grip the black hair which had revealed itself when his hood fell down from the headbutt. He reared the masked man's head back, slamming it into the stone balustrade just to their side. Another satisfying crack as more of the mask shattered. Kiritsugu could see his forehead now - not that it was much to go off of. Blood from his earlier attack dripped down into the Magus Killer's eye. He was forced to close it to stop the searing pain the air caused.

Limes took the momentary lapse in action to rise and uppercut the Magus Killer along the way. Stumbling backwards, the two paused to catch their breath. Kiritsugu reached into his coat, withdrawing a combat knife. Limes did the same, only his blade was pulled from the back of his vest.

The two simultaneously gathered their stamina, taking one last deep breath before resuming their tirade. Using trained motions, the two thrust, slashed and parried one another like their moved were choreographed. It was almost as if they were trained by the same person in bladed combat, as each of their motions entirely countered the other. A thrust slapped upwards, a retaliatory slash halted by a forearm. It rapidly became a competition of stamina, that was until Kiritsugu played his ace.

" _ **Time Alter: Double Accel!**_ " Came the mental shout, and time responded. Kiritsugu's next strike was too fast to follow in their blade-routine. It slipped past Limes' guard and landed in the soft, unfriended part of his torso. The time alteration ended, and a satisfying scream came from the masked man. The blade had been placed closer to the side, where there was little in the way of protection.

"You son-of-a-bitch." He cursed, throwing his knife upwards. "Caster!" He shouted. The knife stopped spinning in mid-air, pointed itself towards Kiritsugu and fired. The Magus Killer could hardly react, surprised and I'm expecting, he twisted to try and get out of the weapons path. It was no use, the blade curved to meet him wherever he moved. As if he were made of paper, the knife tore through his upper thigh and carried on. A large chunk of flesh was torn out from the force. With a clang, the knife rebounded off the stone walkway and bounced off somewhere behind.

Limes grasped the handle of Kiritsugu's knife and yanked it free. Blood spurted from the wound, but he had a weapon at least. The Magus Killer struggled to remain standing. Avalon had been expended long ago and he had yet to be anywhere near Saber for it to replenish. Hopefully, she would arrive soon, or he would need to take drastic measures.

Kiritsugu leapt backwards, using his good leg to absorb the force. He reached into his coat and withdrew the Contender. As soon as he could, he fired the gun and directed a round straight into Limes. The masked man could only try and dodge. Lunging to meet the balustrade, he diverted the bullet from its intended position. Rather than in his heart, it struck his shoulder. It tore apart the entire bone structure and forced him to drop the knife.

Bullets to the torso were useless. The armour Limes wore was rated for rifle rounds and Kiritsugu hadn't enhanced his Contender bullets. Kiritsugu had predicted the attempt at evasion and struck right here he intended. The Magus Killer also hadn't bothered to use an Origin Round. It was expected he would, so its efficacy would be decreased.

"Caster!" Limes beckoned again. He raised his good hand and a PDW type weapon appeared. A high rate of fire and fast-moving rounds.

Kiritsugu's eyes widened. " _ **Time Alter: Triple Accel!**_ " The chant came again. Kiritsugu accelerated his body and its processes to three times the normal speed. Every motion tore his muscles apart and almost crippled him. Avalon's passive regeneration _without_ Saber was just enough to keep him alive. Kiritsugu moved right up to Limes as the first few bullets were being fired. He used one hand to slap the gun up and away, which sent a spray of bullets out into the auditorium. Limes' shock could almost be felt as a fist collided with his nose. The blow and surprise allowed the gun in his hand to fall. Limes collided with the ground on his back, groaning as he pushed himself into a kneeling position with one arm. The crimson mask stared deep into Kiritsugu's eyes. A blank face gazing onto a blank face.

"Caster told me I'd lose. He said you could beat me no matter what the scenario. You were simply too advanced for someone who isn't a mage." He coughed, blood dripped from beneath the mask. "He said.." Limes grunted, rolling so he could better bring himself to stand. "He said you were better than I was in every way. I never believed him." Limes grasped his bicep, which was still bleeding from the bullet wound. Like a leaf in the wind, Limes stood.

"Who would have thought he'd be right, eh?" Limes asked rhetorically, coughing through a laugh. "At Ryuudou Temple, Caster gave me some artifacts which boosted my abilities greatly. After hurting your girly friend, I gave them up." He paused to spit out blood against his mask. "I thought they were cheating. If I can't win on my own, what's the point of winning you know?" He paused, swallowing thickly. "After what I've seen here, I guess I should have held onto them…" He shook his head. "The game was rigged from the start."

Kiritsugu had yet to let his stance falter. This could have been a trap. How could this man _not_ be a mage? How could he supply Caster with mana if he had no knowledge of magecraft? _How had he summoned the servant in the first place?_

"Caster was the brains, I'll admit that. I was just… The game show host. I never made the game or the rules, but I spoke to the crowd. I just found the swords, followed the steps in the book. Caster says I could have been a decent mage if I had practiced early in my life." He coughed again, more blood dripped from the mask. He was internally bleeding from the knife wound.

"I wanted to be like you. When I found out you were getting into some freaky magic show with dead heroes, I couldn't help myself. Now I see…" He trailed on, wobbling on his feet. "Now I see, you have to be a mage - to kill a mage." He coughed wetly again and stumbled onto the balustrade for support.

"Is now a good time to say I've only ever been stabbed or shot in this War? Before I came here, I was never on the front lines. I preferred the shadows, or not fighting at all." Limes looked towards Caster, who was kneeling at Irisviel's body. "How uh… How is she by the way?" He asked distantly, moving the hand on his bicep to squeeze the gash in his torso. Blood coated him from the hip down, he had lost so much so quickly.

"She's dead." The Magus Killer responded simply. He wasn't referring to Irisviel, everyone could see she was gone. He was speaking about Maiya.

"Shame. She was a good-looking woman, smart too. Maybe a little too cold but… It would have been a good match - for you." He grunted, leg shaking before his body collapsed on its own weight.

"How did you grow to be so powerful without magecraft?" Kiritsugu questioned.

"Training… Just like you… And experience." He admitted, turning as his body fell so he could rest his back against the stone railing. "Caster helped… At the start of the War, he enhanced my body somehow. I became faster, stronger than I had ever been before. It wasn't anything groundbreaking like what you just did, but it was... Beyond human limits for sure."

Kiritsugu slowly let his fists down. If Limes was planning anything else, he wouldn't be so liberal with information. Limes feebly raised his right arm. "Caster, with my last command seal… I order you to assist Kiritsugu Emiya in his goals, survive until you can defeat Archer." Limes ordered, surprising the Magus Killer. It was a noble last wish, although absolutely futile in saving his own arm remained up for a few seconds then wavered and fell to the ground. "Consider my job - completed." Limes' body gently relaxed against the railings.

Kiritsugu popped the break-action of his Contender and reloaded another Springfield round. With some caution, the Magus Killer kneeled and unclasped the mask on Limes' face.

It was…-!

Impossible…

Limes had been a simple anagram. Rearranged it stood for Smile - Smile as in Smiles, the man Kiritsugu had contracted to observe Kirei Kotomine years ago. Kiritsugu had incidentally contracted his own greatest threat by eliminating another. All the knowledge he held became explained, the hints became obvious. How could he have been so clueless? Smiles had looked into his history, his life, his strengths and weaknesses. He came in prepared to face an ultimate threat even when outclassed. It was a respectable endeavour.

Limes identity was undeniable. The long jagged scar which ran from ear to ear, the shaved sides of his head with pink scar tissue in intricate designs. There was nobody else who could be as visibly striking as Smiles.

The Contender fired, and his face was made unrecognizable. It was better to ensure his death than have to tie up loose ends in the future. It was what he would have preferred.

"I applaud you, Kiritsugu. You have fought so well and lost so much." Caster suddenly spoke from below. "However, it is time to show you how much I have suffered - how much we have in common." Caster didn't even stand. He was holding Irisviel's hand tightly with his head down.

" **I am the bone of my sword.** " His words suddenly rang out. They weren't extremely loud, but Kiritsugu's ears began ringing and he felt like he was going to faint. His vision blurred and wavered with each spoken syllable.

" **Steel is my body and fire is my blood.** " The second line of his aria, he was chanting to prepare his noble phantasm - why would he be doing that now? No other servant was in the area.

" **I have created over a thousand blades.** " A vessel within his nose burst and blood began to trickle from the orifice, Kiritsugu instinctively raised his hands to cover his ears. Perhaps if he couldn't hear the words, his body wouldn't be affected.

" **Unaware of love…** " That strategy wasn't working. " **Nor aware of regret.** " Every cell in his body was screaming, telling him something was wrong, that this shouldn't be happening. Speckles of white flickered throughout his rapidly collapsing vision.

" **Always alone, though salvation waits on the hill of swords.** " Kiritsugu collapsed onto one knee, body trembling as if he were having a seizure.

" **As a gift for betrayal and loneliness…** " Kiritsugu briefly thought he heard the clatter of metal and a man's voice which expressed shock. The last stand of the aria was coming, Kiritsugu grasped the balustrade, expecting a spell of epic magnitude to tear apart the civic center soon. He shut his eyes tight, trying to control the waves of nausea washing across him.

" **I was given only… Unlimited Blade Works!** " As the aria was completed, Kiritsugu could hear the roar of flame. It seemed to expand in every direction and eventually completely passed over him without any heat. The balustrade in his clutches was gone, and cold stone beneath his knees had been replaced with soft clay. The chill of an empty building in mid-winter of Japan had been replaced with a warm steady breeze.

Kiritsugu opened his eyes and saw one of his dreams again. An expansive land of blades and clay with colossal steel gears churning idly above. Unlike his dream, the breeze here carried with it a sense of peace and completion. It was the sense of satisfaction one got after a long journey of hardship came to a pleasant end. Just some thirty feet to his right stood the gold figure of Gilgamesh.

"Hmph, _another_ reality marble phantasm." He scoffed, crossing both arms across his chest.

"Another?" Came the voice of Caster. He was standing atop a hill littered with innumerable blades of various design, just like Kiritsugu's dream. He even looked the same as the man in red who had cried while embedding Excalibur in this world. Looking closer, Kiritsugu spotted the golden blade on the top of the hill just behind Caster. The servant's face was where the similarities ended. In his dream before, the man on the hill wore crimson to cover his arms and a black vest to protect his torso. This man wore something entirely different. It was a conglomeration of multiple pieces.

Latticed metal was affixed to each shoulder. Based on how these makeshift pauldrons had fingers, they were gauntlets with renewed purpose. Come to think of it, they seemed incredibly familiar. He realized they were Saber's gauntlets, stripped from her hands and moulded to act as armour. Around his hips, was a black belt featuring a half-open crimson skirting. This was familiar to the dream, although the material used was different. Rather than one solid colour in something felt-like, the material was similar to fleece. Soft, dynamic, and clearly emblazoned with something Kiritsugu had never seen before. A white cross, with two simple dots in the top corners. The two sides of the skirt were symmetrical and they slowly faded on and off with pale blue energy. The rest of his attire was similar to the Caster of his dreams. A black vest for the torso with silver accents with the arms open to the air.

The last foreign element in his ensemble was a magenta ribbon. There were two, wrapped around and tied to his wrists. The ends flickered in the steady breeze. They were the same ribbon he had seen tied into the hair of the little girl, Sakura. This servant was so attached to her that an element of her became a staple in his true appearance. The eyes of Caster could finally be seen. They were blazing gold, radiant like Saber's blade. The corners were creased from the wide, sad smile Caster held.

"Hello, Gilgamesh. I would offer my name to you, however, our audience cannot hear of it without disrupting the future." Caster bowed formally, smiling towards the golden servant.

"Caster, you revealed yourself to be marginally smarter than the average mongrel. As such, I'll overlook the fact you deem yourself fit to stand above me without even addressing yourself."

"I do apologize, it's a simple feature of the reality marble." Caster closed his eyes and rested one hand on a blade impaled in the hill. "So, as you said _another_ , I'll assume you've taken down the King of Conquerors?" Caster asked, smile widening further.

"Indeed. While his exploits were reputable, his actions were lacking. Caster, are you so sick as to find joy in murder?" Gilgamesh asked, voice entirely disinterested. It was almost as if the servant had something better to do.

"Not quite, I was never as ruthless or cold as Kirei Kotomine. I find joy in the completion of things, you may be familiar." Caster finished his sentence, and the world exploded. Hundreds - no - _thousands_ of blades converged on the golden servant in an instant. Kiritsugu had to shield his face from the shower of metal shards, dust and debris. Noble phantasms, common weaponry, divine constructs and conceptual weapons all fired off by the dozen to annihilate Archer. After ten seconds of sustained fire, the barrage ceased just as suddenly as it had begun. Smoke and metal shards filled the area around Archer.

Dust flew around the reality marble as the wind picked up. It carried the smoke and metal filings away and in a few seconds, the scene cleared to reveal the remains of Gilgamesh. A strange weapon of gold, black and crimson sat some distance away. It was unlike anything Kiritsugu had ever seen before and the aura it produced sickened him. Segmented cylinders of black with coursing red lines assembled on a golden hilt and handle. Unlike the golden servant, it had survived the onslaught without a single scratch.

Gilgamesh - what was left of him - reached out for the weapon. Dozens of weapons had impaled his limbs. Blades ran him through from shoulder to hip, stabbing into the clay below and pinning him in place. Most of his armour had been removed, revealing tribalistic crimson tattoos across his entire body. The golden armour had shattered under the repeated abuse. The tattoos were clearly visible beyond the coating of blood from his many wounds. They pulsed crimson with his fading heartbeat. Archer's legs and arms were mangled masses of gold and flesh. Shards of metal were embedded in the skin, and it looked as if just reaching towards the strange weapon required all his energy.

"Fa-ker.." He snarled, staring at Caster with bloodshot crimson eyes.

"Yes, I am. I've heard you say it many times before with much more anger, surprisingly. Never heard it with a tone quite like this though." Caster calmly stepped down from his hill, reaching the weapon Archer had been vying for. Upon contact, crimson and gold sparks violently arched in every direction. Veins in Caster's arms bulged and the muscles through his entire body twitched violently.

"I've never been able to hold this before, it's difficult to discern… Even limiting my structural grasping to the previous owner's experience overloads my mind. If I hadn't been enhanced by my master, I likely wouldn't be able to keep up with this much information." Caster's hands twitched wildly, fingers jostling between holding the hilt tightly and releasing the weapon entirely. The sparks gradually died down and with it, Caster's hands solidified their place. The cylindrical portions spun wildly once before halting completely.

"How does it feel to be struck down by your own weapon, Gilgamesh?" Caster asked with a pleased smile. "To me, it feels like… Fulfilment."

Gilgamesh could only gape, unbelieving that another servant had laid hands on his weapon and lived. "Y-you… Monster…" He growled, blood flowing freely from his bared teeth.

"In another world, I would be calling you the same thing. In this one, that's precisely what _you_ made me." Caster grimaced, jamming the sword where Archer's heart should have been. As if it were a razor-sharp blade, the blunt cylindrical weapon pierced straight through and seemed to cauterize the wound it left behind.

The once proud, golden servant gasped as his body went limp. With the death of Archer, the world around them began to crumble and fall apart. Piercing white light screamed through the fractures and holes.

… … …

… … …

Saber hoped she wasn't too late. She had eaten up so much time dealing with Berserker that she hadn't even noticed her master was in extreme duress. Berserker had fought until his body dematerialized. Saber had landed a single decisive strike as Lancelot's mana reserves emptied. His blade just seemed to stop in mid-strike which allowed her to run him through. He recovered his sanity while dying in her arms. He explained his anger and thanked her for putting him down. Saber had said her goodbyes to an old friend and left the fading servant to help her master. She had dried her years while running.

Kiritsugu hadn't responded to any of her beckonings. He was entirely silent - come to think of it, she couldn't even feel their link any longer. The wounds from Arondight healed when she demanded them to, so mana was still being provided from somewhere.

Overriding her master's commands, she lifted the tarp covering whatever it was at their former residence. She found, what the Throne informed her it was, a motorbike. A Yamaha V-max to be specific. It wasn't the highest class of motorbike, but it was robust and powerful enough to be enhanced with ease. She could hardly enjoy the vehicle, however, concern over her master and the revelation of recent events clouded her mind. But that didn't slow her down for a second. On the machine, had been instructions which revealed she could meld her magically weaved armour into the construction of the bike. Doing so increased performance and elevated its specification beyond that of a human-made machine. Of course, Kiritsugu would forgo formality to expressly explain functionality. In this upgraded form, Saber screamed across the streets of Fuyuki at a speed beyond the analog speedometers limit. directly towards the last known location of her master.

She made it there in five minutes, careening to a stop which launched her upwards towards an open section of the partly deconstructed building. As if She had done the maneuver hundreds of time, Saber even deployed the bike rest so the vehicle wouldn't even be scratched. Flying through the air, her armour moved from the bike to her body. Her hand gripped the handle of her invisible blade while skidding across the concrete floors, making sparks. Like a bullet, the King of Knights screamed through the halls and stairs, encountering an already opened door which led into an expansive area beyond. Entering the room, she looked around - it was empty save for one person.

"Lady Irisviel!" She shouted, sprinting down the stairs to her master's side. She was cold and no longer breathing. Strange enough, was that Saber's eyes were telling a different story. The homunculus was _alive_. How could she live without breathing?

The question was disregarded as a warp in the very space around her rattled her entire form. Saber turned and spotted three new people where they hadn't been seconds ago. One was her master, wounded, but suddenly healing rapidly. Another was the former golden servant Archer, dead and dematerializing into golden sparks. His body was mutilated with blades and a gaping hole was cut clear through his chest. The final was someone she had never seen before. He was facing away from her, watching Archer's body decompose into energy.

The sword in her hands clanked as it was set into position. "Who are you? Identify yourself!" She shouted, glancing between this man and her master, who seemed to be heavily disorientated. He was bleeding from the nose, ears and one leg. His right eye was bloodshot and blood covered the left due to a wound on his head.

"I would have thought you'd recognize me like this, but I suppose those memories don't exist yet." He spoke. It was Caster, she could recognize that voice anywhere.

"You killed Archer alone?" She asked skeptically. Just what was going on here? Why hadn't he killed Kiritsugu when he had the chance?

"Indeed. Come to think of it, you have never seen my noble phantasm or my true ability." He remarked, looking upwards. Saber only now realized he was no longer concealed. Ashen white hair adorned his head, her own gauntlets were moulded and strapped to his shoulders like pauldrons, and strange ceremonial looking garb concealed his legs from the waist down. "Unfortunately for you, you won't be able to see anything beyond a single strike."

A piercing pain originated from her spine. She cried out in pain while a sudden explosion of magical energy filled the room. She heard Kiritsugu shout out in tandem. Her master's signal left her mind, as did the consistent flow of mana from the man. She wasn't receiving a single drop now. Thankfully her reserves could keep her fighting for some time. Trying to reason everything together, she absently noticed the strange shape of the weapon in her back. Rather than cripple her, it simply jutted out and felt… _Wrong_. The weapon had done something to the contract between her and Kiritsugu.

"Saber!" Her former master yelped, using a chair to stand. He grimaced in pain as the wounds that had been healing suddenly stopped in their tracks. His wounds had at least sealed themselves up, he wouldn't have to worry about bleeding out.

"Kiritsugu!" Saber shot back, releasing invisible air on her blade. She would kill Caster with a concentrated blast of Excalibur, she only needed to close the distance. The knight took one step forward, but that was as far as she got before her body instructed her to stop. Blades surrounded her neck, creating a collar that threatened to behead her should she move. The even surrounded her arms and hands, effectively trapping her unless she wanted to become a pin cushion.

"Oh, perfect. That pesky noble phantasm _Invisible Air_ needs to get out of the way for what I have planned anyway." Caster turned and pointed towards the table where Irisviel had been. Saber awkwardly turned her head to peer back at Irisviel. Rather than a woman, a gleaming gold chalice had appeared. She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn a bubbling noise was coming from within. "A wise man once said, history repeats itself. By my command seal, I order you, Saber, use Excalibur to destroy the Holy Grail." As his words finished, the blade collar around her dematerialized.

Her eyes snapped wide. "What!? Why would you do such a thing?" She asked, body jerking itself to life. It began moving on autopilot, arms lifting the weapon above her head. She tried to fight her muscles, but they were progressively turning her to face the grail. Mana streamed freely from her reserves into the blade, charging the weapon without her control.

"It is a necessary sacrifice." He stated, striding past the petite king confidently.

"You plan to kill us all?"

"If I have to." Caster replied instantly, voice purely devoted to the cause.

"One of us shall live, and their future actions shall dismantle the Grail once and for all." Caster explained, standing only a few feet away from Saber - in direct line between her and the Grail.

"With my second command seal, I order you to use all your available mana to overload Excalibur," Caster commanded. With another flash, she was forced to do as instructed. The blade illuminated the room as if it was noon. Her arms trembled both because of her resistance to following through, and the sheer amount of power in her blade. Her legs trembled as the mana used in maintaining her form was diverted to her weapon. At this level - Excalibur would violently explode as soon as she used it. It would kill herself and Caster instantly before the blast even struck the Grail.

"Kiritsugu, step back towards the door, you cannot die here," Caster ordered, and cautiously the Magus Killer obeyed. There was nothing else he could do at this point. "With my third and final command seal, I order you-"

"No! This isn't the way to stop the Grail! We can dismantle it properly if we take some time!" The red glow faded and Caster shook his head. Saber realized that this had always been Caster's plan. Had he been lying about the Grail's corruption too? Could she have saved Briton with her wish?

"You always hated this part, I recall you saying how much you despised Kiritsugu for doing this to you. I hope you don't come to hate _me_ for forcing you now. What you don't understand is that this action is required in the world for the natural flow of things. Many variables can change, but this single action needs to happen to ensure future success. When you return to the Earth, you will discover the meaning behind my words, do not resent me when next we meet." He explained, eyes filled with genuine sorrow.

She didn't know what to believe anymore, was this truly the way to fix things? To destroy the omnipotent wish granter that could revert her country's downfall… But then… Caster had seemed honest when explaining how the Grail never truly granted wishes in the first place. Those eyes - those golden, gleaming eyes. He was being honest for sure. She felt as if she could place her faith in those cool eyes. If she trusted him, would he misplace that trust?

"By my third command seal-" She didn't interrupt anymore, she was half resigned to her fate. "- I order you, Saber, use Excalibur on the Holy Grail." With the crimson flash of an expended command seal, the full power of Excalibur came to strike the Earth. As her blade became horizontal, the overloaded blade violently erupted and engulfed the two in a ball of pure energy that near-instantly evaporated the servants.

… … …

And that was it… She had returned to floating in her familiar timeless state. The conclusion to the Fourth Holy Grail War ended in, well, nothing.

There were no tears here, there was no point. She blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was said, what was done. Caster had said everything would be revealed the next time she returned to Earth; was she to fight in the War again? Or would she be resurrected by some mage in the far future? Just like a servant, only permanent? It had been seconds after making her contract with Gaia until she had been summoned for the Fourth Holy Grail War. If Caster was honest, it would likely take seconds for her to come about whenever she was summoned next.

He had said, "she hated this part". Had he seen her do that same action multiple times? Was he some sort of seer or dimensional traveller? Just who was Caster?

The King of Knights curled into herself while floating listlessly in the void of the Throne. There were too many questions and she didn't have an answer or even a guess for any of them.

Then - in the distance, a light. It was as she predicted, seconds after her death she was to be reborn. The light beckoned her. Caster's words held merit. She was being summoned again. From the speck of light, a voice began.

"Heed my -rds, my -ill crea- your -ody and your -ord creates my d-tiny." It began, voice whisper quiet but obviously originating from a man. The first summoning had begun like this, choppy but gaining strength and foundation as the chant continued.

"If you he-d the Grail's call, and obey my will and reasoning - then -swer my summoning." It continued, growing clearer. Saber extended a hand towards the light. It was dim out there, but far from being as dark as the void. The voice was clearer, it was a younger man but his voice still held confidence.

"I hereby swear, that I shall be all the good of the world - and defeat all the evil of the world." The light grew further and Saber stretched out to meet it. She swore that the summoning aria was familiar… Where had she heard it before?

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended by the three great powers, come forth from the throne O- **Wielder of Promised Victory**!" The voice grew louder, and the direct call to her made the void around her shake and shudder violently. Even though she was being pulled into the new world, she still had the choice of refusing. Mind racing as she drifted closer and closer to the surface of the tear, she settled on her answer.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"I accept."

* * *

 **Megasize chapter. 22,000 words! Double what I usually put out. With the massive chapter, I've completed Fate/Zero and moved into Fate/Stay Night. I've also discovered that trying to edit such a long chapter is absolutely hellish so the amount of these MEGA-CHAPTERS is going to be incredibly limited.**

… …

 **That's actually a lie. But you'll see precisely what I mean. You think I'll pass up the chance to write the intermission of ten whole years between the Fourth and Fifth Grail war? Fat chance. We know Rider fell to Gilgamesh as usual (explained later), but what happened to Sakura? Speaking of "Whatever Happened to..?": Tokiomi Tohsaka and Illya. And does Rin still have her mother because Kariya never killed her? I guess you'll just have to find out next time on DRAGON BALL Z…. No, wait, wrong series. I mean** _ **Fate: Unbalanced Scales.**_

 **As always, favourite, follow and DEFINITELY review! See you all next year!**


	8. Ends of a String

**EDIT:** **Less than 3**

* * *

 **I'd like to take the very first line to express thanks towards my new beta: Talndir. It's my first time having someone read my work before it's posted to the public and the first time I've had a beta. I appreciate all the work they've put into this story and how much feedback they've given. I couldn't ask for someone better and I hope they know how much I appreciate all the effort they're putting it! Everyone should expect a leap in quality from here onwards! As another way to say thanks, I'd like to ask you, the reader, to go visit Talndir's fiction and give some love from one community to another!**

 _ **Attention: There was a slight error. I had accidently left in a sentence that implied Kiritsugu had taken Avalon from Shirou however that is NOT THE CASE. It has since been corrected to indicate his wounds were healed by other means.**_

 **Since so much time has passed since the last chapter there will be a comparatively abundant amount of pre and post notes, if you aren't interested then just skip on to the dots and lines below!**

 **I had a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, I hope all of you readers did as well. As promised, I've come out of hiatus and the production of Fate: Unbalanced Scales is underway again. I've had ideas about the overall progression of the story and I think that from this point on it will slow down rather heavily compared to the other chapters. I'm also going to be using this delayed progression to work on my descriptions of battles and combat scenes. I'm going to try to get better at the overall flow and tone of fights. If anyone would like to comment on my style, add suggestions or maybe even correct my way of thinking and point out that how I write combat is fine - write a review or write me a message! Always happy to talk.**

 **From what I gather looking around Fanfiction. The majorly successful recent stories** **are "gamer" or "game" related ones. (A genre I don't really care for tbh) The ones that aren't game related and are also extremely popular are OLD. Along the 3 to 7-year range old. One of the top rated ones has 984,258 words! That's amazing! I haven't read it yet, but I've put it on my list for sure. If I get lots of recommendations from you for it I'll push it up and give it a try. I wanted to read " _Servant and Cook_ " But I've been tied up and wanted to get some of my own writing done. In time hopefully, we can start a friendly little competition for length! (I can only imagine how my beta feels reading that line heh-heh)**

 **I stand in absolute AWE over fanfictions that have hundreds and sometimes thousands of reviews. Putting it into comparison with my measly 27, I'm a minnow in an ocean full of sharks! But I have to try my best not to be discouraged. My writing is still new in comparison so I only hope it will gain popularity as time goes on. Fate is also an older anime so its influx of popularity has died down significantly compared to when these big fictions were released. (Hopefully, the popularity comes back with the release of Heaven's Feel and Fate:GO) But enough ranting, it's time for Fate: Unbalanced Scales!**

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* * *

Kiritsugu already knew where to go. He had been here twice before. This hell on earth, this inescapable nightmare. He knew nobody else could or would be saved. There was only one individual which would make it out of this alive, and it certainly wasn't the Magus Killer. He had died some time ago following the death of his wife. He was running purely on autopilot at this point, pursuing a destiny revealed to him by his dreams. He had to find the boy with red hair. Following the path he had watched himself walk once before, he came across a familiar pile of rubble - but he didn't see a hand sticking up into the air.

Had something changed?

Had he not followed the right path?

Had the boy decided to go somewhere else this time around?

Then he saw it, the hand right where he had expected it to be, rising up towards the sparse drops of rain. Kiritsugu had just been a little early was all. Breathing a sigh of relief, the Magus Killer moved to, and took hold of, the boy's hand. He hadn't noticed he was crying until his own tears fell onto the boy's face. Dull brown eyes that seemed entirely devoid of life, seemed to sparkle and burn brighter upon seeing the expression of his saviour. Kiritsugu pressed the boy's hand to his cheek, closing his eyes and smiling. He had saved one person. Even if he was destined to, even if it was fate, it was good enough for him. Just being able to hold onto the hand of someone he had truly rescued seemed to ease the burden of knowing he had indirectly caused the death of so many people - _again._

Both the dream and Caster had made it abundantly clear that this boy was important. But now that he was here in person, the importance was as subtle as a fireworks display: this boy was the only person Kiritsugu would truly _save_ in his life. Rescuing someone from death didn't always mean they were saved. Sometimes, a person sought death as their saviour. Twisted as it may be, extending one's life may sometimes be a punishment.

This boy had been injured by an attack from another and scarred mentally from the horror witnessed in its aftermath. Still, he could be saved. Given a new family and care to heal his injuries. Kiritsugu vowed to do whatever it took to _save_ him. The boy's eyes closed weakly. Worriedly, Kiritsugu looked him over. His wounds would end his life soon, Kiritsugu had nothing to use that could heal the boy…unless…

Yes, it would keep him alive long enough to get him proper medical attention. Kiritsugu reached into his chest and withdrew the glimmering sheath of Avalon. Residual energy from Saber lingered within, just enough to repel curses and keep organs functioning. This would work, it had to work - he would save the boy who would become Caster.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Kiritsugu had personally carried the boy all the way to Fuyuki's hospital - on foot. The doctors and nurses had examined him and marvelled at his endurance. They had all but told Kiritsugu directly that he would die, or that he _should_ have died. Scrapes, scars and bruises littered his body. Even some of his bones had been bruised from the force of the blast. His recovery would take months - or so the doctors said anyway. Unknown to the doctors, cursed ash had invaded his lungs and debilitated his nervous system. Avalon had done well to prevent permanent respiratory problems, but there was no telling what side effects exposure like that might have had. Even after using the residual energy within Avalon, the boy's wounds would be all healed in a few days at the least, a week or two at most.

Kiritsugu had sat awake beside the boy's bed all night. With his mouth covered by clasped hands, the Magus Killer considered what he knew. Caster had lied, first and foremost, but perhaps that was for good reason. If he had been told Maiya would die, he would have done his best to keep her alive. She wouldn't have killed Kariya and the entire end of the war might have been changed. Perhaps Caster had known how the war would have ended had Maiya been saved, and had decided that this outcome was best. One thing was for certain. Through his visions, through Caster's words and actions: this boy would follow a path of hell.

" **As a gift for betrayal and loneliness."**

Caster's words echoed through Kiritsugu's mind and his eye twitched. The boy would face constant betrayal, he would have no one to rely on.

" **Unaware of love."**

He would have nobody to adore, and none would adore him. For what reasons he could only guess.

" **Nor aware of regret."**

But he would be free from regret at least. Regret was known to break men more than love, betrayal or even loneliness. Guilt was a close contender, but what would this boy have to feel guilt over? Kiritsugu thought at length over his actions and Caster's words. If Kiritsugu followed the guidance he had received, this boy would ultimately become Caster, or something similar at the very least. Even with all the faults found within the servant, was becoming Caster really the worst possible fate?

Another dream flickered into sight within Kiritsugu's eyes. The dream of a man wearing red ceremonial garb impaling Excalibur into a hill of swords while crying, apologizing for his deeds. _That_ man was also Caster - but not. The difference between the two was that one was a Counter Guardian and the other was an Anti-Hero. Back when Kiritsugu had first gone through the dream, he'd misinterpreted the Counter Guardian as _himself_ following the war, essentially what he would become. With all the new information, Kiritsugu determined that the Counter Guardian he had seen was a _form_ of Caster. Not that they were one and the same, they were different entirely - separated by an event or…something as simple as an emotion. Apologizing for one's actions, wishing to turn back the clock and change an outcome - that was regret. Impaling Excalibur into their world of blades while lamenting about the outcome was regret in its most pure form. In one way or another, that variation of Caster had killed Saber and despised every minute thereafter.

This all lined up when Kiritsugu remembered Dream Caster. The one who had spoken to him at length in his most vivid and confusing dream. That servant had commented on how there were many versions of himself and if that were true, there was bound to be a variation full of regret and anger. One who couldn't see through the good they were doing, one who focused primarily on all the guilt and regret they stored deep within…

… … …

At some point, Kiritsugu had fallen asleep with his head lying on the bed.

The nurses hadn't had him removed, surprisingly. They had probably thought he was the boy's father and had decided to let him stay close. When they found out the two weren't related the next morning, he had been promptly removed after visiting hours ended. While he didn't want to leave, he could bear with leaving the boy alone for now. He was comatose and Kiritsugu had other matters to attend to. Like the small one within the house directly ahead.

His fist rapped on the door several times. It was sundown, sometime around five in the afternoon. The Magus Killer waited at the doorway for a moment, until it was slowly opened by an older woman. Based on her facial features, she was from the west - a foreigner who spent much of her time out in the sun.

"Yes? How may I help you?" she asked with a warm smile and an equally inviting voice. She seemed incredibly kind if nothing else.

"I'm here to speak with Waver, he'll be expecting me," Kiritsugu replied curtly. She nodded solemnly and closed the door. He could hear her step back inside and shout something indiscernible up the stairs. Kiritsugu had never intended to leave Sakura with Waver for so long, but as the Brit likely knew, the explosion and what followed after had held him up.

The door opened a crack and Waver peeked out from around the corner. "You never said I'd have to watch over her for _two days_ ," he snapped out, squinting accusingly. For someone so young, he had a lot of spite and confidence. Something of a deadly combination that could lead to either boundless success or outright downfall.

Kiritsugu blinked. "I never said you _wouldn't_ have to watch over her for that long either."

That logic was infallible, and the glare given by the younger man revealed his frustration with the solid defence. He sighed haughtily. "Fine, did you want to come in or were you in such a rush you'd rather I throw her out the window?" Waver opened the door wide, running a hand through his hair.

"I'd like to come in if you don't mind, I wouldn't want to rush Sakura." Kiritsugu bowed shallowly, ignoring the comment entirely. When Waver stepped back into the house, Kiritsugu followed behind the Brit, sliding his coat from his shoulders.

"Is that lovely little girl leaving, Waver?" the older woman asked.

"Yes, her guardian has come by to pick her up today - I hope you don't mind if he has some tea while she packs," Waver responded. It was odd hearing the shift in tone that took place when he spoke to his grandparents. Or, supposed grandparents anyway. Kiritsugu had looked into the history of this house in his spare time. It was owned by a senior Canadian immigrant couple, the Mackenzies. Waver must have convinced the two or hypnotized them into believing he was their grandson.

It was rather wise. Something Kiritsugu himself would have never thought of. Free housing in an inconspicuous location with simple people nobody would look twice at. Kiritsugu closed the door behind him and removed his boots. The room he stepped into held a table, four chairs and compact appliances stuffed into a neat and tidy space. It was a simple kitchen, obviously not designed for an expansive family visit. Further in was a living room with two armchairs, a TV and a fireplace.

The older couple was here, seated at the kitchen table while Waver poured himself a cup of coffee. The Mackenzies greeted him in Japanese, to which Kiritsugu responded in kind - complete with a half bow. The conversation then turned to English.

"I thank you for allowing me into your home, I won't be long - I've already intruded too much," Kiritsugu apologized. The older couple both shook their heads. Waver settled his cup of coffee on the counter. He left the kitchen up a set of stairs for a brief moment before returning.

"Not at all! It was nice to have Sakura here. That's quite a bright girl of yours!" the man commended, getting a dry chuckle from Kiritsugu.

"Unfortunately I can't take credit for that." The Magus Killer spoke nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself." Waver gave him an annoyed glare in the background from behind his mug of coffee. Was he still upset about not knowing his name? "I'm Kiritsugu Emiya."

He shook hands with the elderly couple, who identified themselves as Glen and Martha. "We're surprised that you know both English and Japanese while Sakura only knows Japanese," the woman, Martha, marvelled while handing Kiritsugu a cup of steaming tea.

"Yes, it's true that Sakura doesn't know English, but Waver has been a good friend so I knew I could depend on him, even if he couldn't speak directly with her." Kiritsugu returned the glare he was receiving as he sipped his tea. It was simple jasmine and it scalded his mouth, but the pain was worth making the Brit flinch from a gaze alone.

Glen took a sip from his own cup. "Well, you seem like a fine young man -" Kiritsugu wanted to snort, young? "- I'm sure you'll make a good father." The two older people in the room seemed oblivious to the battle of eyes taking place between the two former masters.

Waver choked on his coffee, coughing heavily as he tried to clear his throat. Martha looked towards him with concern, asking if he was alright. "I'm fine," he paused to cough, "thank you." The Magus Killer sipped his tea again, hearing a noise from the stairs. Turning his head, he spotted the young girl in the same outfit he had left her with. Her eyes still looked empty, but her skin wasn't nearly as pale.

"Kiritsugu." There was more emotion in that single word than he had heard from her since they met. Most likely undetectable to the other people in the room; a hint of hope.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked with a slight smile.

The girl shrugged, moving towards the door. She methodically put on her shoes and sat patiently at the door for Kiritsugu. "I'll be getting out of your hair now, thank you once again for putting up with us," he announced as he stood and followed Sakura to the door.

Waver continued sipping his coffee as he watched the Magus Killer leave. The steely, composed glare from his eyes was being betrayed by beads of sweat running down his forehead.

After putting on his shoes and opening the door, he rested a hand on Sakura's head and expressed his farewells. Waver gave him one last glance as he shut the door to the house.

"He's weird," Sakura pointed out as they walked down the path back to the street.

Kiritsugu snorted. "He's young and unsure. Men his age are pretty weird, yes." Casually he stuffed both hands into his coat and turned to head north. "Can I ask you something?"

Sakura shrugged passively.

"I've looked into the Matou line and couldn't find any 'Sakura'. You're not from the Matou house are you?" he asked, glancing down to the violet-haired girl. Her normally cold eyes chilled several degrees further. She seemed to be totally empty inside. "You're Sakura Tohsaka, aren't you?" he asked, getting a very shallow nod in return. The Magus Killer hummed appreciatively. "I doubt they'll want you back if they gave you away," he began, talking to himself idly. "I'll see what I can do. It might be outside of Fuyu-"

"I don't want to leave Fuyuki." She spoke up, voice level and determined. The Magus Killer was visibly surprised. He hadn't been expecting that at all. Fuyuki was where she was disowned by her own family, given off to another and violated by worms on what he could only assume was a daily basis. What reason would she have to want to stay besides childish defiance?

"It would be safer if you were to leave, Zouken would be unable to reach you in another country," Kiritsugu pointed out. If he could just get Sakura to leave the country for a while he could focus on killing the old worm without worrying about her safety. After he had put him down, he could bring her back to Fuyuki.

Sakura shook her head, settling the debate and his thoughts with a single motion. She wasn't leaving and it was final in her mind. Resigning to the outcome, Kiritsugu limited his scope of relocation to Fuyuki.

He wasn't really familiar with Fuyuki, at least not well enough to know individual families. Taiga might know some families seeking to adopt, he'd have to check later.

His mind wandered to the little boy back in the hospital. He was dealing with two separate children who were both broken in their own ways. He had witnessed the true horrors which demolished one, while he could only fathom how deep the cracks went into the other's mind. Everyone you ever knew, your entire life stripped away in an instant. Having to walk through an indescribable hell-scape with the screams of the dying swirling around every corner, all while being unable to stop or help a single one of them.

Sakura's hand tugged at his coat sleeve, bringing his thoughts back to the present. She wasn't indicating to him to stop, she just wanted something to hold onto as they walked. Hardly audible, a soft voice mumbled two words. "Thank you."

… … …

… … …

… … …

The government was terrible. Kiritsugu was never keen on working with the government, but certain things had to be done in certain ways to make life easier. Adoption was one of those things. Sure Kiritsugu _could_ have forged birth certificates and legal papers, but he wanted everything to be by the book so the boy would have no troubles in the future. Earlier this morning, the child woke up from his coma. Kiritsugu had been there beside him, waiting so they were able to talk at length. The boy had forgotten his name, so Kiritsugu had given him choices for another. The red-haired boy had decided on Shirou, a pleasing-sounding name if nothing else.

After he had given the boy a name, the Magus Killer gave him another choice: become an orphan like so many of the other injured children at the hospital, or be adopted into the Emiya family and live with him. Shirou had paused and donned a look of deep thought. He even posed with his fist covering his mouth like this decision required extensive council. Kiritsugu thought he might decline and was teetering on the edge of shattering his last fragment of humanity. After a few seconds of thought, Shirou shook his head in agreement. Due to his recent recovery into consciousness, the doctors required the boy to stay another day.

Kiritsugu set his pen down, examining the papers in front of him to verify the information and signatures were all correct. He had said it once and would say it again: he hated the government. The black journal caught his attention in the dim light of the desk lamp. Sliding it along the desk's surface, Kiritsugu opened it to where he had left off. On the last documented page was a hospital admittance slip for the boy he had brought in. Retrieving the pen he had just set down, he began writing the last entry, which didn't take too long. Five minutes or so and he was done writing the events of the last day as well as a brief statement of conclusion. He decided to begin a new book, leaving this one behind as a recounting of the Fourth Grail War. A new journal would be dedicated to his life following the War, or he might scrap the whole diary idea entirely.

He wasn't sure. It would be ten years until the Fifth Grail War began if Caster were to be believed. There would be little need for writing before then. Standing from the desk, the Magus Killer exited his room with the journal in hand. He stopped by one of the rooms in his new permanent home and peeked in through the door. Sakura slept soundly in her futon, wrapped tight in a white blanket. Taiga had said tomorrow she would find out about families in the area that might be interested in adoption; everything in Fuyuki was going well. With all this running around, Kiritsugu had nearly forgotten about Acht.

Before he left, Jubstacheit had told him to return with the Grail - or not at all. There wasn't a chance in hell old man Acht would believe another servant had stolen Saber's command seals from him, then used all three to power up Excalibur and commit suicide while destroying the Grail in the same finishing blow. It had been two days since the end of the War. Kiritsugu was certain any family worth calling themselves magi would know of its conclusion. Acht would hold onto his daughter with an iron grip, if only to torture Kiritsugu for his failures.

... But he wasn't known as the _Magus Killer_ for nothing. Acht had counted on his death should he be unable to retrieve the Grail. Kiritsugu surviving with almost no injury or disability would be unforeseen. He had already gotten in contact with a pilot under the table. He wasn't going to let Illya, his precious little girl, stay in the clutches of Jubstacheit.

The creaky door to the stone shed opened. Kiritsugu entered and walked to the back where his hidden safe lay waiting. The journal was set on top of bundles of currency before the door shut and the locks re-engaged. Kiritsugu wouldn't need the book anymore, he had all the memories burned into his mind. Even now, Smiles' last words could be recalled verbatim. While his involvement brought up more questions than answers, there was little that could be done now...

Kiritsugu turned and stopped. He thought he heard something…chittering.

Eyes snapping wide open, he sprinted towards Sakura's room like a man possessed. One arm reached into his coat for the familiar handle of his Contender.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The plane touched down, wheels steaming as the moisture clinging to their surface was heated at an incredible rate. It was a private jet of a design Kiritsugu couldn't be bothered to remember. When the craft rolled to a stop, the door hydraulically opened and a male voice came through the speaker above the pilot's cabin.

"Take off is in twenty-four hours, with or without you."

That was more than enough time. Kiritsugu clambered down the stairs and adjusted his coat to better shield his body from the biting winter wind. Some distance away, a black car sat waiting for him with headlights on. While he walked, the door to the private jet sealed back up and it began rolling towards a hangar.

This wasn't an international airport, but it was quite big for being privately owned. Kiritsugu slid into the driver's seat of the vehicle and settled into position. He paused to check the glove compartment and center console for anything suspicious. No bugs, no explosives, no problem.

He began his drive to Einzbern Castle, running the plan over in his mind. Upon nearing, he would close in on foot. The bounded field would be difficult to crack - possibly the hardest of his career. Thankfully, his recently acquired skills in runecraft might offer a new edge into field-breaking. Once that was done, he would set up remote explosives on the main entrance while he scaled the side of the building. He would set the explosives off and enter through a window.

It might have seemed backwards or counter-intuitive, but if Acht realized Kiritsugu had killed all the homunculi in his path and was about to rescue Illya, he would kill her himself. If Kiritsugu was delayed by the lab-bred soldiers for even a moment, it would give Acht enough time to kill Illya. He was precisely the kind of vengeful degenerate one might expect him to be.

Kiritsugu had memorized the second floor's layout during his time there, he could easily find his way to Illya's room once he got into the castle. He would use his coat to protect Illya like he had done with Sakura and after that, he would kill everyone in his path to leave.

The difference between this mission and the others he had conducted, was that the equipment he was used to would be absent. The Calico and Contender were back at Fuyuki in his hidden armoury. It was safer that way. If he were to die, the Einzberns wouldn't be able to reverse engineer his mystic code. While he wouldn't have it on hand to use against his enemies, having his secrets preserved was more important. In the end, it was just a gun after all.

He couldn't have brought his own weapons even if he wanted to anyway. The pilot had stipulated that no weapons or contraband be brought onboard and Kiritsugu was forced to respect that. Having near unlimited access to undocumented flights in a private jet was something he couldn't afford to throw away. Kiritsugu would have to break out some of the heavy ordinance stored in a small town just south of Munich. Years ago he had stored a PTR 32 in a basic buried dead drop. It was an assault rifle made in Germany itself, chambered in 7.62 and fed by a drum mag of all things. Whatever madman had decided to put high capacity drum magazines onto fully automatic assault rifles should be given a Nobel Prize in Kiritsugu's opinion.

But he could plan his attack later, right now he only had to focus on the steadily moving dashed yellow line.

… … …

The Magus Killer checked over his gun, verifying all the components were as he had left them. The charging handle chambered a round, producing a satisfying metal-on-metal mechanical noise. A movement of the thumb and the gun was set to full-auto.

With eyes closed, he focused on breathing. He couldn't let his emotions or fears take control of his body. If he did, Illya would die. He couldn't make a mistake, everything needed to be coordinated and precise. The man pushed himself off his lean against the car, plodding off towards a castle which loomed ominously in the distance. The area was so familiar to him. It had been where he and Illya had played games during the day, where he and Irisviel had walked in the nights, where he had been forced to rescue Iri after Acht tossed her out into the woods like garbage.

After five minutes of walking through freshly laden snow, he reached the edge of the Einzbern bounded field. A glance around him secured the area. He let his hands fall from the gun, weapon hanging comfortably in front from a sling. Kiritsugu reached into one pocket to withdraw his gloves. Slipping them on was accompanied by the pleasing squeak of leather. After that, he reached into more pockets to withdraw average-sized flat rocks. Engraved on their surfaces were runic letters.

They were quick-use runes. Rudimentary and incapable of precise application, they served as holdouts for dangerous situations or hasty use of magecraft…in theory.

Kiritsugu had never actually used them before, or even tested to see if mid-throw combinations of separate runes even worked. It should, or he hoped it would at least. This was a lot more guesswork than he had really intended, but cracking the bounded field in his traditional sense was both expected and lengthy.

 _Anti-Fehu_ , _Anti-Uruz_ and a new rune he had yet to use - _Dagaz_. The first two signified failure and frailty respectively, Dagaz was needed for its "break through" definition. Besides the natural rune abilities, Kiritsugu elected to further boost the potential of these runes. Drawing a knife and peeling back the sleeve of his coat, he made a small cut on the top of his arm. Blood trickled freely from the wound, dripping onto the surface of the rune-stones and soaking into their pores. From what little knowledge in proper magecraft Kiritsugu held, this application should infuse his origin into the spell. Trying this on bullets would work, but it was far from subtle, was not self-actuated and could be detected easily as mana needed to be applied directly to the medium.

Three stones flew into the bounded field and made wild sparks of varying colour. Extending an open hand, Kiritsugu transferred mana into the rapidly heating runes. The stone turned from dull gray to glowing red and the engraved runes flashed a brilliant white. A shooting pain stabbed into his palm which steadily crawled up to his shoulder and spread outward even beyond. Kiritsugu grit his teeth, using his other hand to steady the one he had already raised. He understood now why magi made such a stereotypical pose when casting spells. Was this how magecraft was supposed to feel? The rocks continued rising in temperature, just like the magus' body. Liquefied stone began to drip from the surface due to sheer heat. The stones shook and rattled in place, slowly moving closer to one another while hovering in the air.

When the pain reached his face and his vision started to blur, the runes exploded and took the bounded field with them. Like snowflakes, sparkling blue shards fell from the sky to coat the soft snow on the ground. Bits of molten rock sizzled and snapped in the cold snow below.

The Magus Killer took gulps of breath, vision returning with the flow of oxygen. The pain and heat radiating through his body ebbed away with each lungful of cold air. He had pierced the defence of the bounded field by momentarily cutting off the creator's mana flow, shorted the entire construction and bound the "wiring" together improperly. When the original creator's mana resumed, Kiritsugu applied an additional burst to overload the already debilitated circuitry.

It had taken a considerable amount of mana in a very short amount of time, but the first trial had been completed. If he hadn't been well rested and in peak performance, Kiritsugu doubted he would have been able to pull it off. Steam billowed from his mouth and from underneath his coat. It was like he had run a mile straight, burning throat greedily sucking in air autonomously. Still, the man trudged up the path towards the castle with weapon raised. There was no interference to turn him back now.

Cold fire burned deep within black eyes. They stared ahead at the entrance to the castle. He half-expected homunculi to pour out of it, but not a single one came through. Reaching the large double doors, he quickly removed and applied strings of det-cord to the surface. While it wasn't as quick and easy as throwing a brick of C4, it produced a similarly-sized explosion which made sense when one considered what det-cord was made of in the first place. Why he hadn't decided to use C4? That was easy: he didn't have any. Trying to find contraband like that in such a short amount of time was impossible, even for a magus with extensive connections.

Once the cabling was applied, Kiritsugu fixed a pager to the whole setup. The device was almost becoming a staple of his craft at this point. With an underhanded throw, Kiritsugu launched a grappling hook skywards. He was to the west of the main entrance as it was the best point of access. There was a high tower he could attach his hook onto and the window on the second floor was large enough for him to enter easily. Besides these two things, if he spent any more time moving to another side of the castle the homunculi would move to guard Illya. Kiritsugu wasn't the only one with a vendetta against the Einzberns and almost every enemy the family had known about the homunculus girl. Her death would be a massive blow to the family's progress or at the very least she would fetch a decent ransom. Jubstacheit had plans for her and would pay anything to get her back.

A simple burst of his remaining mana activated the runes embedded in the hook. Unnaturally, the hook flew farther than it should have and seemed to move in mid-air. With a satisfying clang, it gripped into the crenellated parapet of the tower.

Tugging on the rope to check its stability, Kiritsugu began scaling the wall. If he was actually experienced in any proper sort of magecraft, there would be a spell of some type he could use to leap or ascend to the second floor. Sometimes he regretted forgoing formal magecraft. Then he met people like Kayneth El-Melloi and his resolve against magecraft was redoubled. Apart from all this, fighting a magus with magecraft was expected and could be countered. Being unconventional is what made Kiritsugu so effective in his career.

Close to the second-floor window, Kiritsugu fumbled around in his coat pockets while holding his entire weight aloft with one arm. He pushed a button - but nothing exploded beneath him.

"What the…" He began, sparing a glance at his hand. Oh, he had pushed the wrong button. Moving his thumb an inch to the left, he pressed the send key and a large explosion tore apart the doorway beneath him. A cry of pain came from within, most likely a homunculus that was caught by the blast or shrapnel.

A window to the second floor was beneath his feet. Reinforcing the muscles in his legs, the Magus Killer leapt from the surface with enough force to crack the glass. On the return swing, he slammed into the window and carried through to the inside. Shards spewed through the interior of the room. Chunks of glass crunched beneath his feet as he landed on them.

He was in a disused bedroom, packed with ancient furniture covered by white sheets. Every visible surface in the room was covered by a thick layer of dust - and now glass. The assault rifle found itself back in Kiritsugu's hands and immediately it was pointed towards the doorway. As if on cue, a homunculus who looked similar to Irisviel burst through wielding a sword of some type.

She opened her mouth to speak, and tensed her arms to ready her weapon but a bullet pierced straight through one of her eyes and she dropped before a syllable could even be formed. The echo of a gunshot carried through the cold stone halls; Kiritsugu could hear it return a couple seconds later. He closed one eye in pain, wishing he had brought earplugs to counter the noise. It would get worse before it got better.

This room was on the northern side of the castle, Kiritsugu should be able to make it to Illya's before he encountered any major resistance. Her room was three doors down from his and Iri's old room in the north-eastern corner. The Magus Killer moved to the doorway, securing his left and right while running towards the left. The main stairway - and by extension, the foyer - was just ahead. If there was any chance at being held up, it would be there.

As he had expected, homunculi stormed up the stairway to reach the second floor. None of them had a facial structure as angular or sharp as Irisviel and each of them had some sort of defect or difference that further set them apart. Hair in buns, shaved or curly. Eyes of various shapes and angles, mouths in differing states of fullness. Kiritsugu found no sorrow in killing each one with precisely placed bullets; they weren't his wife, they were different. The first handful fell due to surprise and slow reactions. The following swarm learned from the mistakes of their predecessors and began using their weapons to deflect or block incoming rounds.

Kiritsugu continued firing into the crowd while moving down the hall. The maintained suppressive fire and bodies of their sisters halted the homunculi's progress up the stairs at least. Kiritsugu had no grenades, so area-wide elimination was out. He would just have to move faster to compensate even if his ears were ringing and his body felt faint.

After moving out of sight of the stairs, Kiritsugu sprinted down the hall, rounding a corner to the right and counting the doors as he passed.

 _One_ … The sounds of footsteps echoed behind him.

 _Two…_ How was he going to get out of here if the front entrance was so secured?

 _Three…_ the Magus Killer rammed into the door shoulder first. It was not locked, so he stumbled clumsily into the room. With a loud bang, the door rebounded off the wall and closed itself behind him. Illya was there, cowering on the bed from all the noise. With quick thinking, Kiritsugu reinforced himself and muscled a wardrobe to block the door.

Panting from the continual use of all his mana reserves, Kiritsugu turned to find his daughter.

"Daddy?" came a soft voice from a considerable sea of plush toys.

"Yes - sweetheart," he gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. His circuits were scalding him from the inside out. Every inch of his body was screaming in defiance, telling him to stop for a moment of recovery.

"Daddy!" she shouted, becoming a white missile as she latched onto his legs tightly. He struggled to maintain his balance as she collided with him. "Old man Acht said you died and left me alone!" she cried, bawling into her father's legs. Kiritsugu suddenly felt much lighter than he had when he'd entered, the touch of his daughter and the sound of her voice blurring away the pain of his injuries.

"Never, I'd never leave you. Even if we were apart, I'd find a way to get to you," he assured, resting a hand on her head. "We need to go now Illya, but put this on first," Kiritsugu reasoned, slipping both arms out of his coat to give it to her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, wearing his coat with sparkling wide eyes.

"It's not safe here, I'll tell you when we're out," he explained, lifting her up with one arm. "Cover your ears," he suggested, and she did, nestling her head against his shoulder.

The Magus Killer moved from the door and lifted his rifle with one arm. He positioned the butt of the weapon against his hip for stability, pointing it towards the doorway where footsteps shuffled from the other side. After a brief pause, a thump sounded, then a much louder noise as whoever was on the other side applied more effort into opening the door.

He was cornered and would have to fight his way out, the least desirable scenario. With Illya, his combat ability would be severely limited. Hopefully there weren't too many homunculi on the other side, otherwise, escape would be impossible.

A loud chop echoed through the bedroom, then another, and another. Harder and with greater frequency as the wardrobe shook and shuddered. After a dozen chops, the wardrobe fell over into the room and Kiritsugu fired off two quick shots. A homunculus wielding an abnormally large axe fell into the room, dead. Her sisters poured into the room to meet haphazard automatic gunfire. Bullets struck their arms, legs, torso and sometimes heads. They had been expecting concentrated fire to kill-spots, not a wild spray from the hip. While their weapons blocked most of the initial shots, injuries dropped their guard and resulting rounds finished them off.

Fully-dead, half-dead and plain crippled homunculi covered the floor. Those who were alive still crawled towards him however they could - like autonomous machines programmed with a single directive. There had been a little more than a dozen but each had fallen to simple bullets.

Seeing this, one might have thought the Einzbern homunculi were over-exaggerated. They were supposedly incredible combatants that were superhuman in nature. In a duel, a human was sure to lose every time. Even renowned combat magi would have issues handling more than two at once.

But these weren't exactly the _famed_ Einzbern homunculi. They were rejects of each batch. The Einzbern castle had six levels in total. Four of them were above ground, two were underground. Reject homunculi - expected to die and act as an alarm system in the event of an attack - occupied the above-surface floors. It was supposedly set up so that an intruder would underestimate the homunculi after moving through the ground floor and fall to the genuine homunculi shortly after entering the lower levels.

After living in this castle for so many years, Kiritsugu had memorized the passages and estimated times to move throughout the castle. It took twenty minutes to move from the secondary basement level to the main floor. That was Kiritsugu's own time unaided by magecraft or tools of any sort. A homunculus should be able to cut that time by a third. If Kiritsugu had to guess, they had two minutes or less.

He released his gun and pressed Illya's head down against his shoulder, hiding her eyes from the blood-soaked canvas he had painted with his own hands. Blood was splattered across every surface in the entranceway. Drops of the stuff even fell from the ceiling to make wet splats. Five bodies laid dead near the doorway while another group of eight had made it further inside. Of those eight, five had received crippling injuries while the other three had the appearance of swiss cheese. Multiple bullet holes oozed dark red blood to create puddles of blood on the wooden floor. The pain bearing on their minds halted their bodies in their desperate attempts to end his life. Some of the homunculi were still alive, slowly crawling along the ground or trying to stand and bear their weapons to kill him. He paid them no mind. The Magus Killer trod over and around the dead bodies and the splintered wardrobe. The sound of footsteps from the main foyer echoed from the hall he had just been in.

The Magus Killer sprinted in the opposite direction. Acht was likely unaware that he knew of other stairways and exits from the castle. There was one hidden exit that didn't require basement access and it was on the side opposite the main entrance - the south side. There was a secondary stairway there as well. It was smaller and more compact than the main stairway but it still served its purpose of linking the aboveground floors together. Theoretically, it would be clear.

Sparing a glance behind himself, he watched the first homunculus slide around the corner. This one was much more composed than those previous. Their posture was more professional, their weaponry more intimidating, they even wore basic armour to protect themselves. Based off just a cursory glance, his bullets wouldn't do much more than slow these advanced homunculi down. Awkwardly turning and running backwards, Kiritsugu tried to slow the homunculi down with suppressive fire. Pulling the trigger, a single bullet fired before a hollow _click_ sounded.

Of course something like this would happen. Kiritsugu turned, released his rifle and slipped a knife from its holster. In one swift motion, he cut the neoprene sling to let the rifle fall to the ground. Stumbling over the weapon as it landed beneath his feet took a moment, but the reduced weight increased his overall speed.

Rounding the corner to the south side, Kiritsugu focused on breathing and making sure his feet hit the ground properly. The stairwell down to the first floor was near the far end of this hall on the south-west side. Unfortunately, the exit to the castle itself was on the south-east side so he would need to double back after descending to leave.

Hitting the stairwell, he was thankful to find it empty. Taking the way down three steps at a time, he began to feel a strong ache in his chest. He had been pushing himself to the limit since this trial began, sooner or later he would collapse. Descending to the ground floor, the Magus Killer sprinted back to the south-east.

From above, he heard a woman's voice inform her comrades of his location. They knew he was heading to the exit, the question was if they would be there in time to stop him or not. Halfway to the exit, he heard feet falling. They were gaining on him, slowly but surely.

He pushed his way through a door that looked like any other, running down a short hall into another door which burst out into the frigid air outside. The cold air gave him a chill without his coat, but it made him feel as if he could go just a little further.

Taking every inch offered to him, he turned and ran towards the east. It was nowhere near where he had parked his car, but he could loop back easily enough once his tail had left him. Just as he was closing in on the corner of the castle, a man walked into view from the other side.

"Quite a performance, Kiritsugu." He spoke calmly, stopping the Magus Killer in his tracks. Even panting from all the effort he had made, a harsh glare that could cut steel still appeared on Kiritsugu's face.

"Acht," Kiritsugu spat out, throat wheezing with each breath. His vision was closing in and he could hardly keep his legs standing from all the abuse, but he would persevere for his daughter.

"I had not expected such a forceful attack from a dead man. Imagine my surprise when I was informed that the very master I employed to claim the Grail was storming my castle. You did well in striking so fast, unfortunately, your knowledge of the castle's many exits was predictable to say the least. Now then, I'll be taking my property back while the homunculi escort you to the lab. That crest of yours has been of interest to me for some time now." He paused, extending a hand lazily while closing one eye. Homunculi appeared from around the corner behind Acht.

Not one came from behind Kiritsugu however, most likely because they were pre-programmed to never leave the castle unless directly ordered. Kiritsugu knelt, letting Illya down onto her feet. She was facing Acht, so it allowed Kiritsugu to reach both hands into two pockets of his coat, the coat she was wearing. "Run," he whisper-shouted into her ear. In one fluid motion, the Magus Killer withdrew his hands and threw something with considerable speed.

Unsure of what her father meant, Illya hesitated, but when a small explosion happened just meters away her body took over and carried her into the forest. Kiritsugu had thrown a quick-rune directly into the face of one of the homunculi. Acht had brought five servants to take him on. There were four remaining as one was missing the majority of their skull. Sometimes unstable combinations of runes could be used practically. He only had one quick-rune left, _Sowulo_.

The one nearest him readied a mace and shield, another hefted a large halberd to their shoulder. Two of the homunculi assisted their "master" in moving to safety. Not that he really needed it, as the golem was likely on par with the homunculi themselves. Kiritsugu took a step forward, trying to yank the shieldbearer's leg out from underneath her. Her reactions and anticipation made the attack miss. A metal kite shield familiarized itself with his chest, sending him backwards but not toppling him yet.

The brief moment Acht had spent talking with him regenerated enough stamina to put him into a decent fighting condition. He was unable to re-engage with the shieldbearer as the homunculus wielding a halberd attempted to slice him into halves. The vertical chop lodged the axe head into the ground, puffing up a bit of snow into the air. Kiritsugu moved back out of the attack, then strode forwards and stomped one foot on the halberd head. Using it to push himself off, he planted a side kick into the homunculus' sternum. With the reinforcement of his body and the runes etched into his boots - yes, he had learned from the night of the banquet - he was as strong and as fast as these homunculi, in bursts anyway.

With one of the women out of the way, but two more joining the fight, Kiritsugu would have to step it up.

 _ **Time Alter**_ \- he paused, searing pain shooting through his skull _**\- Double Accel!**_ Moving twice as fast offered twice as much pain although he didn't let this slow him down. Kiritsugu slipped to the side of the shieldbearer who was rapidly advancing on him. With one elbow, he broke her nose. The force coupled with the doubled speed blew her backwards onto the ground. Her mace had left the grip of her hand and Kiritsugu bent at an awkward angle to collect the weapon. The former halberd user collected her own weapon and thrust it in his direction. Already half-bent front retrieving the weapon, Kiritsugu was forced to contort himself into an even more uncomfortable position to narrowly dodge the axe head. The gleaming steel slid past his midsection by inches.

As the halberd was over-extended, he was able to quickly swat the weapon back into the dirt with the shaft of the mace. The shieldbearer had managed to gather herself while her two sisters joined the fight. One was unarmed while the other wielded a two-handed blade. If Kiritsugu had to guess, the unarmed homunculi used magecraft to act in a supporting role. At least this wouldn't be four on one. In a burst of uncanny speed, the sword-wielding homunculus darted forward and slammed directly into him before he could even consider moving to attack. Using Time Alter again would destroy him in more ways than just frying his magic circuits. He was forced to rely on his natural ability until his body could recover a little bit more mana.

Trying to keep up with the homunculus was a losing battle. Barely deflecting the second strike, he was forced to drop the mace and leap backwards to catch a breath. He could hardly breathe in once before a shield slammed into his shoulder and sent him flying into the castle wall. A gristly crack sounded from his left arm - dislocated at best, broken at worst. His coat had made attacks like this so much easier to bear with.

The three armed homunculi converged on his location with disturbing coordination. Thankfully they were unable to flank him entirely, so he could backpedal further to keep all three women ahead. It was easier to manage them when they all attacked from one direction - which they did with the viciousness of rabid dogs. The halberd slashed to claim his head, jamming solidly into the castle wall. The sword came from above, nearly lodging itself in his shoulder but merely slicing a gash vertically down his chest.

The shield had oddly been missing, and the halberd had been left impaled in the castle wall. He had to focus primarily on the swordswoman while only having one arm to defend himself. The situation was beginning to look worse as the seconds carried on. If he died, would Illya be alright? He had left instructions for her in his coat if she were to look through them - hopefully she could make it out of Germany and find someone to help her.

He couldn't think like that, he would make it out of this no matter what. Gritting his teeth while digging his feet into the snow for more traction, Kiritsugu threw a glove-covered fist directly towards the incoming sword blade. A minor explosion of pressure resulted as the blade snapped backwards into the dirt behind the homunculus. She gasped in surprise, arms tensing while they tried to compensate such a force.

Deciding not to form a proper punch to save time, Kiritsugu stepped forward and swung his hand back, backhanding the swordswoman and stumbling her heavily.

The Magus Killer released a stored breath, sucking in another with care. His attacks were doing nothing, not even leaving bruises. A barely visible flash of green from behind explained everything. The supporting homunculus was healing their wounds as they were dealt. Nothing short of lethal attacks would put these girls down.

That was fine, he could do lethal strikes. A blow to the chest with enough force could theoretically pierce their torso and allow him access to their heart. If he used Time Alter, such a feat would be easy. At his current mana levels, he could use it once more with some minor permanent damage.

 _ **Time Alter**_ \- And then something collided with his head.

The projectile was part metal and part flesh, tossing him over like a ragdoll and filling his eyes with flashing stars. The world span around wildly, and he felt like vomiting. Such an impact, so much force from seemingly nowhere. He tried to stand, but the muscles in most of his body weren't responding to the signals he was sending.

He could move his head at least. He tried looking around to see the perpetrator, finding a homunculus behind him who was dusting herself off. The halberd user strode up from beside the swordswoman. There was only one thing that could have happened.

The halberd wielder had thrown the shieldbearer like a human missile, a bold move but one which obviously worked. The stars in his vision faded and the muscles in his body twitched as they handled a backlog of inputs. He tried to stand, but the swordswoman stood over him with a raised weapon.

His journey ended here, there was nothing left in his arsenal to save him. At best he could use rune magic on his own debilitated arm to create an intense explosion, but was that really worth it just to kill three simple homunculi? The sunlight glinted off the cold steel of the sword. The homunculus' arms tensed, preparing to strike downward. Kiritsugu closed his eyes, taking attacks while expecting them always instilled fear and made them hurt more. Letting it be unexpected was a small mercy.

"Daddy!" came a shout, and a shriek of metal pierced his ears. Kiritsugu's eyes snapped open. Radiant blue thread had wound itself around the blade of the sword and compressed hard enough to crumple the weapon in on itself. It was no longer a blade, but a long clumsy club. These threads were attached to a bird which flapped madly to hold back the swordswoman's arms.

Kiritsugu wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Pulling his foot up, he kicked the homunculus in the stomach and rolled backwards. Grimacing from the pain of rolling over his wounded shoulder, he popped up to stand.

 _ **Time Alter - Double Accel!**_ he commanded in mid-turn. He faced the surprised shieldbearer, jamming his fist upwards into her sternum. With a wet noise, his hand carried into the woman to root around in her vital organs. Opening and closing on his target, the woman gasped and faltered.

In half a second, her heart had been demolished. No magecraft short of Avalon would be able to regenerate something like that. Withdrawing his hand, the time alteration ended. The homunculus with the halberd had moved to collect her weapon while the thread-bird had flown around the swordbearer several times. She was wound up in thin strands of blue mana and while straining, she couldn't seem to break the thread.

Illya hadn't really left, she had been watching the whole time. He had saved her, but now that she was the one saving him, she was in danger. Acht would gather more homunculi to kill them both now, time was running short.

"Illya!" he called out, gripping his shoulder. It was only dislocated; this he could work with. "Use Zelle on the unarmed one!" he commanded, and a nervous acknowledgement came as response. Before he had left for the Grail War, he had decided that it would be best to teach Illya combat-specific magecraft should the worst scenario come to be. Working alongside Irisviel, the two developed Illya's use of Engel Note to support multiple forms. Beyond Storch Ritter - the bird construct - she had access to Zelle and Degen. The former was a gun-type creation which fired compressed balls of pure Od at targets. The latter took the shape of a dagger and could be launched at high velocities or even used as a handheld weapon should the need arise. Due to the fact that Illya had no knowledge of how the spell operated, the efficiency was lacking. Compared to her mother, Illya expended several times more mana to maintain the constructs.

A vibrant blue bullet shot across his vision, striking the supporting homunculus and spewing red across the snow. The woman slumped to the ground with empty eyes. Without a healer, he could actually injure these homunculi. He gave his head a shake to clear the stars in his eyes. Two left, one was disabled for the time being. How long Storch Ritter would hold the swordswoman was up in the air. Kiritsugu moved to engage the halberd-user, who had choked up on their weapon to begin using it more as a spear than an axe. A thrust, near miss to his midsection. A short jab too high to be a proper attack, falling onto his already dead shoulder. The surprise at its ineffectiveness was written on the homunculus' face. Treating her to a similar injury, Kiritsugu struck at the elbow. A vicious blow snapped the joint and twisted the limb at a disgusting angle. She cried out in pain and dropped her weapon. Now they both only had one arm to use.

A cracking noise sounded from the right - a telltale sign of the dwindling power of Illya's magecraft. While she had been training with Engel Note for some time, her power was still limited due to the fact that she was far from fully grown. At such a young age, her magical capabilities were actually outstanding, but her mana reserves emptied extremely quickly. It was a matter of lacking efficiency.

Leaning back and lifting a leg, Kiritsugu planted his boot onto the chest of the halberd user. She landed on her back in the snow, coughing and wheezing as her lungs betrayed her desire to fight.

More crackles sounded from the swordswoman, her muscles tensing as one strand shattered from the exertion. He couldn't move his arm, and that last attack from the halberd had probably shattered his shoulder entirely. Moving to the retained homunculus, Kiritsugu held his hand flat, jamming it between the threads into the woman's midsection. The amount of threads surrounding her chest left true vital blows out of the picture. Still, a gaping hole in the stomach would delay even the most endurable of combatants.

The bird of thread began to fade away, losing its intense blue shine. In seconds the homunculus would be free. Withdrawing his hand from the created cavity, Kiritsugu prepared a heavy punch. With a loud crack, his fist collided with the homunculus' nose. Her head snapped back and her body fell limp as she slipped into unconsciousness.

One more to handle, just one. His vision was closing in around the edges and the bright midday sun seemed hazy and dim. If he even thought about activating Time Alter for a second, he would pass out, he was at his absolute limit. Just like him, his daughter had seemingly reached her limit as well. All of the blue thread surrounding and holding up the homunculus shattered into blue sparks. Stumbling backwards, Kiritsugu reached into a pocket to withdraw the last holdout he had. It would only need a minuscule amount of mana to activate, but the _Sowulo_ quick-rune would fix his shoulder and stop him from bleeding out at least.

Pressing the cold stone to his wounded limb, a slight trickle of mana activated the stone and set the bone into place. The rock crumbled to dust within his hand as the spell traded mana and minerals to regenerate his body. All at once, pain shot through his core and distorted his vision heavily. Nerves aligned themselves and motion returned to him. The last homunculus strode towards him, confident that he would be an easy mark with only one arm.

Raising one arm as if his other one was still dislocated, Kiritsugu strode forward in time with the final homunculus. She elected to use kicks rather than punches, most likely because she had two legs and only one functioning arm. The Magus Killer raised his arms to block the first rotating kick. The force behind the attack was great enough to dig his boots into the ground. Kiritsugu even heard his forearms crack under the strain. Using the rebounding force, the homunculus planted the foot she used to kick with into the ground. Hopping up on her other foot, she thrust her heel towards Kiritsugu's gut. This was the worst mistake she could make.

With a turn and a half step backwards, her foot came in just in front of the Magus Killer. Moving in again, he caught her ankle with one hand and used his own leg to kick at her standing knee. With several brutal cracks, another limb was lost. Collapsing on her own broken leg, she cried in pain. To finish the job, Kiritsugu stepped forward. With one of her legs broken and another being held up in the air, she was forced onto her back. Rearing a bloodied fist back, the Magus Killer pistoned one fist into her nose. Her cry was cut short as her body collapsed into unconsciousness.

Kiritsugu huffed, breathing coming in ragged rasps. It had been a very long time since he had expended all his mana and continued abusing his reserves like this. He was likely to feel the effects weeks from now. Stumbling towards where he had heard Illya's voice, he spotted the girl behind a tree, trembling from the cold. Or maybe it was the fact her father was coated in blood. The wound in his chest had bled down his front, shards of bone had broken the skin on his shoulder to further coat his front, both hands were dripping with blood that wasn't his own.

The look on her face was one Kiritsugu had seen many times before. Disgust and fear rolled into a single emotion he liked to call "first-time fright". The emotion held after witnessing a loved one murder for the first time, or after killing another themselves. This was the first time Illya had watched someone die. Not only had her father slain a dozen homunculi, but she had also killed one to help him.

She was scared, of him of course. As he neared her, she seemed to back away only to remind herself that he was her father - he had played with her and cared for her since she was born.

"You did a good job, Illya," he spoke, mustering a smile. "I… I don't know if I'll be able to carry you like this, so you might have to walk on your own, alright sweetheart?" he asked, stumbling on himself and falling onto one knee.

"Daddy!" she shouted, running towards him with tears in her eyes. "You're hurt!" she pointed out, hugging onto his wounded arm. "Where's Momma? She can fix you can't she?" she asked, looking around in vain.

"She's not here right now." Kiritsugu left it there, he could explain it better to her later. "We need to get going, we have to leave here," he grumbled, rising to his feet.

The Sowulo rune would prevent him from bleeding out at least. Maybe later he could carry his daughter to the car but right now he hardly had the stamina to jog. His daughter, now stained with his blood after hugging onto him, reached up for his hand to follow him while they walked.

Acht would take a moment to get back into the castle, by the time he alerted and sent out the homunculi, they should be home free. He just needed to make it to the car. Like a machine or a man possessed, he continued on through the snow, mind focusing on a single direction as he blurred in and out of consciousness. At one point, he forgot where and who he was. The only thing he knew was that he needed to keep moving forwards. Eventually, the car came into sight, parked where he had left it. Helping his daughter enter, he settled into the driver's seat and caught his breath.

He had made it. He had rescued his daughter from the Einzbern Castle. She was crying gently in the passenger seat while shivering from the cold, but she was safe with him.

Clumsily, Kiritsugu turned the car on and tried to focus forwards. Driving in this state would be difficult. Getting even a little distance from the castle would give him time to rest and drive without seeing double. He would take it slow, he still had twenty hours before his flight left without him.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Kiritsugu had been incredibly thankful for the ten-hour flight. He had used the time to rest and heal his battered body. The change of clothes he'd had the wisdom to bring also meant he wouldn't seem like a bad haunted house mannequin. Illya had slept beside him, content with just being beside her father once more. She'd woken him after having a nightmare but otherwise the flight had been bearable. It was nine in the morning when they eventually arrived in Fuyuki. No longer did he feel as if he might fall over at any moment, his vision had corrected itself and most of his wounds had healed. His magic circuits weren't functioning at all, his shoulder still hurt a tad and it was a little sore but otherwise he was feeling rather good.

He even carried his daughter on his shoulders. All the way from the airport to their new home, on foot. Oddly enough, even after all the wounds he had just experienced, he felt better than ever. He was going to be living a normal life with his kids. Yes, kids. Shirou had come home a few days ago and had been left in the care of Taiga while he conducted his business.

Kneeling, Kiritsugu bowed his head to let his daughter dismount from his shoulders. Turning back to look up at him with wide eyes, he offered a slight smile. "This will be our new home now," he began. Her eyes widened, sparkling with wonderment as her face split with joy. Being pent up in that distant castle would make the most simple things seem amazing.

Kiritsugu couldn't help but smile, pushing the front gate open to reveal the mansion within. Illya turned, exclaiming surprise as she admired the traditional, rustic design. "Here? This is really cool!" With pent-up enthusiasm, she ran down the path to the front door and tried to push it open. It didn't budge, and she looked around the edges with confusion.

"You have to slide it, sweetheart," Kiritsugu pointed out with a chuckle, watching her open the door and race inside. "And take off your shoes!" he called out, watching her abruptly stop to do as ordered. Racing from around the corner, Taija came into sight. Her eyes flashed with rage and bewilderment from the foreign girl, but upon seeing Kiritsugu shamble up the walk she seemed to soften and acknowledge what was going on.

"Kiritsugu! You weren't gone for very long, how did your business go?" she asked once he was in range, glancing between the new girl and him. "And who is this cutie?" she asked with a bright smile.

Illya seemed to shy away immediately, blushing from the compliment and overall confident air surrounding the older girl. Placing one hand on her hip, Taiga peered down and ruffled the snow-white hair of the albino.

"That would be my daughter." Kiritsugu peeled off his shoes, thankful to be out of them finally. It had taken him well over twenty minutes to wash the blood off in the plane.

"Oh!" The teen seemed to brighten further. Perhaps having two new children living nearby was the cause? "Well you can call me Fuji-nee!" She shouted like the title was something of knightly honour.

"My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern, it's so nice to meet you Fuji-nee!" Illya greeted with unbridled excitement.

"Fuji-nee, hm?" Kiritsugu mumbled to himself, stretching languidly and smirking as a teasing thought came to mind. "Was Taiga too formal?"

"N-No, I just -" Taiga began, rose appearing on her cheeks.

Kiritsugu chuckled, waving with his hand. "I'm just kidding. I appreciate you taking the time to watch over Shirou. Hopefully, he wasn't too much of a handful." As he spoke, red hair peeked out from around the corner. Golden eyes locked onto dull black and a glimmer of recognition flashed between the two.

"Kiritsugu!" came a shout and then the sound of bare feet. He stopped behind Taiga, marvelling at Illya who both shared similar expressions.

"Who are you?" the two children asked simultaneously, getting a laugh from the older members.

"Shirou, this is Illyasviel. Illya, this is Shirou," Kiritsugu explained. "Illya is my daughter, and you're my son." Kiritsugu scratched the back of his neck. "I hope you two can get along together." His eyes landed on Taiga, who was beaming with closed eyes. "I'm sure your father would like you back home, Taiga. I'd also like to rest after such a long journey."

Acknowledging the fact she was intruding, Taiga nodded and said her goodbyes. In a minute she was gone, leaving the Emiya family alone. All the while, the two children whispered to one another as their father sighed in exhaustion.

"How come he gets to call himself _Emiya_ when I'm _von Einzbern_?" Illya whined, pouting.

"And how can she be older than I am!" Shirou chimed in with the same whiny tone.

Kiritsugu could only laugh at his unfortunate position.

… … …

So Illya was his older sister? But she called him big brother. That was confusing to begin with. When Kiritsugu started explaining it all - it just got worse! She was from Germany and was also a wizard like the old man. She wasn't going to go to school with him, but they were all going to live together regardless. Kiritsugu hadn't said anything, but Shirou made it his own personal mission to protect her at any cost. It was what a big brother should do, wasn't it?

He closed one eye as a finger poked his cheek. "Hey! Were you listening?" Illya asked. They were about the same height, so her bright red eyes were rather imposing.

"Uh, yeah! You were saying…" Shirou trailed on. He hadn't been listening at all. Illya pouted, making a noise of frustration.

"You idiot, you have to listen when a girl is talking to you or you'll just get her mad at you!" she chastised, placing both hands on her hips and leaning forward into his space.

Reflexively, Shirou leaned his head back. "Alright, I'll try to listen better from now on." He stepped back, scratching his neck with closed eyes. "I guess."

Illya smiled and leaned back into her own space. "You'll just have to make it up to me later." Her voice was sweet, but the tone behind it was pure malice.

"M-make it up to you?"

"Ah-huh. Maybe not now, but sometime later you'll have to do something for me to pay me back alright?" Kiritsugu had taken him aside and told him that Illya hadn't really had anyone her age to play with so she might have been shy. Shirou was prepared for that, he could easily see himself trying to drag someone reclusive into doing something fun. What he hadn't expected was for the girl to be more sociable even he was trying to be.

Shirou nodded. "Alright, I guess I owe you then."

The two of them were in the kitchen, talking as they waited for Kiritsugu. Shirou had noticed he was bleeding underneath his shirt but hadn't commented on the matter. He didn't really know what being a wizard meant or what it entailed, but it was obviously something best left private. All Shirou knew was that he had gone away for a brief time and now he was back with his sister - he didn't have to know any details.

There was a sneeze from the hallway before the door to the kitchen slid open. Holding his head high, Kiritsugu came into sight. He sneezed once more before shaking his head and looking at his two children.

"I was thinking we could go to the park nearby. It would give you two somewhere to play and a chance to get to know one another." He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. There was a slight curve in his lips, almost like he was trying to repress the happiness he was feeling.

Illya spoke before Shirou could even think about his answer. "Daddy I'm still in my pyjamas!"

"Well, I wasn't thinking about going right this instant. We'll get cleaned up before we go out." He pushed off the door with his shoulder, sucking a breath through his teeth. "Now who's going to the bath first?"

"Huh? We have to take turns? Shirou can just bathe with me!" Illya shouted with innocent reasoning. The other two people in the room almost flinched at such a prospect. Shirou's throat closed up from embarrassment while Kiritsugu only chuckled nervously.

"Let's just bathe separately, ok?" Kiritsugu settled, holding his hands out passively as his daughter whined.

… … ….

Shirou enjoyed having a sister. She was even more interested in the world than he was. The sidewalk, the streets, the buildings, the playground and the other children all fascinated her. It was like she had never seen anything besides her own room for her entire life.

Shirou had to teach her how to play hide and seek and tag. He taught her how to use jump-rope which she was incredibly good at after learning!

The other kids came over to admire her snow-white hair and bright red eyes. All day Illya was incredibly sociable and made friends near instantly! With the new group of kids, they were able to play more games like freeze tag, fox hole and red rover.

Kiritsugu had pulled the two of them away so they could have a break and snack. Sitting on a bench, drinking from a juice box, Shirou thought about himself for a moment. He was enjoying himself, surprising when such a tragedy had happened only a week and a bit ago.

It had been rather hard to feel anything after the Great Fire. Since he couldn't remember anything about what he had lost in the flames, he couldn't grieve. He didn't feel sadness for loved ones who may have died or regret for not being able to escape. Having no memories alleviated him of that burden at least.

Only…he had something else on his mind. Echoing screams, cursed flame that never stopped burning, molten corpses begging for a saviour, reaching out to him as he walked asking for his help. Sometimes they beckoned for death, relief from such indescribable pain. Shirou had strode by each one, doing his best to block out everything around him. His logic had been that if he continued walking, eventually he would find the way out of this hell. Since he'd had no idea which way was up, down or sideways after the explosion, he had decided on one path and walked onwards.

He had fallen when his mind refused to cooperate. It had given up and collapsed his body into the rubble. His spirit still screamed for him to fight, begged his body and mind to get back up and continue walking. But there were no screams or pain in the pile of rubble and the rain falling on his face was so cooling.

As a last-ditch effort on part of his indomitable spirit, he had reached up to the sky as if it held the answer to his problems - and that was when Kiritsugu had found him. He had been happy to be rescued, but a pang of sadness came alongside it. Was he the only one who had been rescued? The banshee-like screams had fallen silent and the bright orange glow of flames had ebbed away. Shirou couldn't focus on anything else besides Kiritsugu's face.

He seemed so… Like he was… It was the face of absolute elation. It was an emotion Shirou couldn't describe due to how convoluted and strong it was. Would it be wrong to say he envied his father for the look on his face that day? He desired to understand the emotion, to feel and experience it for himself.

Shirou caught Illya staring at him from one side. A smirk grew on her face. "Big brother, your eyes change colour when you think." Shirou felt a rush of heat flow to his cheeks.

"They do?" he asked, unsure.

"Ah-huh. They're normally goldish but when you think they turn cold and a little bit gray," Illya explained, sitting back and kicking her feet idly.

Kiritsugu turned to look at the two of them, listening in on the conversation. "Did you want to go play with the other kids again?" Shirou asked, diverting the subject in any direction he could.

Illya shook her head. She must be tired. From the side, Kiritsugu cleared his throat to get their attention. "Maybe I can make a suggestion." He faced forwards and pointed a finger out into the park. "Do you see that girl there?" Shirou tried to follow his finger but couldn't quite figure out who he was referring to. Leaning down, Kiritsugu tried to point with more precision on their level. "Right there, under the tree."

Shirou tried to get behind Kiritsugu's arm, following the tip of his finger to a girl with purple hair. "I see her!" Shirou shouted first, getting a smile from his father. Illya pouted and mumbled something in defeat.

"I'd like you to introduce yourselves to her. Talk to her, can you do that for me?" Kiritsugu asked, voice much more hollow than it had been. Peering upwards, Shirou noticed his eyes seemed distant, or maybe they were sad?

Shirou turned to look at Illya, who shared his expression of confusion. Suddenly, she giggled and leapt from the bench. "Last one there's a big loser!" she chanted while sprinting towards the girl. Trying not to be the big loser, Shirou ran after his sister. With all the commotion, the purple-haired girl lifted her head up. She seemed to gain a look of recognition and she briefly lifted one hand, hinting at a wave. Looking backwards, Shirou watched Kiritsugu return the same slight wave. Did they know each other?

Ilya's taunting broke him from the question. For a girl as short as she was, she was really fast! Shirou was starting to wonder if everything was a lie and nothing was as it seemed. Next thing he'd be told was that his father was some sort of assassin. Pfft!

… … …

Illya had fallen asleep after playing for so long. It was sundown when they left and even Shirou himself was tired. Kiritsugu was carrying Illya in his arms as the two boys walked back home. This park wasn't very far from their home, and it wasn't very far for Sakura either!

They had met the purple haired girl and played lots of games with her as well. It had taken some convincing from his sister but eventually, Sakura joined in. Illya had actually dragged her to the playground and thrown her into an ongoing game of tag. She had seemed reluctant to start, but after the first round she'd gotten interested and Shirou thought he saw her smile.

Today was great, he had a new sister and they had lots of fun. He got to know her a lot better and Shirou found himself admiring how smart she was. Some of the kids were telling stories and Illya gave some of her own. The stories were long but Illya made them interesting with her motions and enthusiasm. One was about a wizard and his apprentice who went around killing vampires across the whole world. The two worked together to overcome unbeatable odds using teamwork and their friendship. Shirou liked that one the best because the wizard always saved as many people as he could. He couldn't save the vampires, but he tried at least!

There was only one thing Shirou couldn't get out of his head. Several times when he had looked towards the old man on the bench, he looked sad. At the start of the day he seemed to be perpetually smiling while he watched Illya and him play, but after they brought Sakura into their games he looked upset. He was smiling partly only his eyes seemed…dark. Shirou didn't know why, but he figured it must have been because of Sakura.

Kiritsugu's eyes slid over, breaking him from thought. "Did you have fun today, Shirou?"

"Yeah! Illya is cool and she's really smart!" Shirou spoke with a bright smile. Kiritsugu seemed to soften, shoulders relaxing and face settling to look pleased.

"That's good to hear. She's never been to a school, so I hope she'll be able to do well with what I've taught her." Kiritsugu commented.

" _You_ taught her all that?" Shirou's jaw dropped. The old man nodded softly. "Can you teach me stuff like that?"

The dark haired man went quiet for a moment, pursing his lips as if the answer to that question was something that brought up great internal debate. There were a whole ten seconds of silence before Kiritsugu answered. "I could. Before I do, I'll have to explain what I'll be teaching you as clearly as I can."

Shirou's mind exploded, something as ominous as that could only mean one thing. "Are you going to teach me to be a wizard?!" he shouted with more enthusiasm than he had meant to.

Kiritsugu hummed. "We're not wizards, we're mages. Magi if you'd like to be official."

"Is Illya a wi- magus?" Shirou asked, interest in the girl growing exponentially. Kiritsugu's response was a short nod as he looked down at her sleeping face. A smile spread across Shirou's face. His new sister was smart, pretty, friendly and to top it all off - she could teach him magic! With newfound energy, Shirou walked beside his father with pride.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Kiritsugu closed the door to Illya's bedroom. They had come back home from the park hours ago. Illya had woken up when they arrived and she went off with Shirou to explore the house. After that, Kiritsugu had tried to cook dinner for them all. He had a lot of trouble trying to make even scrambled eggs. They seemed to burn almost as soon as he dropped them into the pan. Shirou had come on account of the smell and taken interest in cooking.

He was able to scramble some eggs and make toast like he had done it a hundred times before. Shirou claimed he had never been in a kitchen before, to his knowledge anyway. They threw away the smouldering wreck that was Kiritsugu's attempt.

The Magus Killer fixed the collar of his coat with one hand, checking the time via the clock on the wall. Nine thirty. Far from his usual midnight owl style, darkness was darkness. He had jobs to do today, very important ones. First on his list was following up on one Byakuya Matou. He knew the address and it was north of the Grail explosion. A residential section of high-class housing. Kiritsugu didn't want to think about how many had died in their homes, unaware of any danger. It would be good to at least verify whether or not the Matou was alive. If he was, he wouldn't be for long.

Kiritsugu set up a decent bounded field, spending a few minutes to alter its signature. It would be entirely invisible to the average magus and would only make itself known if someone entered. It wasn't a deterrent, just a simple warning bell. Taking up his Contender and Calico once more, the Magus Killer took off without another delay.

… … …

Scanning through the wreckage of the home, Kiritsugu could certify one thing. Byakuya wasn't here. If he was dead or if he had made it out alive was up to debate. The entire block of buildings had burnt down and it seemed that a few of them had spontaneously exploded from the inside out.

Kiritsugu wouldn't claim to be an expert on omnipotent magic running rampant, but he would like to think it was caused by the Grail.

Until a body or some sort of hard evidence or a body was discovered, Byakuya couldn't be removed from the list of potential enemies. Kiritsugu stood from his crouched position. The charred rubble wasn't going to give him any answers. A shiver suddenly ran down his neck. Reflexively, the Magus Killer drew the Calico and turned to face whoever was watching him.

"I see your reactions haven't dulled. I'm surprised, I would have thought the cursed goo of the Grail would render you cripple." The sickly grating voice of the elder Matou rolled along the ground.

Kiritsugu set his jaw, trying to find his target. What did he mean, render him cripple? Just how familiar with the Grail was this man? "I was never affected by the Grail, Zouken," he decided on revealing. Perhaps if he offered some civility, answers would be returned.

"So that is how you managed to breach the Einzbern castle. Jubstacheit told me you were akin to a wild beast. Fast and sloppy but ravenous enough to forgo efficiency." The old worm chuckled, forming his "human" body from a swarming mass of worms which came from every crack and crevice.

"Get to the point, like me you're here for a reason." Kiritsugu hastened, finger squeezing a fraction tighter against the trigger. These bullets wouldn't do anything, but Zouken could feel pain at the very least.

That laugh, a wet, sharp noise that accentuated each syllable, came as response. "I'm here to speak with you of course. You've kept me waiting at this spot for several days. I had expected you to come much sooner although after hearing your exploits in Germany, I can understand the delay." He paused to allow a rotten smile to split his face. "How is Illyasviel-"

"You leave her out of this you son of a bitch!" Kiritsugu shouted with sudden rage.

"My my, hit a soft spot have I?" Zouken laughed again, purposely trying to irritate the Magus Killer. "A reminder that I never burnt down _your_ house and destroyed _your_ workshop, kidnapped _your_ child."

"She's not your child, worm," Kiritsugu pointed out, squinting to keep his face from twitching.

"Oh but she is. Our agreement decided that much, now didn't It?" When the Magus Killer pursed his lips tighter, Zouken laughed.

… … …

… … …

… … …

A week ago, Kiritsugu had made a desperate sprint to Sakura's room. Insects were crawling along the ground and the ceiling. Zouken was here, in his home. Kiritsugu knew exactly what he was looking for as well. Throwing open the door to Sakura's room, he discovered he was too late. The old man was standing behind a crying girl.

"You bastard, you touch her and I'll kill you!" Kiritsugu took one step forward and a wall of insects moved to meet him. Zouken laid a greasy hand on top of the girl's head.

"I don't think you understand the situation. You're surrounded and you have nothing to defend yourself with," Zouken pointed out casually. The chattering of thousands of insects became known as thousand of insects became a sea around the Magus Killer. As much as he hated to admit it, the worm was right. The Contender might work in this situation but he wouldn't have time to draw and fire the weapon.

Through gritted teeth, Kiritsugu spoke. "I'll come after you, I won't let you take her."

"You have no choice," Zouken snapped back, offering a slice into the reality of the situation.

"You know I won't stop-"

"Which is why I propose a deal," Zouken interrupted surprisingly. "An agreement. I know you will not stop until your goals are achieved. I also don't doubt you have ways to permanently injure me should I choose to attack right now. I don't wish to have myself or Sakura harmed so an equal trade is in order."

Kiritsugu thought for a moment. He actually had no idea if his Contender would work or not. "What are the terms?"

"I take Sakura and you leave us alone. That is my side of the bargain," Zouken established, leaving this agreement open for input.

Kiritsugu's mind raced. If Sakura going with the old man was inevitable, Kiritsugu would have to find other bargaining chips for the girl. Clenching his jaw as he considered what he should ask for, the Magus Killer decided on a couple things. "She'll be able to leave the house whenever she chooses," he began with, getting a slow nod from the old worm. "And you'll allow contact between her and I." Another nod. "And you will cause me no trouble in the future, this extends to my family members," he decided.

"Tsk. A man like you has family? So be it, they will be spared."

It was Kiritsugu's turn to nod now. "In retur,n I promise to never interfere with your business, as foul and rotten as it may be." The two shared a look of acceptance before Kiritsugu looked towards the crying girl. There was resentment in her eyes, but more than that there was just plain sadness. She had been enjoying her time away from Zouken and now she would be forced back into the torturous training.

He hoped she would find some comfort knowing there were people who cared for her, that would fight for her if they could. He did his best to give her opportunities to be a normal girl, although if that would hurt or help her was uncertain.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"I know you're looking for Byakuya," Zouken commented after he was finished laughing. "He died in the blast you caused unfortunately. I'll be taking his son into my home as well. Just like you, I'll have two children running around." Zouken squinted. "Let's see which one is the least mentally unstable in a few years - we can have a contest." The old worm laughed again, but it was cut short as 9mm rounds peppered his front.

The Magus Killer was done talking for now. He didn't move back as he fired, emptying the entire fifty-round magazine into the squirming mass of insects. When the gun clicked to a stop, Zouken had turned into a squirming pile of something which barely resembled a human. Replacing the smoking gun in his coat, Kiritsugu turned and stormed off as the distant chuckling of a decrepit old man followed his heels.

… … …

Tokiomi Tohsaka had seemingly dropped off the face of the War following the scene at the docks. Archer had only revealed his face at the banquet and no other servant had expressed seeing him elsewhere.

Kiritsugu thought it was time to discover what exactly had happened to the master. There was no easier way to discover the fate of someone than by looking through their home.

You could tell a lot about what happened to another just on the state of their house. If it was in disarray and things were thrown haphazardly about, it was likely murder and someone had been looking for something. If everything was unnaturally clean and ordered, a professional may have completed a contract and they were hiding their tracks - or the victim knew he would be killed and they were purposefully cleaning things so that even the most minute detail out of place would be noticed.

If the home was lived in, a decent mix of order and chaos, they were unexpectedly killed. It also meant one could find clues into how the murder was conducted which might eventually lead to finding the killer, or the victim if they weren't dead but only missing.

Kiritsugu's elbow broke the glass to the back door. Reaching in, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Cautiously, the Magus Killer crept into what appeared to be a kitchen. It was fabulously done, with granite countertops and contemporary facings. It must have cost an absolute fortune to have such a complete renovation.

Obviously, the Tohsaka were much better off than the Matou. So why had they given off their daughter like cattle? Sneaking through the house as quiet as a mouse, he moved around corners and explored the home. It was dark but seemed lived in. Based off the very sparse layer of dust on the furniture, it had been untouched for days, possibly weeks.

Kiritsugu gently closed the door to one of the bedrooms behind him. This level of the house was checked - nothing out of the ordinary. He moved and repeated his careful investigation of the second floor, finding similar results: nothing.

Stumped, Kiritsugu decided to look around for a secret entrance like he had in the Matou house. The only difference here was that there wasn't a swarm of insects prepared to kill him at his next step. It took two hours to actually find the hidden way down. He had to go through a false panel in a bedroom to a hidden stairway underneath the original staircase of the house. Upon stepping onto the stairs, a disgusting smell reached his nose. It was almost worse than the Matou basement. It seemed that mage families in Fuyuki shared similar preferences in design.

Pressing onwards, Kiritsugu found he had to lift his sleeve to his nose to keep himself from gagging. This was definitely worse than the Matou crypt, no doubt about it. A light from below cast shadows on the wall. Stepping down into the room, Kiritsugu took notice of the abundant stacks of books and magecraft-related items. One of these items was a mana powered fax machine. It used crystals to store mana and connect to a "frequency" for sending information. The machine was clogged with paper that had been left unattended. Another one of these items was a phonograph - at least that was what it appeared to be. Kiritsugu knew that it operated much like a telephone, allowing one magus to speak with another on the same signal. In his mind, they were dated, useless devices.

Then Kiritsugu looked towards the back of the room. He had to stop himself from retching. Two pillars had been erected from seemingly nowhere. They pierced the floor and ceiling, acting as anchors for chains. These chains came from each corner to connect to…

And this was where the description of _what_ he was looking at went into the assumptions. It was dim, but a light cast a sickly orange glow on something suspended from chains. It was a man, formerly a man at least. Their skin was peeled to reveal sensitive nerves and muscle tissue. All four limbs had been amputated at the first joint. Eye hooks had been screwed into each stump and these were attached to the chains. With the tension, the amputated limbs were stretched to the point of tearing.

The man's jaw had been removed surgically. A large tube, complete witha funnel, had been rammed down their throat. The tube was most likely there to feed the victim to keep them alive; Archer couldn't have his source of mana dying on him. Blades took the place of the victim's eyes, handles sticking out from the sockets. Even though the corpse was without skin, lacerations from whips or blades could be made out in the surface of their bloody figure.

Kiritsugu held back the urge to release his dinner right then, closing his eyes to offer some reprieve. This was what Archer had done to Tokiomi. When the servant and master had grown apart in terms of cooperation, Archer decided taking the reigns would be for the best.

Such an extreme measure had to be taken due to the simple fact that Command Seals existed. Command Seals were recognized to require a formal pronunciation for their activation, but that wasn't the case at all. If a master desired, they could use a Command Seal with nothing more than a thought. Since it wasn't required to actually _speak_ the order, the mind had to be driven away from the order entirely.

A gruesome method, but effective.

Kiritsugu took a breath, gagging off the smell. This wasn't any good. Even if he got rid of the body, the evidence would remain. Caster had said Rin Tohsaka was important - so it would probably be a bad idea to destroy her father's workshop. The best he could do was burn the body and try to rid his bodily fluids from the area.

The smell would remain for years to come, but a bad smell was better than seeing _this_. Cautiously, Kiritsugu moved to the front of the torture victim. It had been a bit better than a week since the end of the War but how long Tokiomi actually managed to survive was appalling.

Kiritsugu reached up to unclasp the carabiner holding the tortured body in its rack. Suddenly, the body shook violently and a gurgle escaped from around the tube. Kiritsugu leapt back in fear, knocking books over onto the table behind him. Tokiomi was _alive_?

The Magus Killer blinked once, before understanding what he must do. In one quick motion, a knife was withdrawn and impaled into the former magus' heart. As the torture victim stopped twitching and jerking in their bindings, Kiritsugu made a tally in his mind. Kirei Kotomine, Kayneth El-Melloi, Kariya Matou, Smiles and now Tokiomi Tohsaka. Over the course of the War, he had personally killed five magi who were touted as being the best in their class.

Blood dripped from the handle of the blade, making a splat as it landed in a puddle along the ground. As the flow of mana ended, the light illuminating the room faded as well. Slowly the basement succumbed to pitch blackness. The only thing visible in the darkness were the cold eyes of the Magus Killer. Unfeeling, ruthless, efficient.

At least his moniker was fitting.

* * *

 **I dunno. I went on Christmas Holiday's all: "I won't work on Unbalanced Scales at all, I'll have a nice long break with nothing to do blah-blah…" Then my entire time spent on break was either writing or nothing - no in-between. After releasing this chapter though, we've reached the 100k word bracket! Which means we've moved into the big-boy realm where every search for length will have Fate: Unbalanced Scales in it! I'm so proud, this is the first milestone and I hope to have plenty more!**

 **I've decided on keeping my writing westernized. So no Onii-chan or excessive Japanese terms. I'm much more familiar in writing with this style and I feel like I can provide a better experience if I just write in a way I'm comfortable with. (And writing from the perspective of children is hard enough as is). So no last names first and Taiga - or rather Fuji-nee - will be one of the only people with names out of my comfort zone since that's her nickname and even in the English dub it was included.**

 **In this chapter, I wanted to get a lot of the story telling and wrap up finished in a single chapter. There's still some ends that need to be tied up but this chapter reveals a lot of unspoken issues like Sakura, Illya, Byakuya, and Tokiomi.**

 **Anywho, rambling over. Started the next semester of my uni, so I'll let you guys know regarding the rate of chapters and such. Feel free to follow, favourite and if you could, leave a review! The more reviews, the more public this fiction gets!**


	9. Fundamentals of Magecraft

**EDIT:** ** _To protect the ring we must kill the hobbits_. Sorry, was watching LOTR and got it stuck in my head.**

 **We reached two new milestones with the last chapter on the same day! The first one I've been anticipating for some time was the first 10 thousand views! That's right, on 01/05/2018 we reached 10,000 views! On this very same day, Fate: Unbalanced scales also received 1.1 THOUSAND views! I had always wondered what it would be like, never would I have thought it would become so popular. A few days later we also reached the THIRD milestone. 100 total favourites!**

 _ **If you missed it last chapter, there was a small error in writing. I had written that Kiritsugu was healed by Avalon following his fight at the Einzbern castle however this is NOT true. He never removed Avalon from Shirou and his wounds were healed by the Sowulo rune. I had initially planned and written as if Avalon had been taken but after some consideration, I decided it would be better to leave it in Shirou. I apologize for any confusion this may cause.**_

 **All my thanks goes to you, my readers and my wonderful beta who has provided unbelievable levels of assistance throughout these last two chapters.**

 **Without any of you, Fate: Unbalanced Scales would never exist! If I hadn't received such inspiring reviews and an astonishing amount of visits I would have never continued beyond the first chapter. What had been some idea at 3 AM on how to vent my stress and entertain myself would have ended right there.**

 **The level of pride this fanfiction has instilled in me is indescribable. To check in every day and see new viewers interested in my writing and leaving such kind words never fails to bring a massive smile to my face. Since this website is linked to my phone, every time I get an email notification I'm hoping it's another review. Even if it's critiquing my work I'm always interested in what anyone has to say. It's why I've allowed guest reviews and try to push people to speak up so much!**

 **I've seen some pretty cool fanart acting as the cover image for a lot of these fanfictions. I'm terrible at art but if a dedicated fan is good at art I'd be more than happy to allow it to premiere as the cover of Fate:US. I just found the current one on google and figured it fit enough with the main message.**

 **Before I start sounding like an old lady reminiscing about her grandchildren though, I should really move on to what you've all come here for - the next chapter!**

 **Oh! Check out my new fanfiction I've started! It features an entirely new story with all new characters in the Fate world. Give it a try, if you like my writing style then you'll probably enjoy it!**

* * *

The first streams of a rising sun began to peek into the room. It was almost empty. There was a small desk free of knick-knacks or dust, a child's suitcase and a futon with a thick yellowish-green blanket. As the room slowly grew to hold a warm orange shade, the lump beneath the blanket jerked suddenly and sat upright. It was Shirou. He didn't scream or shout, but his chest was heaving and his eyes were panicked. A thin layer of cold sweat covered his body and he was trembling uncontrollably.

It was that nightmare again. He was getting used to it, but he still woke up terrified each time. The nightmare had been reality a few weeks ago and it refused to leave his mind no matter what he did. Those cursed flames and endless screams were almost etched into his brain at this point. It was starting to get so bad that the orange glow of flames could be seen every time he closed his eyes.

Wiping his forehead, the boy got up from the futon and looked himself over. He'd need to have a bath this morning for sure. Feeling disgusting, he peeled off his pyjama top and threw it towards one side of the room. He'd put it through the wash after he put himself through one first.

Unlike other children his age, Shirou liked waking up early. It was peaceful in the mornings. Animals were waking up to greet the gorgeous sunrise, breakfast was being made and families were preparing for work and school. Shirou slid the door to his room open, peeking left and right down the hall before stepping out and creeping towards the bathroom.

It was down the hall on his left and looked just like any other door in the house - they should really get some sort of hanger or indicator that someone was inside or that the room was a bathroom in the first place. Since every door in this house - besides a handful of the bedrooms - was a sliding door, there was no lock or way to stop someone from walking straight into the bathroom. Stopping outside, Shirou knocked on the wooden frame of the door. Two seconds passed without response so he slid the door open and walked into the empty room.

It was a simple bathroom, modernized with western elements - specifically the two-in-one bathtub-shower. It was incredibly different when compared to the rest of the house which was traditionalist Japanese. Maybe the previous owner thought this style was better?

Shirou turned on the water and tested its temperature with his hand. Hopefully, a nice bath would clear his mind from that nightmare. When the water was pleasantly warm and the bath was filled, Shirou disrobed and settled in. Immediately he felt the grime of his sweat wash away and the post-nightmare stress left with it. Sitting in the water, he took a moment to look around the bathroom. Above the bathtub was a double-wide frosted window set high on the wall. It was mostly to let sunlight into the room rather than provide any vision to the outside. Shirou wouldn't call it private, however, since it pointed towards the house of their next-door neighbour.

Shirou had taken over cleaning the rooms of his own accord. Kiritsugu had tried the first few days but after Shirou watched what he was doing, the old man was banned from housekeeping. Neither of them minded that decision. Kiritsugu hated cleaning while Shirou found it relaxing, if not slightly pleasant.

Shirou washed his hair and listened to the early spring birds sing outside before trying to relax. The first night he had these nightmares he had woken up screaming. Kiritsugu had thought he was being murdered and had practically cannonballed through the wall. After he found out the cause, the old man made him some tea and stayed up all night until dawn. Kiritsugu suggested Shirou do something he did whenever his past started getting to him. _Forget_.

Could he really forget something like the Great Fire? Shirou could relive that moment in such vivid detail whenever he wanted - and sometimes when he didn't. If he thought hard enough it was almost like he was back walking through the flames.

There was a soft thump from a nearby room but Shirou was too deep in thought to notice. After a few seconds, footsteps pattered down the hallway. It wasn't until the door to the bathroom slid open that he realized someone was even coming.

There was a splashing noise as Shirou jerked in panic, then another as he ducked his head to sit just above the surface of the water. He squeaked out a noise of embarrassment while looking to see who had stumbled in. It was Illya, standing in the door rubbing her eyes sleepily. She was wearing her pyjamas and had probably come in because she wanted to brush her teeth.

She blinked twice before realizing what was even happening. Her face changed colours to match her eyes and she slammed the door closed while shouting apologies. "The door wasn't locked!" she defended herself.

"There isn't a lock!" Shirou pointed out, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Well we should get one!" Illya shouted back. Frustrated footsteps sounded as she walked back toward her room. Shirou let out a breath and tried to relax again. It only took a couple seconds for him to realize that wasn't going to happen - he was too startled now. Deciding that his bath was good enough, the boy left the warmth of the water and wrapped a relatively large towel around himself. Cautiously, he opened the door and looked to the right...nothing. He turned his head left and found himself inches away from Illya's frustrated face.

"Are you done in there?" Illya mumbled with some frustration. She squeezed past him right into the bathroom. Doing his best to avoid her, Shirou awkwardly moved into the hallway while the door almost slid closed on him.

He blinked in confusion as he slowly stepped back towards his room. "Why's she so mad?"

"I don't know," Kiritsugu commented, scratching his jaw as he stepped out of his room. "She usually likes mornings, that is, if she has something to do anyway." He shrugged. The old man hadn't shaved in a while - all the stubble coming through on his face and the poorly cut, half burnt hair made him look wild in Shirou's mind.

Shirou looked up towards his father and felt a pit growing in his stomach. Shirou and Illya had been yelling rather loudly earlier and Kiritsugu wasn't a very sound sleeper; even little movements in the house seemed to disturb his slumber. "Did we wake you up?"

Kiritsugu chuckled briefly before shaking his head. "I've been up for an hour or so."

From the bathroom, Illya shouted a language Shirou didn't understand. "Liar! I heard you moving around _four_ hours ago!" Did Illya know how to speak other languages?

Whatever she said made the old man flinch. "I might not have been able to go to sleep." Shirou frowned, accusing the old man with his eyes alone. Shirou didn't like hearing his father was having problems with rest. Being experienced with lack of sleep first-hand meant Shirou was familiar with the effects himself. "I'll have a nap in the afternoon alright?" He smirked, stepping into the hallway and past his son. "Go get dressed, then you and I can argue about sleep alright?"

Shirou looked down at himself, noticed the state of his appearance and hastily moved to correct it.

… … …

The newly formed family knelt around the table in the dining room. While Kiritsugu knew _how_ to cook, he couldn't execute it properly. Shirou was the exact opposite, so with the two of them working in the kitchen, they were able to make a simple breakfast. Their groceries were rather limited in terms of variety. Rice, eggs and bread were all they had. Still, Kiritsugu combined his knowledge of Eastern and Western breakfast meals to get something on the table. When they were done, they all ate toast with jam and a dish Kiritsugu had called "tamago kake gohan". It was simple after Shirou learned what it was - steamed rice with a raw egg dropped on top while the rice was still hot. With a dash of soy sauce the quick meal was rather tasty.

Kiritsugu took a sip from a mug of coffee he had made himself. "I was thinking of calling Taiga to see if she wanted to do something with you two today," he mentioned, looking into his cup for a second before glancing between his two children.

Shirou didn't even have to think twice. "That'd be cool! Taiga told me stories about all these places in Fuyuki I've never heard of!" He glanced towards Illya, who seemed excited just to be able to explore outside the house.

"That's great, it will give me some time to get a few things we'll need. Just don't cause the girl too much trouble alright?" Kiritsugu smiled as the two enthusiastically agreed. He took another drink from his mug. "I'll give her a call right now and you two can go get dressed." The old man stood with some effort before moving to clean up the dishes.

Shirou was suddenly pushed over onto his side by a giggling girl as she leapt from her kneeling position and bolted towards the door. "Hey!" Shirou shouted with a laugh, scrambling to chase after her.

Illya turned a few steps down the hall and stopped abruptly. "Daddy says I don't have to wear a coat since I'm used to the cold, but you do!" She put both hands on her hips and stuck out her tongue teasingly.

"What? That's not fair!"

"You're both wearing coats!" came Kiritsugu's voice from the kitchen.

… … …

… … …

Taiga had been more than happy to show Illya and Shirou around town. She had come by like a lightning bolt after Kiritsugu called even though they weren't even ready to leave. Was everyone around here a morning person?

Shirou noticed something in Taiga's eyes everytime she looked at Kiritsugu but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. She seemed to move closer to him whenever he could and she listened to his words like gospel.

It was a mystery for certain. Shirou stood on his toes to peer into a window of a nearby shop. This one was smaller than the others and it held all sorts of rings, bracelets and earrings. Shirou noticed they were all very small and discreet but the prices posted nearby were anything but.

Taiga leaned over top of him. "Have you already found a girlfriend, Shirou?" she teased, smirking as the boy flustered and tried to defend himself. "I can only guess how many girls would want to date the strongest boy in Fuyuki," she teased, ruffling his hair and snickering.

Illya suddenly joined the conversation, looking between the two. "Shirou has a girlfriend already?" she asked, almost sounding upset. Was she pouting? Suddenly her face turned to confusion. "What do you mean the strongest boy in Fuyuki?"

"Huh? Kiritsugu never told you? Shirou was one of the few survivors from the Great Fire..." As Taiga began telling the story, Shirou closed his eyes while still facing the store. He didn't really feel like looking at anyone right now. The cursed flames filled the darkness of his mind and Shirou found he couldn't escape. His eyes weren't listening to him anymore and they refused to open. The ambient noise of a busy morning shopping street was overridden by the screams and wails of the dying. The scent of blood, burning hair and burning flesh clogged his nose and made him want to gag. Shirou tried to force his eyes to open - he didn't want to live through this again. He wanted to scream in frustration but before he could, Illya shook him.

The outside contact seemed to break the trance. "Shirou? Were you even listening?" she asked, giving him a shake.

He couldn't tell Illya that he was having problems. If he did, she would tell Kiritsugu and Shirou didn't really know what he would do. He had to come up with an excuse, and fast. "Sorry, I was looking at the man in the store." It was pitiable, but it was better than nothing. He turned to face his sister, who stepped forwards and leaned close to him. Shirou made a noise as he leaned back but Illya grabbed onto his shirt and held him in place.

Illya squinted, peering into his eyes and examining his very soul. "Don't lie to me Shirou, girls can always tell when you're lying to them you know." There was something smouldering in those eyes that warned him not to test her words. She was way too close to him right now and Shirou rapidly came to realize that crimson eyes could be terrifying if they were angry.

"I was just - uh - thinking about some things?" Even though it wasn't a direct answer it was evidently enough to satisfy the girl. She leaned back and seemed to return to her happy self as if on a switch.

Shirou caught Taiga smiling fiendishly at the display and he silently cursed her for allowing this. "Well I won't punish you since this is your first time, but don't ever lie to me again alright?" Illya didn't even wait for an answer before turning and continuing down the street with Taiga.

"Listen to your sister, Shirou. She's a very smart girl," Taiga added, snickering while she followed the albino.

Shirou gaped in shock before realizing they were walking off without him. Calling out, he jogged a bit to catch up before falling into step with the other two. A few minutes of window shopping later, the conversation changed from comments about what they were seeing and what they wanted to buy to questions.

"Have you kids ever been to _Koshuensaikan Taizan?_ It's the only Chinese restaurant in Fuyuki," Taiga pointed out with pride. "It's got some of the _spiciest_ food in town as well, that chef loads everything with chilli peppers." Taiga fanned her mouth as if it was on fire.

Illya giggled at the display while Shirou only shrugged with a smile. "As far as I know, I've only ever seen the hospital and my house…and I guess everywhere we've been today."

Taiga's face split into a rather angry looking snarl, one fist raised up to rest on her forehead. "That's right, I forgot about that." She chastised herself, suddenly returning to her normal smiling self. "Well then we can go anywhere! I don't know if grandfather would let me use a car today but we can check out all the places around here! I can show you the main bridge between Shinto and Miyama, then maybe Mount Miyama and that restaurant I was talking about." Taiga listed off plans in her head. "Then after that, I can show you where you'll be going to school in a few years, Homurahara Academy! I'd show you Ryuudou Temple, but it's still closed to the public for repairs." Taiga's head lifted and her eyes locked onto something in the distance. Shirou followed where her eyes were looking and spotted someone who stood out from the crowd.

A man with navy-coloured hair cropped in a clean no-nonsense style extended a hand to wave at Taiga. From this distance, Shirou thought his eyes were closed but upon looking closer he realized they were only near-shut. With his wide inviting smile and pleasant face, the visage was actually rather fitting.

"Taiga!" he called out, crossing the street to get closer. He noticed the two children upon nearing and spoke while smiling at Illya. "On babysitter duty? That's good, you can learn some maternal skills early," he teased, laughing at his own joke. The man's voice was deep but in a jovial sort of way. Shirou could only guess how intimidating it would be if he spoke in a serious manner.

"You're lucky I don't have my shinai or you'd be on the end of it, Reikan," Taiga growled, spacing her feet like she was prepared to strike him at any moment.

Reikan only laughed harder. "Yes, you've never been one for… Well, it doesn't matter. Who are you babysitting for?" he asked, turning his gaze to Shirou who suddenly felt as if he was being examined like a lab subject. As if all his flaws and weaknesses were being displayed openly. It made him want to hide behind something or someone. Reikan had looked at Illya first and if she had felt the same way Shirou had it was no surprise she hadn't spoken yet.

"You know that man, Emiya, who moved in down the street a week ago?" Taiga began. As she spoke, Shirou lost interest and tried looking around to find something to eat up his boredom. Illya seemed to be in a similar state and the two siblings looked at each other.

Illya leaned over behind Taiga and whispered to him. "This guy gives me the creeps. We can probably make a break for it before they notice we're gone - I wanna go to the playground and play with Emiri, Taiko and all the others." Shirou glanced back at the two teens lost in conversation with each other. Illya was definitely right about Reikan, he was weird. If they left without telling Taiga they might get in trouble, but how bad could it be? Also, if he declined, Illya would probably leave anyway and Shirou had been told to protect her. In a sense, his decision was already made for him. Carefully, Shirou slid around Taiga and closer to Illya.

"I think I know the way, but we have to stay off the street so Taiga doesn't catch us," Shirou complied, looking around for somewhere they could hide before Illya tugged on his arm.

"Let's just go through these alleys, we can figure out where to go from there."

Shirou verified their guardian was still distracted before silently sneaking off towards the alley with Illya. Looking at Reikan, the man's eyes snapped onto his and they exchanged glances. Strangely, he remained silent and allowed Shirou to follow Illya into the nearby alley.

Illya was so much faster than him and it wasn't fair, she must have been gifted or something because she was almost twice as fast as him even though she was just as small. Shirou bet she was using magic, but Kiritsugu told them not to use magic or reveal their status as magi in public. He had said an organization would blow up the whole city if they did. Shirou didn't want to believe someone _could_ do that, let alone _would_.

His sister turned and waited for him to catch up like he was a lame dog, she wasn't even winded! "Shirou you need to get a lot faster," she complained, placing her hands on her hips as he bent down to catch his breath.

"Did you just run around your whole life? How can you be so fast?" Shirou huffed, sucking in lungfuls to try and level his breathing.

"I ran around the castle lots," she mumbled, twisting the sole of her shoe nervously into the dirt below. "It was a big castle." She spoke sheepishly as if it were embarrassing.

"You lived in a castle?" Shirou asked, stamina returning to him. "Like a princess?"

Illya's face split into surprise and immediately her cheeks grew several shades of red. "Idiot!" she shouted, flicking him on the forehead. She was a lot stronger than she looked because even a simple hit like that hurt a lot. Shirou recoiled and held onto his head in pain. "Don't say stuff like that! I'm not a princess…I don't think." She barely sounded out the last part. She turned away from him and tried to hide her face.

"Alright, alright!" Shirou acquiesced, rubbing the spot on his forehead. "I just thought since you lived in a castle and you're so pretty you were a pr-" He was cut off as another flick hit him on the same spot.

The shade on Illya's cheeks was almost bright enough to illuminate the alley. "You - you idiot!" she nearly screamed. Amidst the pain on his head, Shirou looked back towards the street to make sure nobody had heard that.

"Illya, keep it down or else Fuji-nee will find us!" Shirou whisper-yelled, grabbing onto her hand while running further down the alley. Shirou could see there was a turn to the right up ahead and the light on the far wall revealed it opened up into the street. They could take that and double back around to head towards the park. Shirou might not be very fast or smart like Illya but at least his memory was good!

"Do you even know where we're going?" Illya asked, easily keeping up with him and actually tightening her grip on his hand.

"Of course! Just follow your big brother and we'll get there safe," Shirou toted confidently. The kids rounded the corner and entered a much less traffic-laden street. When they hit the sidewalk, Shirou took a moment to look around and get his bearings. He realized he was still holding Illya's hand and let go only to find she was still squeezing tightly.

If she was scared of going out on her own, why did she suggest running away from Taiga? Oh well, he wouldn't comment on it for now. In the distance, Shirou spotted one of the few three-storey buildings of the area he had seen before while at the playground. It wasn't very much of a landmark, but it was something to go off of at least. Pulling his sister behind him, Shirou crossed the street and began walking to where he believed the playground would be.

"Shirou, is what Taiga said true? Did you really survive a big fire?" Illya asked suddenly, making him twitch instinctively. There was no doubt she had felt that.

"Yeah, but I don't really know how," he replied with a dark tone. "All I know is Kiritsugu rescued me and that I'm here now."

"Well of course, Daddy is the best! At least now you get to have the best family ever right?" Illya tried to look at it optimistically but Shirou couldn't feel the same way. It was hard to think about it, but Shirou really didn't know _what_ he'd lost. He might have had a big happy family but he couldn't remember anything before the Great Fire. An awkward silence descended over them until Shirou tried to wash away the sadness and move the topic away from himself.

"You used to live in a castle right?" An agreeing noise sounded from behind him. "So why do you think Kiritsugu wanted to move to Fuyuki rather than live in a big castle?" he asked, turning back to look at his sister.

She bit the corner of her mouth as if she didn't want to talk about something. "It was too far away and there was nothing to do. When Mommy and Daddy left, all I did was wait for them to come back."

"When did Kiritsugu and your mother leave?" Shirou asked, scrunching his face in confusion. He never knew Illya had been separated from Kiritsugu. Then again, Shirou didn't really know all that much about the old man anyway. Illya took a second to think about the answer.

"Two weeks ago?" she answered. "I think a little bit longer."

"Huh?" Shirou replied intelligently. "If they only left you that long ago, where's your mother?" Shirou raised a good question that had been unaddressed until now.

"She's gone," Illya quietly answered. It was something he hadn't been expecting and it made Shirou want to take his questions back. If she had been lost so soon, all that pain would still be fresh. Shirou couldn't relate to such trauma himself but he at least had the decency to understand it would be damaging. The two were sort of similar then, they had both lost something recently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Shirou replied. What had initially begun as a simple topic change had brought them right back to square one: awkward silence. Shirou decided that it would be better if they just finished travelling to the playground. Illya must have shared that thought because she didn't try to speak again either.

… … …

… … …

When Daddy had told her Mommy had died, Illya had cried for hours. He had told her in the plane and she had cried hard enough to pass out and hadn't woken up until they landed. When she did finally wake up, she had resolved to be strong for her mother, because Mommy had said she would always be there for her. Mommy was always watching her so she couldn't cry her whole life.

Besides, Illya always had Engel Note to remember her mother by. Ever since she was shown it, Illya had been practicing Storch Ritter before going to sleep and sometimes when she woke up in the middle of the night. The bright blue construct was comforting and calmed her down. It also was how she knew Daddy wasn't sleeping properly. He had been staying awake the past few days through the nights. Her mother had never disturbed him when he got like this, so she wouldn't either.

Shirou had managed to get them both to the park without much trouble. For a plain boy, he was surprisingly dependable. Illya liked that about him, he finished everything he said he would and always tried his best even if he knew he couldn't win. When Daddy had told him to play with Sakura, he had put in as much effort as possible to make her have fun. When Illya challenged him to races, he put in all his effort to try winning even though he had no chance.

It was actually sort of scary how determined he could be.

"I wonder if Fuji-nee is looking for us," Shirou commented to himself absently. The two were walking back home. After playing some games with the other children they had met yesterday, both siblings unanimously decided they were hungry and elected to see if Kiritsugu had come back with groceries yet.

Taiga might be mad at them for leaving for a few hours - but they could take care of themselves! They were powerful magus children that could cast spells to protect each other. Well she could at least, Shirou couldn't. He seemed to be much more nervous than she was at the moment. Maybe it was because he thought they were going to get in big trouble for leaving Taiga. Daddy wouldn't punish them for this, no way, he was too nice!

"I think so, but I don't think she'll be too upset." Ilya tried to calm her brother down. He always worried and seemed to think too much about things. "Why do you think all the other old people were looking at us so weird?" While they had been playing games, the other parents were whispering to one another and pointing at them both from the sidelines. Illya thought it was because Shirou looked so weird, but if that was the case why hadn't everyone been doing that yesterday?

"Because we were there alone. Usually, kids don't go off to their playground on their own without someone watching them," Shirou pointed out, keeping his eyes forward as they walked the path home.

Illya realized he was right, people didn't leave their kids alone because strangers might try to take them away. But they were magi, nobody could kidnap them, right?

Almost on cue, a flash of sunlight off a piece of metal hit Illya in the eye. She stopped and turned to see who it might be but as she did they vanished out of sight. Illya briefly thought she saw something purple, but who would wear something that oddly coloured? It had been dark purple, even darker than Sakura's hair in fact.

"What's wrong?" Shirou asked, stopping himself and turning to look at her. He followed her eyes to look in the alley she was still peering in. "Did you see something?"

"N-nothing, let's just get home quick ok?" Illya rushed past her brother at a jog. Someone had been watching them. Since Illya left the playground she had sensed eyes on the back of her neck. She had brushed it off after she couldn't find anyone around them but when that person in the alley had left, the feeling had gone with them. She didn't like it one bit. She didn't want to make Shirou go into a panic and berate her idea of going alone so she didn't bother to tell him. "Last one there gets to take the blame for leaving Taiga!" she shouted back at him.

"Wait a second, you got a head-start!" he called back, sprinting and blowing past her to try and gain some ground. Poor Shirou, he had no idea just how fast she could be. It was funny to make him think he could win only to crush his spirits near the end when she decided to run for real.

… … …

Shirou was bent over trying to catch his breath. His legs were actually wobbling from how much strain he had put them through. The two had raced a little less than a kilometre back home and Shirou had put all his effort into trying to beat her. It was all in vain of course since Illya could run both faster and longer than he could. She had let him lead most of the way but in the last couple blocks, she sprinted past him as if he were standing still.

"Almost - got you - that time," he wheezed, getting her to giggle.

"If you put in a little more effort next time you just might big brother," she teased, giving the back of his head comforting pats. Having had enough fun with him for now, she slid open the door to their home and stumbled backwards.

Kiritsugu was standing there with arms crossed over his chest. Taiga was behind him with anger written on her face, but that wasn't what scared her.

It was the face of her own father. His eyes were colder than the coldest night in Germany and they seemed to bore holes right through her soul. There was no compassion, happiness or _anything_ in them and the pure emptiness shocked her more than anything. He was usually smiling when he saw her, eyes bright and happy. _Who was this?_

"Illya, Shirou." He greeted them, voice as cold and heartless as his eyes. "It's nice to see you."

Illya gulped audibly, this wasn't going to be good, was it? "Daddy?" she croaked out in the cutest voice she could muster at that moment. It sounded more like an animal looking for mercy.

He nodded as if recognizing that was his name and nothing else. "I believe you both have some explaining to do. Come inside and you can start from the beginning." He stepped to one side, motioning with one hand for the two to enter.

Shirou looked like he had just swallowed a live toad and it was caught in his throat. Reluctantly, he stepped in first and took off his shoes. Illya followed behind him and the two shambled down the hall as if they were sentenced to an execution block.

Even Taiga was afraid of Kiritsugu. She normally sidled up right beside him but now she trailed a few steps back as he ominously walked behind the two children. They were really in deep trouble. Abruptly, he stopped and turned to Taiga.

"I appreciate what you've done Taiga, but could you please wait outside while I speak with my children? It should only take a moment." His words asked a question but the tone demanded obedience. The Emiya family stepped into the dining room and Illya turned to look at her father. He closed the door as he entered and looked between them with those dagger-like eyes.

He crouched to get on their level then suddenly lowered his head and sighed. "I was so worried about you two when Taiga told me you were gone. I'm just happy you're both safe and weren't kidnapped." He extended both arms and grabbed his children by the shoulders, pulling them close into a hug.

Illya had expected yelling and shouting, maybe even a beating. For Kiritsugu to wrap them both up like they were dying stunned her into silence. He had only hugged her a couple times in her life but each time had been special - this one included. He seemed depressed when he embraced her and held her tight. This hug was almost identical to the one she had received back in Germany before he left with mommy. Illya realized it was because he thought he would lose her.

Was she that important to him? Would losing her actually be enough to destroy him? He had always seemed to strong and stable but at this moment he seemed frail. A sudden well of sadness rushed up from within her and brought tears to the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry Daddy, I won't ever do something like that again." Illya broke down, hugging onto her father tightly. She didn't catch what Shirou was doing but she heard him apologize at least.

She wouldn't do something mischievous like that ever again if it meant she would hurt her father like this. She would do her best in preventing him from ever getting like this again. She squeezed her father as tight as she could, sniffling against his shoulder.

… … …

… … …

The Magus Killer was at it again. Brooding over ideas in his head during the late evening hours. Ten years, he had ten years to put Illya and Shirou into a position where they would unquestionably come out victorious. Illya was doomed but he could at least give her a good life. She would become the Grail unless he could stop it from ever forming in the first place. One hand toyed with a pen, spinning it around his fingers while the other sat over his lips in deep thought.

He had options, he had time. If he was going to make the most of it, he had better get on something now. News had spread through the Mage's Association quickly. Kayneth El-Melloi had died and the Archibald family needed a new head of house. Rumours of the young upcoming Waver Velvet claiming such a role were swirling around. Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri had apparently committed suicide following the slow death of Lancer. Kiritsugu hadn't even been aware and he hadn't cared about her existence. Apparently, the Cursed Love Spot struck rather deep.

The Archibald debacle was important for a very specific reason: Kiritsugu needed someone to teach his children magecraft. While he might be able to teach them runecraft to a decent level, he was inept in fundamental spellcraft. Kiritsugu doubted Shirou would survive a crest transplant until he was older which eliminated the possibility to learn Time Alter. Kiritsugu only knew a handful of magi willing to help. His first idea had been to ask Waver to teach them. Waver was a skilled magus and Kiritsugu knew him personally. Unfortunately, asking him to renounce his upcoming responsibilities to help teach the children of a freelance assassin was preposterous.

On the other hand, Kiritsugu could ask for a few favours and get the children placed into the Mage's Association. But if he did that, Illya would have a target painted on her back. The Einzberns would know where she was and wouldn't stop until she was dead.

So then only Shirou could go, but his identity would need to be hidden. Unlike Illya, a new alias would be the only requirement. But that was just a hypothetical. Shirou would need to prove his ability with magecraft before the Association would even consider taking him on.

So who did he know that was skilled with magecraft and could be persuaded to help? It took a moment, but Kiritsugu suddenly determined the perfect person for the job. He would see them tonight and see if an agreement could be made. The Magus Killer threw on his coat and prepared to leave. He gave one last glance at his desk, namely the Contender which sat illuminated by a lamp. Taking a second to decide, he figured it would be better to have but never use. Picking it up, he placed the weapon snugly in his coat and put on his boots.

… … …

… … …

It was a few hours after sundown when the doorbell to the house chimed. A visitor at this time of night? They must have very good reason. Nobody was supposed to be living in this house so who in their right mind would ring the doorbell of a supposedly abandoned home?

Rin set the dustpan she had been using down. Since she had arrived back home with her mother, they had been doing nothing but cleaning. Dusting and mopping the floors. Someone had broken in during their time away. After breaking the glass to the back door, they managed to track mud through the entire house. It was rather aggravating and as a consequence, Rin had been steaming mad since she first arrived. Sighing to herself before putting on a brighter disposition, the girl walked towards the front door. "I've got it!" she called out, hoping her mother on the second floor was listening.

She was a big enough girl now, she was _eight_ and could answer the door on her own! Confident, the little magus walked toward the main entrance. Peering up at the small window set into the door, a black silhouette stood in the evening gloom. Why hadn't she reactivated her father's bounded field? It could at least tell her if this stranger was a magus or intended to cause harm.

Since Rin's father had first left for the Grail War, Rin had been acclimating herself to the idea that he would never return. She had cried the first two nights even though she would never admit it aloud. Now, the thought of his absence hardly affected her. Returning to the matter at hand: whoever was on the other side of the door was wearing black clothes in the middle of the night. Were they some sort of burglar or murderer?

Wait, criminals don't ring doorbells. Rin forced the paranoid thoughts from her mind and reached up to pull the door open wide. "Good evening, I hope I'm not imposing myself at an inconvenient time," the man greeted, bowing formally. He wasn't very tall but he held himself confidently. His stance seemed primed to move in a moment's notice and his face seemed locked into a blank slate. This style seemed to extend beyond just his body language. His eyes seemed to be empty, analyzing emotionless streams of data rather than taking in colours, faces or emotions. It was rather intimidating in a strange, professional way.

Rin felt as if she was just another face to be catalogued or someone who was just standing in his way. "Good evening to you as well, sir." Rin returned the bow before glaring up towards the stranger with a convincing smile. This man was an absolute stranger and the vibe he was giving set off all sorts of alarms in her head.

"My name is Kiritsugu Emiya and I understand how peculiar this may sound from a stranger, but is your name Rin Tohsaka?" he asked, stunning her entirely. Lights were flashing behind her eyes. This man, someone she had never seen before, knew her name and where she lived. What would he want with her? He wasn't pulling or holding a weapon, and he wasn't channelling mana, he had just walked right up to the front door and rung the doorbell. He had even introduced himself! There was such a conflicting array of signals, Rin's head started aching from the sheer stupidity of it all. Was he here to kill her or here to offer a basket of complimentary muffins?

"Unfortunately no, I'm the daughter of the maid hired by the Tohsaka to clean up their house for their arrival." She thought on her toes. Rin had been expecting a lot of things. Anger, attempts at her life or doubt in her words. Surely if he knew her name, he would know what she looked like. She definitely had not expected the man to slouch onto himself and take on a depressed look.

"I see," he dejectedly spoke while letting out a sigh. "Do you know when the Tohsaka will return? I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with them, specifically with Rin."

His reaction offered new light into Rin's evaluation. It was strange how many details could be derived from a person just through simple conversation. He knew her name and where she lived but not what she looked like. That meant he wasn't stalking or trying to kidnap her. He was more disappointed than upset at her supposed lack of being present so he might have been telling the truth about wanting to talk. A subtle motion to her coat pocket allowed Rin to grasp her magical compass. It was motionless, which meant this man was likely _not_ a magus. So what reason did he have to be here looking for her? "Actually…" Rin began, tilting her head to one side. "I thought you were going to try and hurt me, so I lied."

As if on a switch, his face brightened and returned to its bland state. He actually seemed a little happier than he had been with a little smirk coming to the corners of his mouth. "I see, that's very wise of you. So I suppose you _are_ Rin Tohsaka?" he asked for verification, getting a short nod from Rin. "So you're alright, wonderful." He breathed a sigh of relief.

What did that mean? She was alright? Of course she was, what else could she be? "You're scaring me, mister," she responded, getting an awkward chuckle from him.

"I'm sorry, I guess I spoke out of turn." He cleared his throat. "If it's more comfortable I can come inside and speak with you and your mother. This will take some time, so it may be best if we all sit down and have some tea." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "Your mother is familiar with magecraft, correct?"

Rin was stunned again. Once more he had blown her expectations out of the water. So he _was_ a magus but he was being sly about it. Whatever he had to say was of incredible importance. Not just anybody would wander up to the front door of a known magus family. "She does, but not like I do," Rin admitted.

"I see. Well, then what would you prefer we do, Miss Tohsaka?" So he was letting her decide? Rin's mother never seemed too interested in magecraft. Whenever it was brought up or used near her mother she seemed to go quiet and become distant. It was probably because of what happened to Sak-

"You haven't gone into your father's study have you?" The man asked an odd question as Rin was thinking about her answer to his first question. He knew about her father's study? This was getting more confusing and sketchy with each word he spoke.

Rin decided to be honest. "I haven't yet. Why is it that you're asking?" Rin narrowed her eyes, continuing her attempt at playing this cool and confidently. Inside, her brain was trying to figure out escape routes and possible ways to kill this _Kiritsugu_ should he turn aggressive. So far she had nothing in either department.

"It would be better if I could come inside and speak to you privately." He paused to look behind himself. "I can answer your questions and I will be as honest as possible," the man admitted, nodding to himself.

Rin hummed, looking him over once more. She was hoping it came across as if she were sizing him up as an opponent she could handle but the dead glare in his eyes revealed she wasn't fooling anyone. Defeated, she sighed and stepped aside. "We can talk in one of the rooms on the lower floors. My mother is upstairs cleaning out her own room."

The man entered and took the time to remove his heavy-looking boots. Rin closed the door and shouted up the stairs to her mother. She fabricated a story explaining that one of the neighbours had come by upon seeing the lights to the house on again. Aoi thankfully seemed to believe the story.

Holding one finger over her lips as a signal to be quiet, Rin motioned for the older man to follow her. She led him down the hall into one of seven identical doors. If Rin had anything to comment on about this house it was that it was too darn big.

The room was just a simple reading space with bookshelves lining the walls and two luxurious armchairs facing a well-used wooden fireplace. Rin had seen her father in here multiple times, glasses perched on his face and nose stuck into a book. Casually, she ignited the fireplace with a simple " _von asch_ ". With the room lit up, Rin hopped up to settle into one of the chairs while the man sat on the edge of the other.

The two looked into each other's eyes while they both thought of what to say. Blue-green battled with inky black to see which one could come across as the most stoic.

"I've committed myself to being honest with you, any questions you ask will receive truthful answers," Kiritsugu began, clasping his hands on his legs. "If you doubt my authenticity, I am willing to sign a Self Geass."

Rin furrowed her brow. He was really determined to reveal the truth to her, wasn't he? A magus willingly signing himself to a Self Geass was no joke. Or was this some ploy to gain her trust? "No…if you're so willing to sign a Geass then I believe you," she denied, finding herself rapidly becoming interested in this man. Who was he exactly? "But as a test, I'd like for you to explain to me who you are."

He nodded. "My name is Kiritsugu Emiya, son of the sealing designate Norikata Emiya. I am better known by my nickname as the Magus Killer." Rin gulped. Would now be the time he pulled a sword out of his ear and cut her head off? "It's a name I've grown to hate the more I hear it." Rin relaxed. So he was one of those mushy _I never asked for this_ types. "I am also the sole victor of the Fourth Holy Grail War."

If Rin had been drinking something it would have been spat all over his face. This man won the War? Then why was he here in her home? What reason would he have to…had he killed her father? Anger began to spark within the girl. Her sensibility flew out the window and there was only one question in Her mind. Both hands clenched atop her lap and she lowered her head so she wouldn't have to look at his face. "If you fought and won the War, did you kill my father?"

There was silence for a few seconds, then a shuffle of clothing. "Yesterday I broke into this house through the backdoor. I believe I saw you cleaning up the broken glass. After searching the house I discovered your father's study and found him strung up as a torture subject. I will spare you the details, but I will let you know your father was in incredible pain." His voice held sorrow and honesty in it. He didn't express anything consoling but his tone let her know he at least meant it. "After witnessing your father's servant, I have little doubt that they were the torturer. Archer, the epic hero Gilgamesh, was still a servant and could be shackled by Tokiomi's Command Seals. To prevent this, he destroyed your father's mind with pain so he could have free reign." Rin shut her eyes tight and did her best to control herself. She wasn't going to cry in front of a stranger, she was stronger than that - she had to be. Kiritsugu paused for a moment as Rin sniffled. It was the only display of emotion she'd shown since asking if he had killed her father. Lightly coughing to clear his throat, the man resumed. "There was no way to save his life and at that point, he was no longer able to be considered human. Extensive healing over decades may have restored him to a non-vegetative state but his mind would have still been demolished from the event. I killed your father as quickly and painlessly as I could." He reached up to scratch the back of his neck to break the awkward silence. "I'm sorry. While we were competitors in the war, even I would never wish such a fate upon him."

The anger was still growing within her, but it was no longer directed at Kiritsugu. If he was telling the truth then ultimately Archer was to blame for her father's murder. "Is this why you asked if I had been to the study?"

"Yes. I was unable to fully cleanse the area of traces regarding the event. I have removed the body and did my best to preserve your father's family crest - what was left of it," he explained.

"Are you going to return the crest?" Rin asked, finally looking up into the man's eyes. Those cold black pools were the last sight her father would have seen, it couldn't have been much of a send-off.

Kiritsugu nodded slowly. "I haven't brought it with me but you are free to collect it whenever you desire in exchange for certain privileges." The man bargained. This was where his wisdom shined through. A magus family crest held a lot of weight as a trading token. Did he come to extort money from her family?

"And what might these privileges be?" she asked coldly, scowling with accusatory eyes.

"You are to become the Second Owner of Fuyuki," he stated more than asked. So he _did_ know of her family. "I wish for effective immunity and for my presence here to be undocumented."

There was only one reason someone would want to stay out of the eyes of the Mage's Association and Rin hoped it wasn't the case. "Why? Are you a sealing designate?"

The man shook his head, much to her relief. "My reputation has granted me an unhealthy number of enemies. I have a family to protect now and I would rather they not become a target in someone's attempt at getting to me. I will not be conducting any sealing-worthy experiments or developing magecraft at all in fact. I've never been interested in the Root or magic in general so your risk in this is minimal. Beyond that, I have ways of making my signature invisible to even first-rate magi like yourself."

Rin hummed, clasping her hands on her lap. "I suppose if you are discovered I could feign ignorance of it all. You're correct in saying this is rather low risk," she agreed. Few magus families ever visited Fuyuki which meant the overall level of exposure was negligible. Risk of this man entering the next Grail War was also low. Rin would be sixty-eight when that time came, Kiritsugu would be in his nineties if her guess about his age was close. If he was still alive by then, he probably wouldn't even be able to eat his own food let alone fight in another Grail War.

Rin closed her eyes, taking a moment to breathe and collect herself. It wouldn't be right to get heated over this conversation. If she grew too angry, she might miss crucial details due to clouded judgement, just like she had earlier when he brought up her father. "So why have you come to me then? If you have ways of masking your presence then you didn't need my permission in the first place," she decided on asking next. It would be good to get the basics out of the way before continuing to anything more advanced.

He looked her straight in the eyes with an expressionless face. "I need your help."

This man was the literal embodiment of unexpected surprises. When would this train of shock end? "What could I possibly help you with?" she asked, face full of genuine confusion.

"Magecraft training," he replied simply, getting a blank stare from the girl. Rin blinked twice, then moved a hand to rub her ear. Had she heard that right? She definitely hadn't heard that right.

"I'm sorry but could you say that again? I thought you had said _magecraft training_." She laughed awkwardly.

"I did, although it wouldn't be training for myself," he clarified, his gaze the epitome of absolute seriousness.

Rin tilted her head to one side, trying to comprehend what he was requesting. "Just to get this absolutely clear, I'll say it how I understand it." She paused briefly to try and put the current situation into words. "You want an eight-year-old girl to teach someone you know magecraft rather than just teach them yourself?"

The grave glare remained as he nodded. "I was never taught as a proper magus which means I cannot teach my children anything beyond the most basic of magecraft," he admitted, laying his cards on the table as it were. From a magus' perspective, it was an incredibly stupid move. The only purpose she could see in doing such a thing would be to further authenticate his statement of honesty.

"How basic?" Rin asked, trying to get a grasp on how difficult this would be. Surely a magus who came out of the Holy Grail War victoriously could cast some decent spells, enough to start his own children on the path of magecraft.

"I can create Cleansing Flame and I am decently skilled in reinforcement magic. Beyond that I was briefly trained in runecraft just before the War." He paused to scratch his head. Rin wondered if this was as awkward for him as it was for her. "Without my crest, neither of my children will be able to utilize the Emiya magic."

He was absolutely useless. How could a magus with such little in the way of skills actually win a war designed specifically for first-rate magi? "You didn't secure your crest in one of your children before leaving for the War?" Her father had done just that. Before he left, he had given her a large portion of his crest for her to carry on. "Are you an idiot?" she blurted out, hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened in surprise.

He laughed at her words. "Some might call me that, yes. I'm unable to properly transfer my crest unto my children for a handful of reasons. My son cannot accept the crest as he was recently adopted into my family, and my daughter is unable to utilize it as she has developed a crest of her own. It's far from fully-fledged but I wouldn't want to try introducing another crest in case there are compatibility issues," the man explained, introducing logic to his decisions.

"I see, so you're rather stuck aren't you?" Rin asked, getting a neutral agreement. There was a long pause as she thought over his request and all the details she had learned. She didn't really have an incredible grasp on magecraft herself, so learning it and teaching others simultaneously would detract from her own ability. On the other hand, if she helped Kiritsugu she could gain an incredible ally with a wealth of information. She would also have two willing participants for any experiment she wanted to conduct. Rin shrugged impassively. "Then I suppose I'll have to help you." The smile that suddenly spread across his face warmed her heart. "But I'm not committing fully to anything yet, I'll give training them a try and see how it goes alright?" she stipulated, trying to leave her end of this contract as open as possible.

"That's perfectly understandable. If you require funding or items for training I will be able to provide those as well. The man reached into an inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. "I don't know your schedule but you are welcome to come by when you please." He handed her the piece of paper and she took a moment to open it. There was nothing more than a simple address, most likely the man's home. It was near the very northern edge of Miyama, in essence, as far away from her own home as possible. The Tohsaka manor was on the southern edge of Miyama. Rin supposed she could visit after school seeing as how her school was just north of her house, so the trip wouldn't be as bad.

"I'll see what I can do, you might understand if I say I'm a little busy with recent events," she commented. "While you're here and under an oath of honesty, I'd like to ask a few more questions."

Kiritsugu shrugged. "Shoot."

"What were the identities of the servants involved?" she began.

"King Arthur as Saber, Gilgamesh as Archer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne as Lancer, Alexander the Great as Rider and the others I was unable to identify. Berserker was some sort of mad knight, Assassin was a skinny man with blackened skin who supposedly died within hours of the official start and Caster wore a red cloak and utilized a reality marble." He explained it all from the top. "I won't explain every detail of the War to you. It's both unnecessary and personal." He squinted his eyes, challenging her to provoke him on the matter.

She wasn't biting. "Then tell me about your adopted son, why would you choose to strike up a family in the middle of a War?"

"I adopted Shirou following the _end_ of the War. One action after another near the end lead to the Great Fire. I found and rescued him and he was the only living survivor I came across." He paused to swallow. "He lost his memories and I decided it was best to offer him a home rather than to leave him for an orphanage."

Rin's eyes softened. "That's very noble of you as well as quite unfortunate for Shirou. I hope he's not too disturbed by the event."

Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes suddenly. "You're very mature for your age, I hadn't expected such a conversation from a little girl."

It was Rin's time to smile now. "Sometimes people aren't what they seem. Besides, you can't always be the unexpected one," she shot back, getting a soft chuckle.

"You might just be right." His eyes flickered to a window outside before his body moved to stand. "It's getting late. You have cleaning to get back to and I really should return home." Rin nodded in silence before following him out to the front door. Respectfully bowing, he left and rapidly blended in with the night.

Rin closed the door and pressed her back against it. She let out a great sigh and closed her eyes. Why did she feel as if teaching magecraft was going to be incredibly frustrating?

… … …

… … …

… … …

"You idiot!" came a shout from the left. Shirou's head whipped around to focus on who had spoken, but the only thing he met was a fist inches from his face.

A loud crack sounded as he was entirely laid out on his back. Reeling, Shirou groaned and lifted a hand to his face. Dabbing his fingers around his nose revealed fresh blood. Feeling around further let him know the punch had broken his nose. Through the dark haze and the whirling stars, shimmering turquoise eyes and raven black hair suddenly draped over his face. Was this an angel come to take him to heaven? Was he dying? At least his escort to the afterlife was a pretty girl. Shirou blinked heavily to try clearing the distortion. No, this wasn't an angel, more like Satan incarnate. A few seconds passed before crimson eyes and white hair also made their appearance.

"Do you always have to hit him so hard?" Illya asked, looking between Rin and her semi-conscious brother. She held a face of sadness, probably because she never liked seeing her brother get hurt. Shirou remembered how mad she was the time he came back home bloody and bruised after protecting Sakura. The purple-haired girl had been getting bullied by some of the bigger kids when Shirou went to play with her. He had taken their attention off her but received a pretty nasty beating because of it. Coincidentally enough that was also the day Illya decided to learn healing magecraft.

"An enemy wouldn't hesitate in striking without mercy," Rin pointed out like a wise old man while she wiped blood from his face with her finger. It had been flowing from his nose and threatened to drip into his eyes. From experience, both of them knew how painful and irritating that was. "I'm actually surprised that punch didn't kill him," she mumbled.

Illya frowned and looked like she was about to give Rin a dose of her own medicine before another voice joined the conversation. "You're absolutely right, Rin," Kiritsugu spoke up from the sidelines. Casually, he threw an already bloodied towel towards the group. "If you don't experience what real blows feel like, you'll grow to be overconfident that attacks won't hurt. Repeated exposure to vicious attacks will also increase your resistance. If you become familiar with pain you can overcome it."

Rin reached for the towel, picking it up and pressing it under Shirou's bleeding nose. "Are you with us in there?" she asked, snapping the fingers on her other hand in front of his eyes a few times.

Weakly, Shirou lifted a hand to the towel to maintain pressure. Slowly he tried to sit up but his muscles weren't fully cooperating. "Mh-hm," he hummed from behind the towel.

"You can't focus on a single target like that. You have to keep your senses open so you can be aware of the entire area." Illya cooed, placing her hands across various parts of his body. Every time she did, a pale green glow washed over his skin. The glow removed bruises and stitched cuts back together. Each spot she touched was as good as new in a few seconds.

"Mh-hm," Shirou replied absently, finally succeeding in sitting up. They had been training since four this afternoon after they had all gotten off school. Kiritsugu had spoken with Aoi to let Rin sleepover. It was more effective to stay the night after having to travel so far. Since they had started training, Shirou had been the main person receiving injuries.

Supposedly these fights were a free-for-all and the main goal was to put the others out of the fight however they could. Illya was using Engel Note and normal magic bullets to defend herself. She wasn't nearly as physically strong as Shirou but her magical power was almost greater than Rin's. Rin was perfectly balanced in terms of physical and magical ability. She had trained in some of the same martial arts Shirou had but her focus was primarily in spellcraft. She was skilled in reinforcement, jewelcraft and a very specific runic curse called Gandr. From what Shirou understood, it was essentially magecraft's own version of a pistol. Rin hardly used it in their training for two simple reasons: it was dangerous, and it had side effects following the end of fights. Those struck got incredibly sick for the next few days. When Rin decided to use the spell in training, its power was decreased significantly to the point where it was almost worthless.

Shirou, on the other hand, was entirely focused on the physical. It wasn't as if this specialization was intentional. He had done his best to get into everything he possibly could. At school, he was in junior kendo and archery. The Homurahara Academy clubs had already expressed their interest in his joining when he was old enough. Outside of school and official clubs, Shirou had learned martial arts with several trainers. Kiritsugu had taught him what he knew, including basic combat with knives. Reikan, Fuji-nee's friend, had taken over after. The very first day Shirou had come to the crashing realization that Kiritsugu's style of fighting was vastly different to a professional's. Kiritsugu reacted to each movement and simply moved naturally to counter the attacks. Reikan took advantage of a single misstep and piled on follow-up strikes. It was as Reikan was planning six moves ahead in chess while Kiritsugu still thought they were playing checkers. Once Shirou learned all he could from Reikan, he would have to move on to other mentors to continue advancing his ability. It would be preferable if the teacher was also a magus. That way Shirou could use reinforcement like he would in a real fight.

The old man had also taught Shirou how to fire guns and had even given him two pistols. They had custom grips with designs of black roses and pearls. A simple tracing revealed the grips were recent additions compared to the rest of the gun. Engraved on the grips was a name Shirou had never seen before, " _Maiya_ ", in beautiful golden cursive. When Kiritsugu had been asked who Maiya was, he had simply responded that she was someone important and that they had helped him understand things better. Unfortunately, Shirou couldn't keep the guns. He had just been shown them, but he would get them back to keep when he was older.

As for Shirou's ability in magecraft, it was almost nonexistent. Rin had done her best teaching him but he never seemed to understand or get everything right. The best he had done was in reinforcement, which he oddly excelled in. Rin had called reinforcement a useless branch of magecraft but Shirou could see potential in it. Reinforcement didn't just mean making something harder or sharper, it could mean making something more potent or effective. Water would provide a greater level of hydration, food would be more nutritious or tasty and plants could be reinforced to grow faster. Since Shirou was good at it, he decided to work on it in his spare time outside of Rin's training. He had tried to keep to a schedule of practicing every night since Kiritsugu had stuck it in his head that discipline in a craft was of absolute importance.

Illya was a self-proclaimed prodigy. Whenever Rin taught them something new or discovered a new spell, Illya mastered it after watching Rin cast it a single time. If Rin didn't show her, however, she couldn't seem to understand how the spell worked. Shirou just thought Illya was a visual learner, but when Rin tested her knowledge of magecraft fundamentals she hadn't known a single thing. Shirou had been able to answer Rin's questions but Illya just guessed.

Rin was always so mad after seeing Illya master spells that had taken weeks just to understand the fundamentals for when the albino didn't know a single thing about magecraft processes. A few days ago Rin had boasted about how she had extensive reservoirs of mana and explained how she could easily defeat Illya in a battle of endurance. Shirou thought she did it just to feel better about herself. Illya had argued that Rin was wrong and a full-scale battle had almost ensued. To settle things before the two destroyed the backyard, Kiritsugu pointed out that he could run a simple test on the two to determine their magical potential.

Rin had forty natural circuits and with her father's completed crest she had a total of one hundred and thirty. Each circuit was capable of outputting fifteen units of magical energy which meant she could output nearly two thousand units in a single burst. Kiritsugu had said it was a mind-boggling number for someone her age and that it would continue to grow as she got older. Her circuits would develop further and their capacity would increase. Shirou was almost nothing compared to Rin. He only had twenty-seven circuits and they were very low quality. Each one could barely handle ten units of energy which capped his output at around three hundred. Rin had been confident and full of herself until the old man looked at Illya's circuits. Doing his best not to laugh, he revealed his daughter had over three hundred natural circuits and her crest wasn't even fully developed yet. They weren't quite as high in quality as Rin's, but the sheer number alone had her beat.

Illya then sent power through every circuit she had to reveal bright red lines that ran across her entire body. Kiritsugu commented that Illya was rather balanced on account of having poor regeneration. This meant she acted more like a high capacity battery than an efficient factory like Rin. With this new information, the two decided that they were about equal and left the argument there. Illya had reserves while Rin had constant replenishment. They had both left out the fact that Shirou was an absolute lost cause who wasn't even comparable to either of them. Not only were his reserves _and_ generation poor, he couldn't cast spells if his life depended on it. Unfortunately with Rin Tohsaka as a teacher, sometimes it did. At least he could reinforce better than his mentor, he had that saving grace.

Shirou pulled the towel from his face and touched under his nose. His bleeding had stopped and the swirling in his head had subsided. "Nice reinforcement, Tohsaka. I hope my face didn't hurt your hand too much," he said with a weak smile.

Rin's eyes widened before blinking several times. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she turned away. "Of course not. Next time I'll make sure my punch knocks you out." She huffed, standing and walking some distance away.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Illya asked, pressing her hand to his face awkwardly to set his nose through magecraft. "This will make the fourth time you've lost, aren't you tired?" There was a disgusting crack as the cartilage and bone settled into its rightful place.

Shirou stood up after Illya was done. He wobbled on his feet and gave his head a shake. Blinking a few times to clear his eyes, Shirou smirked. "I'm fine. The old man, Reikan and Fuji-nee have put me through a lot worse," he assured her. Testing his muscles, he flexed his arms and legs before rotating both shoulders. Everything seemed to work properly, at least for now.

This fight he would win for sure. He didn't want to hurt the girls, but he could make them surrender if he put some effort into this next bout. Or he could knock them out with single strikes. While Illya walked to her own starting position, he began taking deep breaths.

The boy closed his eyes and looked inside himself. Not so deep as to see the golden light shining in his core but enough to see his body and its inner workings. He focused on his muscles and began channelling Od. He clenched his eyes tighter as searing pain stabbed through his body like a hot blade.

He didn't know why magecraft always hurt to cast, but he was too afraid to ask Rin since he didn't want to be yelled at…any more than he already was. With mana flowing through him, Shirou directed its flow to fill up the empty space between his flesh. This was simple self-reinforcement, filling the empty pore space with mana to make a harder structure and increasing its efficiency. In this way, one might think objects with greater porosity would make better materials for reinforcement. However, that wasn't the case. Objects with extreme porosity become dangerously unstable upon being reinforced to capacity. Sponges and bones were good examples of porous objects. Mana becomes unstable when compacted upon itself and as a consequence, it tends to explode violently without warning. Skin and muscle were great materials to reinforce because one often had an incredibly detailed view of their own body and the pore space was perfect for filling. Shirou wasn't going to reinforce his bones for a simple spar and besides that, he didn't feel like exploding from the inside out.

Shirou opened his eyes upon finishing his reinforcement. Clenching both hands into fists, he moved into a familiar combat stance with his eyes darting between the two girls.

It had been around four years since Rin started training them both. In that time, Rin and Shirou had grown much taller and matured greatly over the years. Illya had stayed identical. She might have grown an inch and her face might have become a tad more angular but she was still just Illya. When he told people Illya was, in fact, two years _older_ than Shirou and Rin, they were shocked and refused to believe it.

Rin cast a glance between the two of them and nodded as a signal to begin. Shirou took a brief second to look towards Kiritsugu sitting on the edge of the engawa. He was sipping tea as he watched his children train. The first year he had effectively given them a break. Illya and Shirou had trained in magecraft with Rin, sure, but there had been no physical element to their training. Once Shirou turned nine, Kiritsugu had practically forced him to join everything he deemed "advantageous to combat ability".

"Shirou!" Illya's voice came to his ears. Turning back he was met with a familiar sight - Rin's incoming fist.

If he hadn't reinforced his muscles he would have found himself in an identical position to last time. Since he _had_ reinforced his body this time, he was able to duck beneath her fist towards her outside shoulder. Moving around the smaller girl as she tried to re-adjust, both his arms snaked around her waist.

Blowing out a breath as he squeezed her abdomen, Rin suddenly found herself airborne as Shirou suplexed her onto the hard - albeit grass covered - ground below. With a whump, Rin made a noise of pain then fell silent.

She had actually struck her head and been knocked out entirely from the unexpected move. Shirou frowned and cursed himself for hurting her, but at least he had taken one of his enemies out of the fight. Now it was just Illya - but could he really hurt his little sister?

Standing up, he took a second to brush the dust off his back. That was when a magic bullet decided to singe some of the hairs on his head. Looking up at her sister, he found her to be smiling devilishly. "Angry about losing so many times, big brother?" she asked casually. Three small versions of Storch Ritter fluttered in front of her ominously, making strange crystalline tweets. "You wouldn't hurt your poor little sister, would you? Just give up so I don't have to heal you anymore."

Shirou wished he had weapons as easy to create as Illya's. Being able to create whatever weapon he wanted on command would be amazing. All she needed were hairs and she definitely had plenty of those. Shirou just had his fists and he couldn't use a bow in spars. His kendo stick might work, but he wasn't allowed to bring it home from school yet. Taiga had just let him borrow her old one whenever they fought at home and he didn't want to break one of her weapons. If Shirou had to choose between an angry Rin and an angry Taiga, he would choose Rin every time.

In the midst of lamenting, a blade landed on the ground beside him. Shirou realized it was the old man's blade. Kiritsugu had one on him at all times for reasons Shirou felt were better left unexplained. Rin had told him about his father's other name a couple years ago. It never changed Shirou's opinion on his father, but it certainly made him curious about the _Magus Killer's_ bloody past.

Reaching down and rolling forward in the same motion, Shirou simultaneously recovered the blade and avoided three incoming magic bullets. With the blade in his hand, Shirou mumbled his practiced aria under his breath. " _Trace on._ " It began, activating his circuits and causing searing pain to shoot through his body. He continued, already having a specific purpose for this blade. " _Examining basic structure._ " He sidestepped to avoid another magic bullet. One avian construct dove too low and a quick thrust upward put the knife into its trajectory. A grinding noise sounded as the blade sliced off one wing of the bird. With a shattering noise like breaking glass, the construct fell apart. In Shirou's mind, a wireframe of Kiritsugu's blade appeared, gently rotating as if it were some special artifact.

"Brother?" Illya asked nervously, taking a step back as she looked into his cool eyes.

" _Examining and minimizing flaws_ ," came the third line and with it, material to fill in the wireframe. If this plan were to work, he needed to perform an alteration to the knife as well. He would need to manipulate its entire design to pull off the right effect. " _Supplementing ideal design_." The design pictured in his mind merged with the original design of the weapon. The two schematics melded together to match the traced materials to the proposed design. Shirou got careless in his movements and a magic bullet struck him in the hip. It disrupted his movements forward and left a burning, aching pain but it was nothing he couldn't fight through.

"Aim for the limbs, disabling motion is better than wounding center-mass!" Kiritsugu called out the suggestion to his daughter. Let it be known that the old man definitely did _not_ pick favourites.

" _Executing alterations._ " With the fifth line completed, his alteration could be pulled off. It was being performed much faster than he was used to but the alteration wasn't very complex in the first place. The two remaining birds held their positions as they prepared to fire more magic bullets along with their master - this was the perfect situation.

Gripping the knife tight, Shirou moved the design from his mind into the physical blade in his hand. Golden sparks crackled from the surface of the blade as the entire shape changed to fit Shirou's mental image. It wasn't a simple bayonet knife any longer, now it was a wickedly curved weapon of strange design. It almost looked like a boomerang.

Shirou stopped running and planted his feet. His arm cocked back and with considerable force, he whipped the blade towards the nearest bird. A satisfying cutting noise sounded as it bisected the construct horizontally. His alteration was successful as the weapon arced towards the final avian automaton and shattered that one as well.

Without constructs to protect her, Illya was rather defenceless. Magical bullets could only do so much and with the small distance between the two, it was unlikely she could even break Kiritsugu's altered blade. Shirou extended his right hand as the blade returned to him, the handle landing comfortably in his open palm.

Illya seemed to cower under the harsh glare he was giving her, looking at him with an unfamiliarity like he was a different person. "I - I give up, you win!" she shouted, collapsing on her knees. From behind, Kiritsugu sighed.

"You can't get scared in situations like these, Illya. You could have used your magical bullets or delayed Shirou with a wall of flame while you prepared another wave of Engel Note constructs. Shirou may be strong physically but your ability to quickly fire off spells can keep him at range for a considerable amount of time." There was a light noise of clattering china as he set his cup down. It was followed by a grunt as he stood and stretched. "Good use of alteration, Shirou. Next time leave the dramatic pause and pose out of the spar. We're doing this to prepare all of you for real combat. I know you don't want to hurt your sister but imagine her as an enemy that wants to kill you."

He strode past Shirou after giving his hair a ruffle. He neared Illya and held one arm over her head. In response, she gripped his forearm and he easily lifted her back to her feet. "I think that's enough for today, Shirou why don't you go get cleaned up and start on dinner? After that, you can trace a gift I got for you."

The boy in question looked down at himself. The top half of his shirt was stained with his own blood and sweat. He was an absolute mess, but at least he had won once in training. He could rub that in Rin's face when she woke up.

As the adrenaline from the fighting wore off, Shirou rapidly realized his body was much sorer than he had thought. Halfway to the house, he gained a limp and the right side of his body wasn't cooperating with his brain fully. Most of that had probably been from Rin's Gandr, it looked like there would have to be a break in training while he recovered. Taking some extra time to move, Shirou eventually stumbled into the bathroom and prepared to bathe.

… … …

In a little while, Shirou was in the kitchen pulling items from the fridge and cupboards to begin cooking. Rin, Illya and Kiritsugu were sitting at the dining table holding conversation as the evening news gently filled the blank space. Shirou couldn't really listen as he was incredibly busy with fixing dinner. Turning on the oven, Shirou mixed sauces and prepped what he could with a sharp knife. If she was going to show up at all, Fuji-nee would likely arrive soon which meant he would need to feed five people. Just in case, he would make enough for at least six. Usually, someone was extra hungry and took on another serving so there were never any left overs.

As if on cue, the doorbell sounded. "Illya could you go get the door?" Kiritsugu asked, eliciting an enthusiastic agreement as she hopped off into the hall.

"So could I get the insider hint on what you're giving Shirou?" Rin whispered, believing Shirou couldn't hear them. What neither of them knew was that he always listened, or at least he tried to listen anyway. His ears were quite sharp when he wanted them to be.

With his back to the table, Shirou heard a shuffling. It was probably Kiritsugu looking to see if his son was paying attention. Even though he was old, he was still ridiculously sharp. Shirou did his best to look as natural as possible. Quieter than the girl, he spoke. "I think we have an eavesdropper." He chuckled. Rin joined in with a giggle before taking a drink of her water.

"Shirou!" came a call from the front of the house. It was Illya, this wasn't going to be good, was it? "Your girlfriend is here!"

There were several noises at once. The clatter of a dish as Shirou dropped it into the sink, the noise of someone spitting out their drink and a loud snort from someone seeing through the tease. Shirou thought he heard a squeaking noise coming from the front of the house.

"You have a girlfriend?" Rin blurted out, rapidly realizing what she had just asked. "I - uh - well, how did you meet?" She decided on digging her hole deeper than it already was. The door to the kitchen slid open and Illya tugged someone into view. Taking a second to look, Shirou spotted Sakura who had bright burning cheeks. Looking further back, Shirou noticed Rin's face was in the same state.

"She's here~!" Illya sang as she stepped back into the dining room. "Give your boyfriend a big kiss hello, Sakura!" Illya teased, sending her father into a bout of laughter.

"Illya don't tease them too much. Let Shirou finish cooking first." Kiritsugu laughed, motioning for her to sit down before she got too excited.

"I don't have any girlfriends," Shirou mumbled to himself in defence. He faced forward to focus on his cooking while blood rushed to his cheeks. How could he have a girlfriend? He only spoke to two girls besides his sister and they were both just friends. Rin and Sakura were good looking, but he didn't think they were attracted to him - or that he deserved anything in that sense in the first place.

He blinked as the water near him began to boil. He could start actually getting things ready now.

… … …

Shirou rolled out several large dishes of various foods. Fried pork belly, xiaolongbao, fried rice, char siu, mapo tofu and various vegetable plates with a light miso soup to warm everyone up. The soup was served first while Shirou settled the other dishes on the table. Years back, Kiritsugu had bought Shirou cases of recipe books. The old man had seen how much he enjoyed cooking and decided to offer a few gifts. It broadened Shirou's culinary repertoire greatly and allowed him to make meals from almost every culture. He was still fuzzy on some strange European and American meals but he had most of Asia down.

Once everything was placed, Shirou removed his apron and settled opposite his father at one head of the table. He carefully filled his plate with what he wanted before looking around the table. If the TV hadn't been on, he reckoned the sound of chewing would be suffocatingly loud. "Well, since nobody is talking I'll take it I did a good job?" he asked, getting various agreements from his guests.

"I should have started staying over for the food a long time ago," Rin mumbled through bites, missing the glare she received from Sakura across the table. "Even if you fail as a magus I'd be more than willing to hire you as a personal chef." Kiritsugu snorted in amusement.

"Senpai has always been a good cook," Sakura added sheepishly. "Even when he was just starting out his meals were amazing." Her head was down as she spoke as if she were ashamed to say anything at all.

"Shirou just suddenly learned how to cook this well out of thin air?" Rin asked with some amazement. "Are you sure you're bad at magecraft or are you just toying with me?" She pointed her chopsticks at the boy accusingly.

Shirou paled, holding up one hand in surrender as he tried to look as passive as possible. "Nope, still terrible at magic. Please don't throw me to the wolves in the forest again," Shirou pleaded, remembering the last time Rin had thought he was holding out on her.

Sakura lifted her head and looked at Rin with a considerable shock. Illya noticed and chimed in. "Uh-oh, Rin." She leaned towards the Tohsaka and held one hand in front of her mouth as if it would silence her words. She still spoke loud enough for everyone to hear of course. "Looks like that upset Shirou's girlfriend." She giggled, laughing harder as both girls turned a lovely shade of pink.

Shirou looked towards his father who only offered a mischievous smile. It seemed like he knew something Shirou didn't, and it made him feel strange. Was he missing something the old man could see?

"Shirou learned to cook all by himself and he used me as a test for all his food experiments," Illya continued, speaking with pride.

"That explains all the extra weight you've gained," Kiritsugu teased, getting a laugh from the table at her expense. It broke the strange tension that had been growing. Kiritsugu was always good at doing those little things that Shirou couldn't.

Just as Ilya was about to whine, the front door slammed open and closed. "That'll be Fuji-nee. She's rather late actually," Shirou commented, munching on a piece of eggplant. On one hand, he counted with his fingers. _One - two - three_ and the dining room door slid open.

"I could smell your cooking from three blocks away!" she shouted, practically leaping over the table to sit down and begin filling her plate. Oddly enough, nobody seemed to mind the sudden intrusion. It was almost like this had become a daily occurrence. For most of the people at the table, it had.

Eating meals in a large group like this had become anything but uncommon. Fuji-nee always dropped by for free food, that had started right after discovering his talent for cooking. Rin had started staying for dinner only a few months ago. After being convinced by Shirou, she reluctantly stuck around. Her entire disposition changed after she ate the first time. She actually wanted to come for dinner the next day and everything fell into place from there. Since Rin had always stuck around outside to continue training Illya, she had always thought Kiritsugu had done all the cooking. Secretly, the Emiya family thought it was funny to lead the Tohsaka along into this way of thinking. The day she found out Shirou had been the true chef was also the day Shirou had had to "train" his resistance to magic by receiving dozens of Gandr shots.

Sakura began visiting two years ago. Kiritsugu had always taken on a sad smile and the two shared little glances between another when they thought nobody was looking. Over time the level of sadness in the old man's features had faded away. On her first visit, Kiritsugu had informed Shirou and Illya that Sakura was a magus as well. Or that she knew _of_ magecraft anyway. Sakura had seemed upset over being revealed like that, but Kiritsugu had explained his reasoning. According to him it was better if they were all on the same level. He didn't want anybody to be walking on eggshells around another and that seemed to placate the girl. After that, Sakura came around every couple days and occasionally prepared meals in Shirou's stead. She was discovered to be much more experienced with traditional Japanese meals than Shirou, so the quality of meals were about the same. This kitchen-sharing program wasn't something agreed upon, it was actually forced. Shirou had tried to convince Sakura to let him cook but she wasn't having any of it. According to her he "worked too hard" and "needed to take breaks".

Shirou thought the opposite and so did the old man. He was always trying to work harder and push himself to be better, he had to. If it made Kiritsugu happy then Shirou was prepared to push himself past his own limits and beyond. Pain was temporary and skin grew back so if that was all Shirou had to offer to get Kiritsugu to smile, it was worth it.

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chat. The adults brought up topics while the children filled in the blanks or added their own input, sometimes skewing off in tangents before starting all over again when Taiga or Kiritsugu moved onto something new. It was a fluid dynamic that sustained a pleasant atmosphere full of laughter. With good food and better friends, even the dullest day could be made enjoyable. Even Rin and Sakura - who always seemed to be avoiding one another - spoke and had a pleasant conversation.

As the night drew on, Taiga eventually said her thanks and left with a full stomach. From what Shirou picked up, she had to study for upcoming exams and couldn't stay any longer. Taiga was taking courses to become a teacher at Homurahara Academy. If everything went well, she would be teaching there in another two years. It meant Shirou would have to deal with her as his teacher and _that_ meant he'd have to make lunches for her, otherwise, she would steal his.

With Taiga gone, the conversations were more relaxed and sombre. Shirou found out how school was going for the two girls and discovered they were both excited for high school. Sakura specifically said she wanted to join the archery club as soon as she could. Since she was younger than him, she would have to wait an extra year to get her wish.

Sakura left around nine, fighting everyone who said she shouldn't go alone. Shirou asked if she could stay over just to be safe but apparently, she was needed at home. Shirou didn't like her walking all that way alone but there wasn't much he could do.

Rin decided to go to bed early around ten after helping Shirou clean up dinner. When they had been alone in the kitchen she'd complimented his tactics in the last spar. This nice side didn't last since she followed it up with "but I'll get you back next time" which left him feeling uneasy. She was going to amp up her Gandr, wasn't she?

When everything had been cleaned up and most of the house had gone to sleep, Kiritsugu invited Shirou out to the yard to keep him company over a cup of tea. The two of them hardly had any time alone so a moment to sit, relax and talk in private was more than welcomed. Shirou knew Kiritsugu better than most, so while he made a cup of tea for himself, Shirou also brought out a cup of coffee for the old man.

Walking through the engawa to the backyard, Shirou found said old man sitting right where he had watched the training mere hours ago. He was looking up at the stars and the full moon looming above. Just a cursory glance revealed the constellations Taurus and Orion. Ursa Minor and Major were visible as well, but they were quite common. Settling down beside his father, Shirou offered the cup of coffee which was graciously sipped.

There was a long period of silence where the two were just content looking at the stars. This side of Fuyuki was dimly lit compared to the Shinto area, which meant stars could really make themselves known. It made Shirou sad whenever light pollution hid the beauty of space. The twinkling stars were inspiring but depressing at the same time. They were pretty, but they also represented how small Earth was - how insignificant everyone really was in the grand scheme of things.

"I've never told you why you've been training so hard." Kiritsugu suddenly spoke without warning, taking another drink of his coffee.

"I thought it was just because you wanted me to be a good person and because I had to protect Illya." Shirou shrugged. If he were being honest, he hadn't really thought about his father's methods all that much. If he was stronger, he could protect people and defend them from powerful evil people. At least that was what he believed, Kiritsugu had made it clear in his training that saving a "good" person from an "evil" person was subjective. Sometimes, those perceived to be "evil" were actually doing good things. Immediately, Shirou thought of Kiritsugu himself. To most, he was known as the Magus Killer, but if he could settle down and raise a family could he really be that bad? Perhaps his actions were just misunderstood. One of these days when he was older he would have to have a chat with the old man.

"I want both of those things from you, but there's another reason beyond that. Four years ago, before you were adopted, I was involved in a War." Shirou focused on the old man's face. He was looking toward the stars distantly as if he were remembering something he would rather forget. "It was a War between magi fighting for an artifact that could grant any wish the victor had. I won, but it had been revealed to me that this artifact, the Holy Grail, was a lie. No matter who used it, no matter what sort of wish was asked of it, the result would be the same: unfathomable suffering." He paused to take a drink, looking down into the cup now.

"Is that what caused the Great Fire? Your wish?" Shirou wisely put two and two together.

"Not exactly. I could stay here all night and explain to you the entire workings of the Grail and the War, but there's a much faster way. I've watched you develop your own form of reinforcement magic. You've created your own aria for the process, right?" he asked, turning to look at Shirou directly. The black eyes of his father were slightly glazed. The emotion held within choked the boy up. He had never seen such a gaze from the old man before. "You call it tracing."

"Y-yeah," he managed to croak out.

"That's good, you'll need that," Kiritsugu responded immediately, reaching to his side to reveal a black leather book. The front facing was incredibly detailed with intricate engravings in the material. They were strange almost arcane shapes that gave the book an eerie visage. Shirou was rather suddenly faced with the scent of leather and rich wine. Where the wine smell came from was anyone's guess. "If you trace this book, you will understand what I mean. Your tracing allows you to see the history of objects and the thoughts of the creator. Not only will you be able to extract the knowledge held in the journal, but you'll also be able to see the thoughts I had at the time of writing." Kiritsugu explained, handing his son the book.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Shirou asked after a moment, taking the book in his hands.

"I have no idea, but if I tried to tell the story and explain myself, we'd be here past sunrise around the halfway point. Knowing me, I'd forget something as well." Kiritsugu chuckled, returning his gaze to the stars. "I never wrote my wish in that book." The old man took another sip. "I wanted to be a hero, to save everyone by putting an end to all conflict. I failed, but with all I've learned I've come to understand that you will succeed in my place."

Shirou's eyes widened. He would become a hero? Someone who would save people? "A hero?" he asked, testing the words with his own mouth. It was interesting to hear himself say it on account of the fact that he didn't believe it. "Why can't we both be heroes - together?" he asked, scrunching up his face. "You're not that old, yet."

His father laughed. "I'm pretty sure my time for this Grail War stuff has come and gone. It's not like I'm dying so you don't have to worry about that, but I have the feeling my role won't be as great as yours. I'll do my best to prepare you, but you should know how great a responsibility this is." He paused, looking around as if he expected to find someone listening in. "Rin believes the next Grail War will take place fifty-six years from now, but I know it will start in no more than six. I also know you, Rin and Illya will all be involved in it," he whispered, eyes looking grim. By his tone, this was something Shirou knew to keep as a secret.

Shirou fell quiet as he digested this information. Only he and the old man knew of this. It was likely all written in the black book held in his own two hands. The sight of this journal worried Shirou. What would he discover from tracing it? How would it affect him? Depending on where the old man started writing from, this could actually overload his brain with data and kill him. If he had stuffed it with years worth of material, the mass inflow of memories and details would short every circuit Shirou had. He gently closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. Looking inside himself he found his magic circuits and ran a quick check to make sure everything was in order. With his enhanced ability in reinforcement, Kiritsugu had been able to teach him how to visualize his own circuits as well as the circuits of others. With it, Rin had elevated his status as former "poster-reinforcer" to the very prestigious "circuit-tester". Apparently, he was only useful to test their magical strength like an inanimate instrument. Shirou counted up his circuits, all thirty-four of them wer- wait, thirty-four? He had twenty-seven a few days ago, how had he gained seven new circuits?

"Kiritsugu, why do I have more circuits than usual?" Shirou asked with his face scrunched in concern. Rin had taught him that a magus' circuits were hereditary, passed down and unchanging. Unless a magus had taken on a family crest, the number would always be the same from birth.

The old man stopped mid-drink to look at his son as if he had gone mad. "That's impossible, you can't acquire more circuits," he began, placing a hand on Shirou's shoulder. He scrunched his face in concentration before suddenly looking just as confused as the boy. "You have thirty-four circuits," he stated, face shifting harder as if he were struggling with something. "Twenty-seven of them are the normal ones I counted the first time but the rest of these are…new?" He paused, humming in frustration. "There's something else wrong here. You utilized magecraft earlier today in your spar with Rin and Illya, correct?"

Shirou nodded. "I used it a couple times. I reinforced my body and altered the blade you gave me."

Kiritsugu hummed, taking the book gently from his son's hands to replace it with a cup of tea. "Reinforce this cup so it won't break when dropped," Kiritsugu ordered, keeping one hand on Shirou's shoulder.

He did as asked, starting his aria with the normal "Trace on". The stabbing shot of pain coursed through his body. How could Rin and Illya make magecraft look so painless if they had to go through this every time they cast a spell?

"Stop," Kiritsugu ordered as soon as Shirou finished speaking. "Thirty-eight." He stated, removing his hand. "Your body tensed when you started, any reason why?" he asked, glaring into his son's eyes accusingly.

"Yeah, of course. It hurts to use magecraft but I've gotten used to it after a while." The face of pure confusion the old man gave him was a bad sign.

"Shirou your original twenty-seven circuits seem unused, even those seven new ones weren't utilized when you started that reinforcement. How are you accessing your magic circuits?" Kiritsugu asked. This was rapidly becoming more like one of Rin's tests with each question.

"I look inside my mind and focus on a point. Then I just start the spell and try to concentrate on what I want to do." Shirou tried to explain his process. It was incredibly hard since the words just weren't there. How he could explain something he didn't fully understand? He just looked within himself, began the casting process and it worked.

"There's no activation? You don't turn on a switch or imagine something happening to activate your circuits?" Kiritsugu grilled, looking dead serious.

Shirou shook his head. "No, never. I've never turned on a switch or anything, I've just started casting and it's always worked," he responded, getting a harsh sigh from his father.

"Then you've been using magecraft wrongly this entire time. I'm surprised Rin hadn't noticed this before me but knowing how stubborn you are, you likely didn't want to bother her." Shirou felt ashamed, his father had gotten the situation right on the nose. "You've been converting your body's nerves into makeshift magic circuits. You're lucky you haven't killed yourself considering magi who've tried to do what you've done eight times now have about a fifty percent mortality rate," Kiritsugu explained, getting a paling glance from his son. "Just don't cast spells like that anymore." The old man reached up to his robe-clad chest and grasped at the air before looking down as if he was missing something. "Shirou, could you go to my room and grab my coat for me? You know the one."

Shirou was confused as to why but he figured it was probably for good reason. Getting up, Shirou left to retrieve the large black trench coat which had come to appear familiar on his father's shoulders. Every time he held it, Shirou marvelled at how heavy it was and how light the old man made it seem.

Returning, Shirou wrapped the coat around his father's shoulders before settling back into place beside him. When Shirou looked again, there was a gun in his hands. "Where did you pull that from?" he asked, surprised at the sudden appearance.

His father paid him no mind, pulling on the piece of metal near the trigger which seemed to break the weapon in half. Gleaming in the night was the brass plating of a bullet. Shirou was surprised to watch his father handle the weapon with the casual nature of doing laundry. He removed the bullet and snapped his wrist upwards to close the weapon back up. Shirou noticed something strange about the bullet itself. Rather than a copper tip, it was off-white, an ivory colour.

"I'm going to give you an image to help with the process of your spellcasting. I'd like for you to picture this as you look to start channelling mana," Kiritsugu explained, lifting the now empty gun towards the shed in the backyard. The moonlight glinted off the surface of the weapon.

It was rather beautiful even if it was intended to cause death. Beautifully engraved metal for the receiver with stained wood for the main stock. It had been an item of loving creation at one point. Shirou watched his father with interest as his face settled into a cold gaze. It was the first time Shirou had ever seen such a glare from his father and it sent chills down his spine. Did he also look like that when he fired guns or used bows?

Kiritsugu's finger squeezed the trigger and a loud click echoed through the backyard as the hammer slammed into the firing pin. At that moment Shirou realized what his father had meant. Shirou had to imagine something activating to convince his circuits to go along. It didn't matter _what_ he imagined, he just needed to visualize _something_ to turn his circuits on at the same time.

Shirou set his hands on the floor of the house and closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw the back of the gun. He imagined the hammer coming down to strike the pin and as the two made contact, an explosion from the bullet within. All at once, his body flooded with a sense of power he had never felt before. The darkness of his mind came alight with the image of glowing green circuitry. He felt as if he had tapped into a reservoir of endless power. Feeling confident, Shirou used this sudden abundant source of mana to trace the entire house.

Similar to echolocation, a pulse echoed from his hands to move throughout the entire structure. A wireframe of the entire area came alive in his mind, rapidly filling with the building's true materials. He saw the kitchen and dining room, he could see himself and Kiritsugu sitting on the edge near the backyard. He could even see Rin and Illya sleeping in their rooms. Everything was recorded, everything was logged for future use. A pipe underneath the sink in the bathroom was improperly connected and might burst in the winter, the oven in the kitchen was going to blow a burner in a few days and a couple of the wooden floorboards needed replacing.

Shirou opened his eyes and smiled with pride. He lifted his hands from the house and the recreated model in his mind disappeared. He could access it at any time, but he needed his head clear for the next task. Carefully, both hands wrapped around the book his father had given him. "Trace on," he spoke defiantly.

Then something snapped. As the data began to stream into his mind, the circuitry in his body crackled and snapped. The pleasing green suddenly turned into an eerie red. The lines began to cross and more interference distorted his mind.

He had already begun tracing which meant data was continuously streaming from the book into his mind. Shirou grit his teeth, trying to keep the pain from overwhelming him. He could do this, he had been training for so long, a stupid book wouldn't kill him.

But it was a losing battle. His body began convulsing and blood vessels within his nose and ears popped. He was trying to brute force mana through his circuitry to try correcting it but that was only doing more damage than good.

His body started convulsing, muscles being triggered by the overwhelming tide of data flooded his mind and sent his neurons into a state of self-destruction. Years of memories and experiences were compressed into seconds. This was going to kill him, wasn't it? He was going to be killed by a book. Rin would laugh and call him a useless magus at his funeral.

He fell onto his back as a seizure took over his body. He couldn't let go of the book since it was being death-gripped by his hands at the moment. Kiritsugu shouted his name and moved to look into his eyes. There was panic in his face, he was worried about his son. Shirou couldn't even speak as his vision collapsed around the edges. His consciousness faded when it reached the point of a pinprick.

Was he going to die here? Was his father's journal going to kill him? He had so much left to do and who would protect Illya?

* * *

 **Something some of you may have noticed is the near 20k words in this chapter. As of late, I've just decided to throw arbitrary limits on chapters out the window. Whenever I feel a stopping point has been reached, the chapter will close. It's unlikely any chapter will ever be under 10k.**

 **Even though I've decided to take up a new project, the speed of chapter additions to Fate: Unbalanced Scales won't be altered. Since I'm working alongside the schedule of someone else, I can write up the new project while I wait for my beta to get at the next chapter. As of writing, Chapter 10 is around 10k words so it should be finished up. Depending on the speed of my wonderful beta, I predict the next chapter to be posted in a week or so.**

 **Remember to favourite and follow if you enjoy it. Leave a review and tell me how you think the story is going so far and if you think Shirou is better paired with Rin or Sakura. (No arguments please!) {Your reviews may influence the decisions of the next chapter, so choose wisely!}**


	10. Severing and Binding

**EDIT:** **The ones I love are all important to me. Who do I love? Well, myself and my family of course. Did you expect me to say _you_? SWG probably would have, but I'm just the editor.**

 **Wow! The number of reviews and feedback I got for the last chapter was insane! That's incredible guys, I really appreciate all of you taking the time to review. I had thought my phone was going crazy because within the hour of posting I had gotten like 4 reviews and they just kept coming after that! There were more reviews for the last chapter alone than all of the other chapters collectively. I guess I should ask you all more questions to get some good reviews, hm?**

 **As for your answers to the question I asked last chapter, looks like there's a massive spread of opinions in each direction, here's a short list of the opinions gathered from the reviews (As of writing, where those asking for both Rin and Sakura are counted as one vote to each girl):**

 **Rin: 13**

 **Sakura: 10**

 **Illya: 4**

 **I was shocked reading the first few reviews that wanted Illya to pair with Shirou. At the time I was drinking water and I might have choked a tad. I hadn't expected it due to the fact that it's technically incest, but I suppose it's not really... I think the police are at my door.**

 **I've messaged as many of the reviewers as I had time and I had quite a long chat with a few of them! {You know who you are} They provided good insight and ideas that I've capitalized on so a special thanks to all of you for aiding the creation of this fic.**

 **As a last note, before I let you all read the next chapter, I would like you all to thank my Beta, Talndir, for getting the proofing of this chapter done for you all to read! I don't want you to flood their inbox with private messages, but a little note at the bottom of your review (when you leave one - and you better!) would be much appreciated!**

* * *

Shirou floated gently in the darkness of his own mind. It looked like Rin had been right once again, he wasn't very bright. Although, that depending on one's definition of the word "bright". Much of his mind was empty and black. That being said, he could still see himself and everything here with him. A quick thought and his magic circuits revealed themselves in front of his very eyes. Some lines were crossed, some were shattered and sparks arced off another group. He could think, that was what he was doing right now, but he couldn't do anything else. There was no physical sense, no _being_.

It was rather concerning when he thought about it. He was trapped without any real clue what his physical body was experiencing. For all he knew, he was dead and this was what awaited the living after they expired. Shirou half expected a large screen to come down from above to begin showing him his entire life. It was far from impossible, considering something just like that had taken place a few moments ago.

Shirou had learned everything stored within his father's journal. The Grail War, the servants, the masters, the actions, the dreams and the end had been etched into his mind like the words scrawled into the journal itself. This knowledge didn't end with the War. Shirou had _traced_ his father's journal. As in, _sympathized_ with the creator. Every thought Kiritsugu had while he was writing had been embedded in the words. He had traced books before. Books were copied hundreds of times autonomously by machines. There was no "creator" because nobody had actually written the words. He had never traced hand-written books before and he certainly hadn't traced three entire years of material. The transfer of information had been like one of those weird dystopian films where pictures and short clips flashed in front of Shirou's forced-open eyes. Each passing second had sent shocking pain through him as his brain and body struggled to balance the flow of information and mana.

Kiritsugu's emotions, his ideas, his plans, his hypotheses and his fears were made as clear as glass. Shirou had always joked to himself about knowing the man better than he knew himself. Now he was absolutely confident in the expression. Shirou also realized how wrong he had been. He had always thought the old man had been simple and easy to read. He was actually operating on another level entirely. Through the entire War, Kiritsugu had plans for every occasion. Something else entirely was hiding in the background, however.

Kiritsugu was scared. Each step, each turn and each action he had been worried. It hadn't been for his own safety, not once had he ever considered himself through the entire War. Each thought had been of Illya and of another he frequently wrote about. Shirou had never heard the name before, but it had practically been burned into his mind after tracing the journal: Irisviel von Einzbern.

She had been his wife and the entire situation between the two was complex to say the least. They had loved one another more than Shirou could understand. Unfortunately, Irisviel - or Iri as the old man called her - had been fated to die in the Grail War. She _was_ the Grail so there was nothing Kiritsugu could do short of keeping Avalon within her, but even that would only delay the inevitable.

That was right, Shirou knew of Avalon as well. That bright golden light set in the distance of his own mind apparently had a name. It was the relic of King Arthur, the servant known as Saber. It was also what saved him after the Great Fire and it was what healed him each time he got any cuts or bruises. Shirou had always thought his body was unnaturally good at healing. Knowing the name of the device that had fixed him up time and time again, Shirou found that he could actually summon its image within his mind. A truly gorgeous scabbard made of gleaming gold and royal blue. The scabbard was something of fascination for him before the thought of what he had learned brought his mind back on track.

Throughout the War, Kiritsugu had always thought of his family. His decisions had always been to protect them, or to at least hide them away, while he fought to grant the wish that would ultimately save them. The wish for a world without conflict where they could live together in peace.

Kiritsugu's wish was never realized. The Grail was corrupt and any wish given to it would be altered to cause the most suffering possible. A servant had been the one to inform him of the disheartening news. That same servant, Caster, had been the one to steal Saber with means unknown so he could destroy the Grail and themselves in one motion.

Speaking of Caster, whenever he was brought up, Kiritsugu's thoughts differed greatly from what he had written down. In writing, he had made himself seem ignorant of the servant and seemed to purposely leave out details others would have made sure to capture. This hadn't always been the case. In earlier entries, Kiritsugu had tried to capture everything he could and had described the servant in detail. Suddenly, after one of his dreams, the details fell off. The old man was hiding something and even though he was reading Kiritsugu's mind, Shirou couldn't fully tell what it was. His thoughts while writing were seemingly nonsense rambling over having to "keep it hidden until the time is right" and the like.

Shirou didn't know what " _it_ " was and he was unsure on whether or not he wanted to. If Kiritsugu had decided on keeping a secret, it was probably for the better. Like his history as the Magus Killer and his heinous actions during the Grail War. His past was written in the book as well as his mind. He didn't know the full extent of his father's history, but Shirou knew enough to frighten him.

Beyond the Grail War, Shirou learned about Illya, Rin and Sakura. Illya was his sister, but she was also so much more than that. She was the first of her kind, a child born of a homunculus. A homunculus was a sort of lab experiment grown and raised by the Einzbern. These homunculi would act as the body for the forming Grail. This system was designed after the Third Grail War as the original method of using a normal chalice was deemed too dangerous. An inanimate object couldn't defend itself but a "human" could. It meant that Illya would act as the Grail for the next War. Kiritsugu guessed that even if she survived, she only had around twenty years to live and he wasn't betting on her surpassing that. Rin lost her father to his own servant and Kiritsugu had dealt the killing blow. She would also fight in the next Holy Grail War against Illya. Both were from magus families which created the War. That meant they would both be selected as masters. It was why Kiritsugu had specifically told Shirou not to reveal the contents of his journal to Rin. Rin believed the next Grail War would begin in around fifty-six years, not only six. If she knew that Illya would be a competitor, that she was training her future enemies and showing them how to kill her in combat, she would leave and never speak to either of them again.

Then he learned of Sakura, the most unfortunate of them all. She had been given away from the Tohsaka family to the Matou. It was apparently to protect her, but who in their right mind would call endless torture and abuse protection? Just thinking about it sent a pang of sorrowful rage coursing through his body. She had been Rin's sister, it was why the two seemed to be on eggshells around one another. Neither of them was willing to admit what had happened, neither was willing to do anything about their situation. Kiritsugu had tried, he had done his absolute best. He had purged the worms within the girl, he had personally watched over her but somehow the Matou head - Zouken - had tracked her down. Kiritsugu hadn't even tried to fight the worm, he had just given the girl back without a fight.

Shirou had been upset with his father over his complacency but after coming to understand his reasons, it was directed elsewhere. Kiritsugu had let the worm take Sakura because he had no way of truly killing the Matou head. Kiritsugu would endlessly fight an innumerable amount of insects and possible magecraft in a vain attempt at keeping a single girl safe. If he could even repel such a force, he would be condemned to being vigilant the rest of his life and he wouldn't be able to let her out of his sight for a moment. Rather than torture the two of them in such a way, Kiritsugu decided to take a minor loss. This way, Kiritsugu could try to devise a way to actually kill the worm-user rather than just stall him.

Every detail and experience had crammed into Shirou's brain and made him feel as if he had aged several years over the course of a few seconds. The endeavour hadn't altered his personality at least. Shirou still despised his father's methods. This hatred didn't transfer to the man himself at least. Shirou was capable of separating the "art" from the "artist" as it were. Killing innocents was the foulest act Shirou could think of, but Kiritsugu had done his best throughout the War to keep casualties to an absolute minimum. Shirou had wondered if there had been any other way, but he was operating on a limited amount of information. Perhaps the old man's choices _had_ been the best. The old man hadn't killed anyone who wasn't involved, he hadn't even started the Great Fire so he couldn't even be blamed for those deaths either.

There was one person in the journal who sickened Shirou. She was cold, heartless and was prepared to do everything Kiritsugu hesitated on. Maiya, the same name that had been engraved on the pistols Kiritsugu had gifted him. She was important to him, she had sacrificed herself for him. The strange contradiction of heartless sociopathy and caring devotion towards his father left Shirou confused. Besides caring for his father, she was a cold assassin. He couldn't condone the actions of a contract killer, someone who felt the ends always justified the means.

Only… His father was an assassin like that too, wasn't he?

… … …

… … …

… … …

"-in!" Came a shout from outside her room. The girl stirred beneath the thick blanket but otherwise remained still. Rin had decided on using one of the two westernized rooms of the Emiya household. She was more familiar with an actual bed seeing as how that was what she slept in at her own home. Futons seemed uncomfortable to her. How could anyone get a good night's rest lying on the floor?

"Rin!"

Was that her name? She was probably just imagining it. She had only been asleep for a couple hours. Who would want her in the middle of the night? She was probably just caught in that strange place between being awake and asleep.

Then the door was practically kicked down. "Rin, wake up!" In an instant, she was upright and wide-eyed, looking around with confusion. Her eyes eventually identified Kiritsugu and her brain processed the information with some delay. His face held an emotion she had never seen before and his voice was panicked. She had never seen so much emotion from the man, which was enough to terrify Rin. Something _bad_ must have happened. Then her eyes landed on Shirou's limp form in his arms. Her drowsy state vanished in an instant as her heart sank.

Illya skidded into the room like a white bolt of lightning. "What's with all the sho- Shirou!" she gasped, watching her father lay the boy on the floor. "What happened to him?" Her eyes seemed glazed and both hands moved to her chest, gripping at her heart over the white nightgown. Rin made the first move, throwing the blanket off herself before moving to the ground beside Shirou. Illya moved as well, trying to get a better look of her brother.

"What happened to him?" Rin asked, grabbing onto his face and opening his eyelids. His eyes seemed empty and glazed over as if he were a fish that had been sitting out a little too long.

"Shirou has been using his nerves as magic circuits since he started magecraft." That was a bad start. If there had been a problem when Shirou tried to convert one of his nerves, the resulting domino effect would cripple his body and send him into a vegetative state. The entire reason converting nerve endings into circuits was so dangerous was due to the body itself. Nerves were direct connections to the entire nervous system. If the process failed and the nervous system connected to the body's magic circuits, even for a brief moment, one would fry out the other. They were just like electrical circuits without any sort of fuse to protect them. If you connected the circuits together, one would overpower the other and burn it out. "But that isn't what's hurting him right now." Rin let out a breath she hadn't known she'd had held in. "Shirou activated his magic circuits after I helped him out. He started tracing things then made a noise and fell over," Kiritsugu recalled. Illya gave her father a look that told Rin he was hiding something. The girl's ability at detecting lies from Kiritsugu was uncanny. Even Sakura, someone who could usually see straight through people, had trouble with Kiritsugu. She had claimed that it was much easier when she was younger.

If Shirou hadn't been using his circuits at all since they started training in magecraft, a sudden activation of his _actual_ circuits might have caused his body to go into shock. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been using them at the time. "What did he trace?" Rin decided to ask. She was hoping he hadn't strained himself otherwise he might have demolished his circuits entirely.

Kiritsugu shuffled nervously, moving the boy's hair from his face with a pained expression. "A journal of mine and the house, possibly."

"A journal?" Rin asked, blinking in confusion. " _Handwritten_ by you?" she asked, getting a short nod. "When did you start writing it?" she asked, motioning for Illya to come closer. "Your surface healing won't work, you'll have to look deep inside to heal his body from the inside out. It won't fix him at this point but it might keep him from getting worse," Rin guided, still waiting for an answer.

"About three years ago," Kiritsugu admitted with some shame.

"Are you an idiot!?" Rin had an outburst, words spewing out of her mouth before the filter in her mind could catch them.

Kiritsugu shut his eyes, back straightening to move his body out of the way. "I didn't know of the effects it could have."

"I should have made you read _Fundamentals of Magecraft_ ," Rin mumbled with a shake of her head. She placed both hands on either side of Shirou's face and closed her eyes to try and determine how much damage had been caused. "Shirou's tracing ability looks beyond just the surface of the object. He looks beyond the material and into the creator so he can pick up on flaws only those intimately familiar with the object's construction can see. It's why he's better at reinforcement than I am. He probably had to see _you_ each time you made an entry. That much information is way too much for anyone to handle," Rin described. If the way he twitched was any indication, the thought had never crossed his mind.

Rin sighed. "His circuits are a mess. They're bundled up and shorting out. Some of them don't even connect to anything at all. What makes it worse is that his body is still trying to use them." The girl hummed and furrowed her brow. "But…there's no damage?" she asked, seeming surprised. "Illya, have you healed anything yet?"

The albino shook her head - not that Rin could even see on account of her closed eyes. "I haven't found anything, he should be fine." She was beginning to panic more than her father. If Rin didn't handle the situation quickly, she was going to have two people breaking down due to fear. There was a reason emergency instructions told people not to panic.

"I'll do what I can to fix his circuits, but it's not as easy as it sounds. I'll need somewhere quiet to work and a lot of time." Rin removed her hands from the boy and looked to the other girl in the room. "Illya, in the shed out back is a book Shirou borrowed. It's called _Operations and Analysis of Magical Circuitry,_ can you go grab it for me?" Rin didn't need to say it twice. After a short nod, the girl bolted out the door to retrieve the book.

"Kiritsugu, can you carry Shirou to his room? I'll put on some clothes quickly and be right there." Rin had no idea if this ailment was time sensitive or not but she wasn't prepared to make any gambles. Moving quickly while the older Emiya moved his son, Rin threw on some decent clothes over her pyjamas and moved through the open doors into Shirou's room. She was taken aback for a second at how clean and _empty_ it was.

There were only three entire objects in the space: a futon, a desk with a small lamp and a small wardrobe. Simple things for a simple boy, she supposed. Kiritsugu had laid him on top of the futon so he could at least be comfortable. The older man was murmuring something Rin couldn't pick out. He seemed to be on the edge of a mental collapse.

"Thank you, I can take it from here."

"I'm staying," he responded before she could even finish speaking.

Rin frowned. She could tell him that she needed silence so she could concentrate and hear Shirou's breathing but was there any use? Kiritsugu was a very stubborn man like his son. Whenever either of them settled on a goal, there was no stopping them. Rin decided not to comment on the matter, moving to kneel at Shirou's side.

"I've never done this before," she admitted. "I have no idea how this is going to turn out." It probably wasn't the best thing to hear when someone's life was on the line. At least it was honest.

Rin thought she heard the sound of teeth grinding against each other. As Kiritsugu opened his mouth to speak, Illya burst through the door. "Nobody told me you were in a different room!" she complained, jogging up to hand Rin the thick book.

Rin flipped it open to a page that held a green sticky note. "Shirou borrowed this book to learn more about how magic circuits work. It also has instructions on how to repair damaged circuits and some other useful information I'll need. If Shirou thought his circuits were damaged, he might have tried to fix them by himself. Hopefully, the idiot just did some reading." Rin flipped through the pages trying to find whatever she was looking for. Her voice was a mumble as she read headers and brief passages of the material. It took a few seconds but eventually, a page on fixing circuit flow caught her attention.

Rin tapped the page twice with her index finger. "Got it." Her head lifted to Illya who was slightly panting from her run. "Illya, you'll have to wait outside. I need to listen to Shirou's breathing, not yours." Illya seemed to have a brief moment of conflict in her mind before deciding the more experienced magus was right. With her out of the room, Rin began to follow the instructions.

… … …

… … …

Illya gently cracked the door to Shirou's room open. He was still unconscious even a whole day after the event. He was lying face up on the futon with his bare chest exposed. Rin had said it was a necessary step but Illya figured she had just wanted to see him without a shirt on. She had peeked into the door while the girl had worked that night, her hands had been _all_ over her brother.

Pouting, she nudged the door open wider with her hip. In her hands was a tray holding tea, water and some snack-type foods. Rin had recommended it all, saying he would feel drained upon waking up. Yesterday she had done the same, leaving the tray in case he awoke.

Settling the tray down off to his side, Illya stood and looked over her brother. It was odd to see him so fragile and defenceless when he was usually so strong. He took beatings from a man twice his size but always got back up even when he was more bruise than boy. When Rin punched him, or even when she hit him with a shot from Zelle or Storch Ritter, he always picked himself up regardless of his wounds. She had personally watched him continue fighting with a broken arm as if the injury didn't even bother him.

She admired his stubbornness and actually tried to emulate it in her competition with Rin. Illya tried her best to replicate every spell Rin could perform. The only thing she couldn't emulate were spells she couldn't actually see. Magecraft that never actualized anything, like reinforcement, projection and the spells Rin had used to fix Shirou the other night. It had taken some time to find a healing spell that she could learn. Most spells worked through touch, but the spell Illya had learned healed a zone in front of her hands. It could be used to heal internal injuries through touch but the focus was primarily on exterior wounds.

Sighing, the homunculus turned to leave the room. As she reached the door she thought she heard a shuffle from behind. Her heart rate jumped in surprise as she turned to see if Shirou was awake. The expression faltered as she realized her ears were just playing tricks on her.

Nothing had moved, he was still out of it.

Then there was an unmistakable grunt. "Shirou!" In a blur, she slid to his side and peered down at his face. He hadn't moved but his eyes were open and they looked around the room in confusion. She was so happy he had woken up that she had wrapped her arms around him in a hug without even thinking.

"What happened? Illya?" he asked quietly with a scratchy throat.

"You hurt yourself you big dummy, everyone was so worried about you because we thought you were going to die or that you weren't going to wake up." She reached up to move a strand of hair from her face, smiling warmly at her stupid brother. She noticed that he hadn't moved, that he hadn't even tried to reciprocate the embrace she had offered. His face scrunched up and his body seemed to stiffen as if every muscle had activated at once.

"I-I can't feel anything."

The colour and happiness drained from Illya's face. "What do you mean?" she asked, grabbing onto his hand and lifting it slightly. She gently tried tossing his hand, watching it rise and fall back onto her own like a limp noodle.

"Did you touch me? My hand moved but I didn't move it." His hand lifted higher out of her grasp without warning. He brought it in front of his face while Illya breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, she'd been worried he'd turned into a vegetable.

Illya turned her head and shouted towards the door for her father. She turned back towards Shirou and adjusted the hair hanging over his face affectionately. "You strained yourself and ended up almost putting yourself into a coma. Rin thought you wouldn't wake up for _weeks_." She had been able to explain it better after her excitement died down some.

Her brother grunted, sitting up on his elbows very slowly. He was moving like a robot and it took him two tries to position his elbows in a spot that supported his weight. "It's a real wonder then." Illya was confused by what he meant by that.

Kiritsugu peeked in from the door, face splitting into a warm smile. "You're alright, I'm so glad. How are you feeling?" he asked, expression holding while his son returned a look of apprehension. It was as if it was the first time Shirou had ever met him.

Realizing that something was asked of him, Shirou looked down at himself and tested his legs by lifting them one after another. "My entire body is numb, I can't feel anything. I guess I really did a number on myself this time." The boy rolled over onto his front and carefully pushed himself onto his feet with the help of Illya. He wobbled then seemed to balance himself. "I don't know if I should use my circuits anymore," he mumbled. He tried to take a step forward, but all sense of balance went out the window and he collapsed right onto Illya.

Making a surprised noise as he fell, the small girl pushed out her arms to try and stop him before being crushed on the floor. Sprawled out underneath him, she wheezed as the air was forced from her lungs. "H-heavy!" Illya whined. Shirou struggled to get off her, frantically apologizing as he did.

Kiritsugu held a soft smile as he watched. "Shirou, you don't have to give up your magecraft yet. Tohsaka said you should be fine to use your circuits whenever you want. You just had a slight short after activating your circuits because of their disuse. It shouldn't happen again." He took a step back from the door. "If you're looking for someone to thank, thank the Tohsaka girl."

With that, he left the two siblings alone. Illya was eventually freed from Shirou who started looking down at himself as if for the first time. Illya sat back on her legs as she watched him examine his limbs and body. He pinched the back of his hand and poked at his own chest. After a while, she spoke up. "You were only out of it for two days, not two years."

He looked up at his sister with confusion, face softening into something almost like sadness. "Right, I should just get over this. It's just strange…"

Illya blinked in surprise. "What's gotten into you, big brother?" she asked, shuffling closer to him to examine his face better. She didn't want him lying to her and the easiest way to find out if he was was by reading his face. Every thought was written on it, plain as day.

The two locked eyes and shared a moment of silence. Why was there such a resounding sense of sadness in his eyes? "It's nothing, just thinking about some things."

"You can't use that excuse every time to get past my lie detection." Illya pouted, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

Shirou chuckled, glancing at the floor before back up into her crimson eyes. "Do you think homunculi can still be princesses?"

… … …

… … …

It took a good week before Shirou fully regained feeling through his entire body. He had been able to walk around and go to school but he had been banned from the kitchen after his first attempt at cooking. Because he couldn't really feel what he was grabbing, he had cut himself three times trying to finish the first dish. Illya had gotten tired of healing the wounds and had called Sakura over to take over the kitchen duties for a while.

The girl had been more than happy and had actually elected to stay in the house while Shirou got better. She cooked, cleaned and even tried to _bathe_ him. Shirou quickly shot the last prospect down with some embarrassment. Just because his sense of touch didn't work didn't mean he would drown in a bathtub or that he couldn't clean himself, or the house for that matter.

Unable to cook and being forced out of housekeeping, Shirou actually felt guilty and anxious. He'd had no idea how much household chores relaxed him until he couldn't do them anymore.

Training still happened every two days, although Shirou's training was strictly limited to magecraft. With his circuits functioning properly, spells came to him a little easier. He was nowhere near the level of Illya or Rin but he could at least cast simple ease-of-life spells. Making flame or water in his hand was no longer a herculean task. An area he improved greatly in was reinforcement. With mana so easy to access now, he outclassed Rin greatly.

When he had shown her a pipe he'd reinforced to be harder than titanium, she had smiled. It wasn't a friendly congratulatory smile, but something rueful and full of evil. A sickening feeling of dread washed over him whenever she looked like that. He just knew that she would do something evil whenever that damned smile came around.

Shirou was right. After claiming he had been holding out on her, she sent him to fight wolves with only the clothes on his back and a rolled up newspaper for a weapon. At least it was summer so he wouldn't freeze in the cold. And with his newfound skills, he wouldn't be defenceless and hungry.

Wolf was very tough meat, both to cook and eat.

… … …

Shirou creaked open the door to the shed. Looking behind himself to ensure he wasn't being followed, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

He couldn't sleep again. It wasn't because of the usual nightmares but something else. Since he learned the name behind the golden glow in the back of his mind, it had been calling to him. Like Illya whenever he tried to relax, it jumped into his face and tried to make him do _something_.

The boy was hesitant to obey the Arthurian scabbard. It was almost as if the artifact wanted to be removed. Like it didn't fit inside him and it needed to be with someone else. Kiritsugu had supposedly transferred it to him during the Great Fire to keep him alive. From what Kiritsugu had written down, Saber would be nearly invincible were she to take hold of it again. With her energy feeding the scabbard, its regenerative properties were bolstered tenfold. Gashes, broken bones and even mutilated limbs restored themselves to full functionality within seconds. Without her energy, scrapes and cuts healed within hours rather than instantly. Even though Avalon was telling him to remove it from his body, something else was telling him to keep it there with matching intensity. Shirou felt like he was in the midst of a tug-of-war.

When he pictured the scabbard in his mind, it was almost like he could actually hold it within his hands. Shirou considered how he could appease both sides. How could he simultaneously actualize Avalon while keeping the relic within his own body?

In her teachings, Rin had spoken briefly about "projection" magecraft. It used fundamentals and properties from reinforcement magecraft in a more advanced way. When she had gone over it, she claimed it to be entirely ineffective and useless as a field of magecraft. Shirou had actually agreed were her on the matter after she explained herself.

Projection magecraft was similar to using a photocopier. Using mana, a second copy of an original item was created. Usually, the item was inferior in some way and it typically dematerialized within minutes or even seconds.

But a minute was all Shirou _and_ Avalon wanted. The former wanted to hold the beautiful scabbard in his own hands while the latter wanted to be realized within the world once more. Kiritsugu had written that Avalon was a relic of the "Fae". Whoever they were, would Shirou be able to reproduce it properly? Before he could even consider projecting a powerful artifact like Avalon, he would need to work on his aria and try projecting simple things. If he wasn't careful using magecraft, he might have a repeat of that night with Kiritsugu's journal.

Kneeling on the cold stone floor of the shed, Shirou picked up a simple pipe. There was a surprising abundance of pipe around here. Shirou had no idea where it came from, but he imagined Kiritsugu had something to do with it.

Holding the pipe in one hand, he closed his eyes. Just like his father had taught him, Shirou imagined the hammer of a gun coming down to strike the firing pin. His circuits came alive as the gunpowder of an imaginary bullet went off. " _Trace on_."

The wireframe of the pipe popped into his mind. Since his circuits had activated, designs of traced objects came to him much faster. One step done, onto the second. "Examining composite material." From the bottom to the top, the wireframe filled with metal and became a real object he could realize.

Shirou stopped before moving forward with the projection part of things. The still image of the pipe rested in the background of his mind. This didn't sound right. How could he replicate something if all he did was find out what it was made of? He wouldn't be able to capture Avalon's beauty if he just filled a mould with whatever he believed it was made of. He had to go back further. He had to figure out precisely what its make-up was, find every conceivable flaw and see it from the creator's point of view. If he could do that, why couldn't he also try to replicate an object's experience to match the age and weathering?

Wiping the design from his mind, he began anew. He would need to add lines to his aria and he might have to reword what he already had. Examining made it sound as if he really understood the makeup material when in reality, he was just guessing. Speaking in that manner, the design was completed and nothing could be done to increase its quality.

Closing his eyes and concentrating again, Shirou took deep breaths. "Determining the concept of creation." Without warning, green sparks exploded from the pipe as if it were a downed power line. Dropping the pipe with a loud clatter, Shirou looked between the item and his smoking hand.

"Guess this is why Rin is so mad whenever Illya casts her spells so easily," he mumbled, complaining to himself in the dark space. This was going to be a great big game of trial and error to see which words would grant the desired effect. Maybe _determining_ was too absolute. Maybe he had to work in hypotheticals…

That was it!

Shirou gripped the pipe tightly with renewed vigour. "Hypothesizing the concept of creation."

… … …

… … …

The sound of a door sliding closed was followed by a girl calling out to the house. Rin had come by after school again for dinner and training. Mostly dinner.

Moving into the kitchen where she imagined everyone would be, the girl pulled out an old-looking book. "I found something in my father's library. It's an old book from the Clock Tower about magic training I've never read yet." Illya and Kiritsugu were playing a card game that included a wooden board and pegs while Shirou was in his usual spot: the kitchen.

"You haven't read all your father's books yet?" Kiritsugu asked casually, playing a five of spades before moving a coloured peg two spaces in the board.

Rin huffed, opening the book and skimming through the first few pages. "Of course not. He had thousands of books and I've been busy with school, training _and_ teaching." She turned a couple more pages, skipping the unnecessary introduction stuff. "Besides, I've been experimenting with some of the spells I've read and gotten some neat results." Looking up, she watched both Illya and Shirou shudder.

"Don't remind me," they said in unison, getting a laugh from their father.

"Anyway, this book was on teaching magecraft to others so I left it on the backburner for a while." The girl shrugged, finding something interesting.

"You figured training two novice mages by yourself without any sort of guidance was the best decision," Kiritsugu laid out blandly, exposing how flawed that idea was.

Rin's eye twitched. "I think I've done a good job so far. I don't think anyone has any complaints," the girl toted confidently.

Shirou made a noise and raised one hand but after catching the glare Rin gave him he quickly shut his mouth.

"That's what I thought." She nodded to herself, humble as ever. "Anyway, it says here the first step in training mages should be to evaluate their origin and element. That way you can discern what field of magecraft they would best be suited for."

Rin hadn't done that, in fact, she had completely forgotten. Come to think of it, she didn't even know her _own_ origin and element. That was probably because she had neglected this book and never learned the spell. That and her father had been so busy with the War that he hasn't even begun to train her before his death. He had helped her out when she got stuck but he never sat down and taught her directly like she had done with Shirou and Illya. In that sense they were lucky.

Illya and Shirou were looking at her with accusing eyes. "Hey!" she shouted suddenly. "I was busy, it's not my fault." With a huff, the Tohsaka crossed both arms over her chest and looked in another direction.

"Well, nothing we can do about it now. Can you see what all our elements and origins are?" Shirou asked, wiping his hands on a towel as he looked up from his place in the kitchen.

Rin looked sheepish. "Well… no," she admitted while a few strange glances were cast her way. What was the point of revealing a missed step if she had no way of correcting it? At least she had an excuse. "I can figure out elements pretty easy but the book never spoke of a process to figure out origins. From what I read, it's a rather complex process too." The older man snorted before playing the last card in his hand, an ace of hearts, and moving his coloured peg two spaces forward.

Rin eyed him suspiciously. "What's so funny?" she asked, leaning forward onto the table. Kiritsugu had been hiding things from her ever since that first day he came to see her. She really should have asked more questions when he was being fully honest with her.

He hummed questioningly, spreading the four cards he played out so he could count his points for the hand. "I just found it amusing that the book claimed origin deciphering to be difficult."

Rin narrowed her eyes. "You know the incantation, don't you?" While he moved to move his peg nine spaces forward, Rin did her best to try analyzing his face and body. She couldn't get a single signal from him.

"Yes he does, he's trying not to say anything so I can't catch him lying," Illya called him out, moving her peg twelve spaces. She smiled wide as her father gave her a scowl.

The old magus sighed and shook his head lightly. "No, not exactly." He paused as his hands idly swept up the cards on the table. He looked over his shoulders as if there was someone watching him from behind. "Rin, you know of my father, correct?" She blanched. Norikata Emiya, the sealing designate who single-handedly converted an entire island into flesh-hungry ghouls.

Rin had done her own research long ago in an attempt at learning more about the Magus Killer. She hadn't found much concrete evidence, but her family name allowed access into records of some of the unimportant sealing designates. Everything beyond who Norikata Emiya was was expunged and classified, but the location of his discovery lead Rin to investigate the area and its rumours. Supposedly Alimango Island was cursed. Years back, the priest disrupted the spirits of the area and all of the inhabitants became crazed cannibals. It was why the entire area was avoided by everyone as the curse still condemns the island to this day. It didn't take a genius to guess that these cannibals were vampiric ghouls.

"He was a very wise man. Foolish, but wise," Kiritsugu shuffled the compiled deck of cards and set them down in the center of the table. "In order to conduct his experiments, the knowledge of a subject's origin was required to ensure they were compatible. I was his first test subject, an experiment to see if his design had worked." He leaned back on his legs and gently placed his hands on the table. "Following certain events, I had to leave my home without my father. Deciding to take something with me as a childish memento, I took the device on my way out and haven't looked back since." He leaned forward again, picking up the cards and dealing six to himself and his daughter.

"Do you still have the device?" Rin asked, interest piqued.

He nodded slowly. "It's been with me ever since. It's in one of the hidden pockets of my coat. Unfortunately, the old man could never perfect it. It has conditions which need to be met, two to be specific." Casually, the Magus Killer picked up his hand and looked at the cards, shuffling them around between his fingers with a squint. "The first is that both the caster and the subject must be willing to reveal themselves to the other, it has to be spoken as a verbal contract. The second is that both involved must activate their circuits so the soul and body can communicate." The man placed two face-down cards in front of him and Illya reached to place two of her own on the pile.

"Is it dangerous? Have you ever used it before?" Rin asked, leaning so far forward that she was on her knees.

"I've used it, yes. Although I can't really say if it's dangerous or not. Sealing designates aren't really concerned with safety when it comes to their experiments as you might know. The times I've used it have gone well but there's no telling if it's entirely safe." Illya continued leaning over the table to cut the deck about halfway. Kiritsugu flipped the top card of the lower portion to reveal a three of clubs. "Potential side effects or dangerous might occur with each use, or it may only affect users outside the Emiya bloodline."

"Then you can use it to see our origins. Since you're most compatible with your father, you're the least likely to experience something adverse." Rin commented, leaning back in her seat.

Kiritsugu shook his head. "I refuse. Although unlikely, it's possible for the one being examined to see the memories of the one using the device. I'd like to avoid risking something like that as much as possible." His voice was a tad colder than it had been. Before, he had just been explaining something as he played a game, but this comment was focused.

Rin pouted. "Then I guess I have no choice but to use it myself, I assume you plan on letting me use this device?"

He nodded, watching his daughter play an eight of diamonds. Without skipping a beat, he laid down a seven of clubs and moved his peg two spaces. Just as quickly, the albino played a six of spades and moved her own peg three spaces, sticking out her tongue teasingly. Rin didn't know how to play the game, but she was under the assumption Illya was winning by her actions alone. Kiritsugu hardly seemed to mind, turning his head towards the kitchen to call out. "Shirou, if you wouldn't mind could you please get my coat from my room?"

A short noise revealed his son's acknowledgement. Within a few seconds, the boy jogged from the kitchen out the dining room door. "I can't tell you what to expect, everyone experiences things differently and each viewing produces different results."

"So someone else has used this thing before?" Rin took away from his words. Kiritsugu played a five and smiled as his daughter looked at him in shock. He moved his peg four spaces and chuckled as Illya placed her head sadly on the table.

"One person, yes. It was mostly to verify what my father had seen." As Kiritsugu finished speaking, his son returned with a thick black coat in his hand. Carefully, Shirou settled it beside his father before returning to the kitchen. The older man reached into a pocket to withdraw an old, crusty looking glove. It was in all shades from light tan to black. Crafted from mismatched patches of leather poorly sewn together several times over. Holes were cut out on the pads of each finger, edges wrapped with a thinner material that was also crudely sewn onto the leather. It looked as if it was a few minutes away from crumbling into dust.

"That's the almighty device?" Rin laughed shortly, getting a sideways glance from the older man.

"If the Clock Tower knew this existed, we wouldn't be having this conversation. With how difficult it is to discover someone's origin, they'd hunt me down endlessly to try and recover this alone. I'd be a sealing designate just like my father." Kiritsugu pointed out, stretching to gently place the old glove on the table in front of Rin.

The Tohsaka magus picked it up and looked it over carefully. It seemed like any other glove she had seen in her life, although much older and in a greater state of distress.

"Can we see Daddy's origin and element?" Illya asked, raising her head finally to look up to her father. Kiritsugu had put down his cards and seemed… nervous. As if he was uncomfortable with the prospect.

"I'll have to pass. I already know my origin and element and we wouldn't want to risk hurting Tohsaka." The man looked at the young magus with a strange gaze that told her his flimsy excuse was best left untouched. It seemed everyone else in the room noticed this as well since nobody brought it up any further.

"Well, I guess I'll start with myself." Rin turned the glove over, verifying that it was for the right hand.

"Hey, Rin." Illya suddenly distracted her just as she was about to slip the glove on. "You use German for a lot of your spells, right?" Rin nodded, a lot of her spells _did_ use German in one way or another. Whether it was broken and nonsensical was a different matter altogether. "If magecraft is in German or Latin, how come when I speak German I don't cast fireballs?"

Rin blinked slowly a few times, looking into innocent, naive crimson eyes. Kiritsugu snorted before laughing and Shirou quickly followed. Illya looked between them in confusion. "What's so funny?" she asked, pouting as she felt like the butt of a joke.

Rin didn't laugh at all, but an involuntary smile did come across her face. She held her composure pretty well until she imagined all of Germany flinging balls of fire around like a bad fantasy movie.

Once everyone had calmed down some, Rin actually answered the question. "Magecraft could be cast in any language, but that's not up to the decision of the master. I taught you that magecraft is all about visualization and actualization. What that means is, you have to visualize the spell in your mind and actualize it with your magic circuits. The words magi use vary with each person. Illya, you're a special case in that you can copy a magus' spell exactly using the same process and words. Other magi have to find their own way of speaking and casting to actualize the spell. Take Shirou for example, he needs to speak an aria before he can begin reinforcement while Kiritsugu and I can do it without speaking a word."

"Dinner's ready!" Shirou called, bringing out the first few plates of steaming food.

… … …

Thankfully, Taiga didn't show up for dinner so they didn't have to wait for her to leave to begin casting magecraft. Following some of the guidelines in her book, Rin lit magically-infused candles she had brought along for the element-deciphering portion of things. She also slipped the glove onto her right hand, careful not to bend her fingers too much in the off chance that she blew out the stitching.

"So I can make sure I got it right, I'll examine myself first," Rin explained, holding one hand, the ungloved left, to the center of her chest. The young magus closed her eyes and recited a three-count aria she had remembered from the book used to discern elements. As she finished speaking, her eyes opened and began flickering around as if she were reading pages from an invisible book. It took a few moments but eventually, she spoke with minor exertion. "My elements are…fire, earth, water, wind and ether."

The two children didn't seem phased but Kiritsugu's eyes opened rather wide. "You're an Average One, skilled in all elements of magecraft. It's a very rare trait highly sought by the Mage's Association." Kiritsugu explained the rarity to his children who quickly changed from confused to awed.

Changing hands from the left to the right, she placed her fingertips against her chest and suddenly… nothing happened. Scrunching her face in confusion, she looked to Kiritsugu for help. "I've never tried it on myself. As odd as it sounds, try speaking a verbal contract with yourself. Use your name and state your plans, then respond to it."

Rin looked down at herself, feeling silly already. "I, Rin Tohsaka, request permission to view the origin of you, Rin Tohsaka." She frowned, feeling ridiculous. Suddenly, the glove began to glow a sickly blue. Confidence returning, Rin spoke the response to herself. "I, Rin Tohsaka, permit Rin Tohsaka to view my origin." All that confidence left her body after speaking that absolute butchery of wordplay aloud.

"Now activate your magic circuits and send mana into the glove." Kiritsugu guided, watching with some interest. Doing as ordered, Rin twitched like she had just been jolted by electricity. A short stabbing pain shot into her core but that seemed to connect herself to… well, herself. Although this was deeper than the inside of her own mind for certain. Her eyes began flickering once again, sifting through information and trying to discern what she was looking for. Suddenly, her eyes locked in place.

"My origin is…" she squinted as if trying to see something blurred in the distance. Her eyes were clouded and seemed to look _through_ the wall ahead almost as if she were trying to focus on something which wasn't really there. "Balance?" she asked herself. "An imaginary element, huh."

Giving her head a shake, she lifted the gloved hand from her chest and motioned for one of the two other children to come closer. Illya moved faster than Shirou, kneeling in front of Rin with a bright smile. The process repeated in much the same way. A simple left-hand element divination before the two spoke their verbal contract to begin the process of finding her origin. The contract was identical to the one Rin had spoken, only with the names changed where they ought to be. When they were finished constructing their contracts and activated their circuits, Rin placed her hand on the albino's chest. She winced and made a slight noise of pain but seemed to relax shortly after.

Rin took considerably longer to find whatever she was looking for. Two entire minutes passed as the Tohsaka seemed to sift through whatever it was she was being given. Throughout her time looking, the Tohsaka gave small shakes of her head and hums of frustration. At the end, she gave a short nod and a noise of triumph. She had found what she had been searching for.

"Your element is ether and your origin is 'wish'," Rin declared confidently, removing her hand to point at Shirou. Illya skittled away to her original position before looking at her hands. She seemed unsure of what to do with this information.

Shirou settled in front of Rin and shuffled nervously. This was way too personal for his liking and he couldn't stop his cheeks from turning pink. "I think I can find your element using the glove alone. When I looked within myself, it was like I was trying to find my way through a dark maze. Illya had been a cold, dense fog that seemed to go on forever. Along the way, signals and hints seemed to clue me into the elements." She paused, looking at the glove. "It would be a good test to see how much this glove can really tell about someone. We'll check with this and I'll try to guess your element before I figure it out for real with the spell, alright?"

Shirou nodded complacently, likely not understanding a single word she had just said. Just like the last two times, the contract was made without issue. With the glove glowing that strange blue shade, Rin and Shirou activated their circuits and the Tohsaka touched the glove to his chest. As soon as she did, the girl flinched greatly before recoiling her hand as if she had been bitten or struck. The force of her involuntary motion actually sent her off balance and she landed flat on her back. All eyes landed on Shirou in a mix of confusion and surprise. Rin stared at him in bewilderment as if he had just punched her in the face for no reason. She seemed scared, _mortified_ even.

Rin slowly looked at her hand, trying to see if she was hurt in any way. With her mouth agape, she turned the appendage over three times, almost unbelieving that she _hadn't_ been hurt. Unable to see blood, she eventually decided she was alright. "Your element and origin are the same. They're both **_sword_**."

… … …

… … …

… … ...

Rin lifted both arms in a cross above her head, gritting her teeth in preparation for the incoming blow. There was a loud boom as the shockwave from the impact blasted through the area. Her right leg wobbled but through sheer stubborn will, she forced the limb to hold firm.

Every day he seemed to be growing stronger and if he kept this up, she would be unable to block even a single one of his attacks. Over the last year, she'd actually had to focus on dodging his strikes rather than taking them head on like she was used to. Rin had made that mistake once and received a nasty bruise that spread across her entire torso.

The pressure eased off her arms and reflexively, Rin lowered and repositioned her forearms to make a wall covering her face and front. Just as expected, another powerful blow impacted her front and sent her slid back through the grass. With practiced ease, Rin spaced her legs to keep herself from falling over backwards when her heels eventually dug in to stop her abruptly. She let out a controlled, albeit shaky, breath.

Peeking from behind her arms she saw bright orange hair and burning eyes. Smoke actually wisped off the shinai in his hands. When did she start dropping off in these spars? When had Shirou gotten so ruthless?

Maybe she shouldn't have made him fight wolves when they were younger.

Gritting her teeth, Rin reached into her coat pocket to withdraw two sapphire gemstones. The jewels themselves were shaped to look like miniature blades. The angles cut into the gem dispersed the sunlight into a beautiful rainbow array.

There was no time to use the power stored in these gems in a spell, Shirou would re-engage in a moment. She would have to settle for an uncontrolled release of mana. Such a technique was powerful but undirected. Due to its unpredictability, Rin couldn't be sure whether or not the attack would kill him or just stun him.

Either way, it would give her time to prepare an actual spell, if he could even attack after that. Flinging the two miniature blades forward, Rin sent an activating burst of mana into each. Shirou had already been moving forward and her planned trajectory landed the gems right at his feet.

There was a bright flash then a colossal explosion which tore up the ground and sent chunks of dirt and grass in every direction. A piece of turf actually struck her in the face.

Shirou was getting better at projecting gems for her, his last batch hadn't been anywhere near this powerful. A couple years back she had wondered if the boy could project _anything_ if it were technically a weapon. It took an incredible amount of money from her estate, but she managed to get a gem fashioned in the shape of a sword so Shirou could have a good base for projections. He could have altered a normal gemstone but that would both decrease its longevity in the world as well as its overall quality. The fake jewels were decent enough but they were nowhere near the level of the originals. Their capacity was decreased and the spells they released were a little more than a full letter grade worse.

The explosive release of energy boiled the very air and made a large smoky steam cloud that concealed the area around her opponent. Nothing was stirring inside, he must at least be wounded from an attack like that.

"Hmph. If you couldn't survive such an attack then you shouldn't have tried to…fight?" Rin trailed off, all coherent thought sending itself out the hypothetical window. Shirou was completely fine. Smoke and steam were rolling off his shoulders and his face had a touch of soot but he was in pristine condition otherwise.

The orange haired boy wiped his cheek before straightening and rolling one shoulder. There was a strange coat on his shoulders that was heavily burnt and gouged. Just as soon as she had seen it, the coat vanished in an array of golden sparks. He had projected Kiritsugu's coat so quickly? Rin hadn't even seen him speak his aria, he couldn't have grown that proficient with projection.

"You ruined my oven, Tohsaka." Rin winced. When Shirou used her last name like that, she knew she was in trouble. "You're supposed to put the pizza straight the rack, not the pizza _and_ a _plastic_ cutting board!" he shouted, snapping into a stance with his demolished shinai. While he had survived the blast, his weapon certainly hadn't. Cinders smouldered on the end that had blown off, producing swirling smoke. Carelessly, he cast the leftover hilt to the ground before repositioning his hands back in front as if he had never dropped the weapon in the first place. Before Rin's very eyes, an actual sword formed within his hands.

Not a blunt stick designed for friendly duels but an actual sharp, gleaming blade. "You don't plan on hitting me with that, do you?" Rin asked, paling two shades as she considered what might happen if he did.

Shirou nodded ominously. "You disgraced my kitchen, now you must pay."

Rin really would have paid the price too if it hadn't been for something large, fast and blue flying out of nowhere to knock the weapon out of Shirou's hands. Just as fast as it had been removed, Shirou summoned another.

But then that weapon was also blasted away. Expecting this one, Rin traced the projectile back to her saviour. Blue wires in the vague shape of a gun pointed at the deranged boy. Further, in the distance, a girl in pink sprinted towards them.

"Are you two stupid or what?" she shouted, reaching up to pluck hairs from her head. "I'm pretty sure everyone from school heard you two fighting!"

Throwing her hand forward, the two hairs she plucked turned a bright blue. They weaved through the air and wrapped around Shirou's limbs before tightening together and holding him in place.

While he struggled, Illya got closer before trying to speak. "Shirou, calm down. So what if Rin ruined your oven because she was impatient and stupid."

Rin nodded. "Yeah wh- Hey!" Realizing what had just been said, Rin stamped her foot. Just whose side was she on here?

"It doesn't mean you should kill her, doesn't that go against your stupid code or whatever?" she asked, plodding over in front of him. With a hop, she flicked his forehead and glowered up at him while he flexed and struggled against his bindings. Since the base material for Illya's magecraft was just her hair, its overall durability was actually quite low. It would have been much stronger if the medium were steel cabling. Rin had experimented with the girl and found that Engel Note could use any diameter of cable, it just required more mana and had higher upkeep.

Shirou closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. He pulled his body in tight and the wires around him responded accordingly. As he reached the apex of his breath he flexed outward and shattered the strings binding him.

"Shirou!" Illya shouted with frustration spread across her features. "She's going to buy you a new oven!"

Shirou's entire demeanour changed like a light switch. He stood naturally, face split into a bubbling smile with his eyes closed warmly. "In that case, she can live. Knowing Rin, the oven she'll get to replace the broken one will be the best on the market." Without another word, he turned and walked towards his house.

Rin paled, absolutely speechless as she watched the boy stride off carelessly. That was all it took to calm him down? Wait a minute, she was expected to replace that old thing? With something that was the _best on the market_? Rin's fiery gaze landed on the back of Illya's head. Right now the albino was trying to look as small as possible.

"Where am I supposed to get the money to buy a top of the line oven?" Rin shouted hysterically. Shirou would be expecting a multi-thousand-dollar appliance now, all thanks to his sister. Her estate was drained after funding Shirou's jewel project. Since she didn't work, that low amount wasn't moving either. Rin had always wondered if Illya's red eyes were an indication of a demonic background.

Storming up, the Tohsaka grabbed the little devil around the shoulders and lifted her off the ground. "Why would you tell him that? You've only made it worse!" she shouted, shaking the albino back and forth violently.

"It was the only way to calm him down! Besides, if you get him something nice he'll like you more!" Illya tried to bargain. She didn't understand what the Tohsaka had said next, but Rin definitely shouted it loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage.

… … …

… … …

"I'm home!" Shirou shouted into the house. Kiritsugu's voice greeted him from within, likely the dining room. Taiga's voice followed, as did the background noise of the television. Shirou slipped out of his shoes and dropped his schoolbag off as well.

Like Rin, he had finished the homework for the next few weeks in advance. Unless Fuji-nee piled more on top of the already hefty pile, he wouldn't have to worry. School had never been too difficult for him, especially after having to learn such advanced concepts like magecraft so early in his life. He was doing math in his personal magecraft studies that were more complex and convoluted than anything high school could offer. Since Illya never had to study the fundamentals of magecraft, she hadn't learned anything that technical. Kiritsugu had homeschooled her when she was younger but even the old man's education could only go so far.

She was still a bright girl so it didn't take her too long to understand the material. Illya's only fault was in her incredible laziness. She frequently put off doing homework then scrambled to complete it the day before it was due, asking Shirou and Rin for help or to copy their answers. The latter never usually worked considering she was ahead of them in the next year.

Thinking about school, he remembered the book Rin had given him a year ago. He actually forgot to read it with everything going on. In their first year of high school, the two magi had a competition with a friendly wager. Whoever finished the year with higher marks could choose to have something given to them by the loser.

While they were setting up the bet, Rin had stood uncomfortably close to him, staring up with stars in her eyes the entire time. Shirou had no idea what her plan was, but he decided to go along with it if it would make her happy.

At the end of their first year, Rin passed with perfect grades, a solid one-hundred percent across the board. She had shoved the paper in his face while looking so pleased with herself.

Shirou almost regretted showing her his own report card. Like her, he had perfect scores across the board, only one subject differed. The one hundred and one percent in English meant he had beaten her by one entire percent. Since they were in separate class groups, they had different teachers for different courses. Shirou had Fuji-nee for English and she had given him a bonus mark for an especially well-written paper.

Rin had deflated like a balloon. It was like a year-long plan had been destroyed in front of her very eyes. Well, it had. She wouldn't be able to get whatever she had wanted from him, so Shirou could see why she would be upset.

Shirou had never really wanted anything from Rin so in the end, he decided on taking a book he frequently borrowed from her on projection magic. After handing her loss over, they made a similar bet for the current year. Shirou had the feeling Rin was already winning. If he were honest, he was scared of what she was going to ask for.

Thinking about their wager brought a little smile to his face until he remembered the current state of affairs. She had ruined his oven because she couldn't wait for him to get home from his part-time job. Not only had she invaded his kitchen, but she had also ruined one of the most important appliances in one move. He had really wanted to hurt her when he found out.

Illya's words suddenly hit him like a brick. " _...doesn't that go against your stupid code or whatever?_ "

A frown spread across his face. He didn't know of any code he abided by. He just did what he felt was right. If he felt that punishing Tohsaka was right or if he felt that throwing himself in harm's way for one reason or another was the right decision, he would do it. Kiritsugu's training would cross his mind as he did, but that wouldn't be enough to stop him. The old man had taught him that sacrifices were sometimes required to get the best outcome but Shirou secretly refused to believe it. There was always a way to save someone. Failure only meant that he hadn't tried hard enough.

Avalon suddenly brightened within his mind as if it were responding to his thoughts. Sometimes Shirou wondered if the scabbard was actually alive. Whenever he thought of heroes, regret or failure, it seemed to trigger something that made the relic respond.

Shirou slid the door to the dining room open, being greeted by the sight of Kiritsugu trying to watch TV while Fuji-nee watched over his shoulder. He didn't have a measuring tape on hand but there was likely only two inches separating the two.

Raising his eyebrows, the boy looked between the two. "You're here early, Fuji-nee." He was actually about to ask how she had gotten there so quickly but he remembered his little battle with Rin. Those ten extra minutes would have been enough for his teacher to speed home.

"Kiritsugu asked me to come by," she mumbled autonomously, eyes flickering between the man himself and the show playing on TV.

To say it was uncomfortable when Fuji-nee got like this was an understatement. During New Years last year, she had consumed an extraordinary amount of alcohol and tried to kiss the old man at the end of the countdown. She hadn't remembered doing it, but everyone else certainly had.

Shirou wanted to say something to her about the situation but why should he try to control the wishes of others? "What's the occasion?" he decided on asking instead. Shirou settled into his familiar position at the front right side of the table. Kiritsugu and Shirou had both govern up their positions at the head of the table to Illya, who switched around between either side.

Kiritsugu turned from the TV then. "I thought it would be nice to have everyone over again. I've invited the Rin, her mother, Sakura and that new friend of yours, Shinji."

Shirou blank-faced the old man. Why would he invite Shinji? Shirou had been friends with the boy for a good year but even as a friend Shirou could see that the Matou didn't play well with others. "You just wanted to have another big meal."

He laughed suddenly. "Guess I'm easy to read. I've taken the liberty to gather what you'll need." He motioned with his head towards the kitchen.

Something clicked in Shirou's mind. "But Rin ruined the oven on Monday, I won't be able to cook anyth-"

Kiritsugu raised one hand and his son fell silent. "Arrangements have already been made. I've contacted a store in the Shinto area and ordered what they claim to be the best oven money can buy."

Shirou had often wondered where all the money Kiritsugu had come from. But with his history, did he really want to? A month back the old man had brought him to a hidden armoury. A secret place underneath a seemingly normal house in the Shinto area. Weaponry Shirou had never even knew existed lined the walls. Rather than notice all that _was_ there, he had noticed two things that weren't. Two spots in the wall were empty and several cases labelled as high explosives were in a similar state. Shirou had traced a handful of the weapons. With all the components that made up firearms, it was rather taxing. Some of the weapons were conceptual weapons. As in, weapons specially imbued with magic so that they could actualize a concept. An example was a crossbow which fired arrows that could destroy weaker magic.

Even with all the information learned from his father's journal, Shirou had no idea what sort of tactics the old man used against other magi. Kiritsugu was inept in magecraft beyond runes but he had easily taken out the majority of competitors in the War. He must have had _some_ tricks up his sleeve.

The father and son exchanged glances. The older of the two offered a wink. There was something else of importance taking place today. Unfortunately, the boy had no idea what it might be. "Then i suppose I'll get cooking in a little bit," Shirou decided, rising off his knees. "I'm going to get washed up and change out of my uniform."

"Hey, Shirou!" Taiga called as he turned to leave. When Shirou faced the older woman, she smiled. "How is Neko holding up?" Neko, also known as Otoko Hotaruzuka, was a high school friend of Taiga's. The two had been inseparable before, during and after graduating. After school, Taiga had moved on in search of a teaching career while Neko had decided to take over the bar her father had started just south of Shirou's house. The Copenhagen wasn't a very popular place but it had its regular customers. Shirou had started working a part-time job there halfway through last year after Taiga recommended it. Kiritsugu had pointed out that they didn't need the money, but Shirou had made a rebuttal. The job would give him a schedule to follow which meant additional discipline and structure. Kiritsugu hadn't argued much after that, deciding his son knew what he was getting into.

"Neko is doing well, she told me to tell you to stop by for a visit once in a while." Shirou nodded, scratching the back of his neck. Neko had told him to do that four days ago - he had just forgotten about it until Taiga reminded him.

"That's good, did Illya stay for running club today?" Slowly, Taiga placed both her hands on the table and looked up at the orange-haired boy with a warm smile.

Shirou shook his head. "No, she had made plans to go to Rin's house so she couldn't stay after school. If Rin's been invited for dinner I expect they'll show up around dark.

… … …

"Let's get down to business," Illya began, slamming her hands down on the Rin's bed to make a loud whump. "You and I both know Shirou." She pointed at Rin who held a look of determination. "We both know that he's about as quick as road tar in the middle of winter when it comes to anything about girls."

The Tohsaka nodded strongly, determination turning into an expression of aggravation. "He's absolutely clueless, a big stupid idiot."

"Mh-hm. You'd think with how sharp he is in school that he'd pick up a few signals from you." Illya nodded wisely, standing on the bed and placing one hand under her chin as if this was a topic of grave importance. "We need to figure out something that will get his attention and let him know you're serious."

Illya was trying _very_ hard to keep herself from smiling. If her plan worked, tonight would be entertaining. Kiritsugu had been preparing this dinner two weeks ago and Illya had leapt at the opportunity as soon as she got word. Daddy was going to gather all Shirou's friends so he could make another fabulous meal. The first week, Illya had visited Sakura's house and told her almost the exact same thing she was telling Rin. With some less-than-subtle hinting, Illya suggested a makeover and entire personality shift. She had spent the entire evening trying to get Sakura to be more forward and direct and it had worked, albeit only slightly. The girl was very persistent on staying locked inside her shell.

Rin would be much easier to manipulate. She trusted Illya and was more suggestable. Due to their time training together, Illya had gotten close to Rin like a sister. They both enjoyed learning new magecraft and they both liked training alongside Shirou. Over time, Illya had watched Sakura and Rin, carefully concocting a plan that was years in the making. Rin and Sakura seemed to be willing to put aside their inhibitions when it came to Shirou. The two were chasing Shirou like dogs and cars. Illya had tested the two and determined that they were entirely willing to forgo decency if that was what it came down to. Illya gossiped with them individually and found the two were trying and failing to hide the fact they were head over heels.

Tonight her master plan would come together and Shirou would be put in his most embarrassing situation yet. She wouldn't be surprised if the girls tried to kill each other after discovering they were both looking for the same thing. Sakura could see Rin's attraction, but Rin was blind to Sakura just like Shirou himself.

"What if I just tell him in private?" Rin asked with a shrug. It was the most sensible option of course, but Illya wasn't looking for sensible. She was trying to make Rin do something outrageous, something funny.

Illya shook her head hysterically. Alabaster hair flung wildly in every direction, inadvertently hitting the other girl in the face. "No, no, no that won't work at all. Shirou is so thick he'd probably still be unclear."

Rin hummed, taking a downcast expression. "You're right, he's pretty slow. This all happened because he ruined my plans last year."

Illya shook her head again. "That wouldn't have worked either. If you _had_ won and asked him for a kiss like you planned, he wouldn't have understood why. He would have thought you were crazy." Illya suddenly stood and moved off Rin's bed. She stepped over towards the wardrobe and threw open the doors casually to look within.

"You think?" Rin seemed unsure, this was perfect for Illya's plans.

"Absolutely. I think what you're going to need is a makeover. Shirou's only ever seen you with twintails, what if you just let your hair down naturally? I don't think I've ever seen you let it loose and neither has he." Illya pulled out pieces of clothing, looking them over before deciding whether they were good or not.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Rin asked, her defensive nature peeking through. One hand reached up to grab a fabric hair tie, feeling it out with her delicate fingers.

Illya snorted, keeping her back to the younger magus. "Well, you're not a little girl anymore. It's cute and easy, but sometimes changing things up is for the best." Illya had made a pile of clothes she liked and clothes that weren't going to cut it. Rin began to speak a syllable but Illya quickly interjected. "Have you forgotten the entire point is to surprise Shirou and make him fawn over you from the first glance?"

The reminder seemed to placate her for now. Illya stopped and blinked several times upon encountering a risque two-piece red bikini. "Do you own anything that isn't red? At least you're prepared for when you ask Shirou to go to the beach," Illya mumbled, tossing the article to the discard pile. There were only two more pieces left to go through.

"I like red," Rin stated with a hushed, embarrassed tone. "I don't judge you on all your pink outfits!" the magus suddenly snapped back. Illya took a second to look down at herself. From her wrists to her hips she was clad in a soft velour blouse. Flowing from the hips was a modest white skirt that went below the knees. To tie the outfit together she wore pink flats with cute white bows.

Whipping around with the ferocity of a wild animal, Illya pointed accusingly towards the younger magus. "There's nothing wrong with pink! I'll have you know Shirou likes the colour pink," the homunculus stated defiantly. The diminutive girl stood as tall as she could, lifting her chin and crossing her arms to achieve a pompous stance. "I've gotten several compliments about my choice in wardrobe. I haven't heard Shirou or any of the boys from your class call you cute before."

Rin's face changed to take on the appearance of a ripe tomato. "I-I don't want him to a-anyway," she stammered out, looking to the side to try concealing her face.

"Liar, liar, you're blushing just from thinking about it!" Illya giggled. She deepened her voice and tried to imitate her brother. "Oh Rin, I can't believe how beautiful you look tonight, you're the cutest girl I've ever seen!"

The younger magus tried to curl up into herself, hands clenching at her lap uncomfortably. The entire sight served only to make Illya laugh harder. "If you tell anyone I'll kill you," Rin managed to get out, obviously trying to make her mind leave her body.

"Even if you could, which you can't, I wouldn't tell anyone anyway." Illya's laughter settled down and she returned to sorting clothes. Now she was going through the pile of possible outfits a second time to weed out some of the lesser options.

There was a long period of silence as Illya sorted through the heap of clothes. The once large pile was now just a few outfits, one of which was her usual outfit of a long-sleeve red shirt and black skirt. It wasn't the most complex but it was certainly effective for attracting a man's gaze. One of the outfits really caught Illya's eyes.

The main material of the dress was satin. Black strips made up most of its creation, with stripes of red breaking up the monotony. A waterfall hem continued the striped design with slits cut into the material to give the outfit a water-like flow. Translucent silk made up the upper portion of the dress. This silk trailed from the bust to the neck and down to each fingertip. It was a one-piece dress and it looked _expensive_ and difficult as sin to get into. To tie the outfit together, gleaming white pearls in a cross design sat just at the base of the neck.

"This," Illya gawked, eyes sparkling as she took the article in. "I can guarantee that if you wear this, Shirou won't be able to take his eyes off you. I know I won't," Illya mumbled the last part, skipping back to Rin and thrusting the dress onto her lap. "And wear your good black stockings with the garter. This dress is going to show a lot of leg which is good real-estate we can use!" Illya suggested, smiling like the fiend she was. Rin hadn't recovered fully from the last embarrassing moment and Illya's words didn't help any.

Illya began putting the clothes she had taken out back in the wardrobe, her smile continually growing along her face. Dinner was going to be very eventful. Even though Illya was doing all this solely for her amusement, she actually hoped that Shirou would make a decision about the two girls once and for all.

At the same time, she felt disappointed and slightly jealous. Illya loved Shirou as a brother, but could she love him more than that?

What was she thinking, she was his sister! Even if they weren't technically related, they couldn't have a relationship like that - could they? She had run into him walking out of the bathroom an unhealthy number of times recently, she would be lying to herself if she tried to pass those off as accidents.

Rin examined the dress Illya had picked out for her, face as bright as the devil child's eyes. The homunculus, with her back towards the Tohsaka, bit her lip in frustration. Illya couldn't be blamed, it wasn't her fault that the boys in her age range weren't as built or as toned as Shirou.

Oh no.

Illya froze like a statue, breath hanging in her throat. She had just admitted to herself that she had been looking at her brother in _that_ sort of way. Groaning, Illya tried to purge the thoughts streaming around her mind.

… … …

… … …

The stove had arrived within the hour as Kiritsugu had predicted. While the old man settled up the replacement with the moving men, Shirou stopped by the bathroom to clean himself up. He peered into the mirror, prodding at his face and looking into his own features.

Since he had started projecting Avalon and other weapons years ago, minute changes had been spreading through his body. The most notable were alterations in his physique. Muscle was much easier to gain and definitely harder to lose. At first, he had assumed it to be all the training Kiritsugu was putting him through, but he was definitely older in appearance and more developed than any sixteen-year-old ought to be. A defined jawline and abdominal section with toned muscles that ran from wrist to ankle. His skin held a healthy light tan. In the last year, he had even grown taller than his father to a decent five foot ten and his body seemed far from stopping.

Shirou complained about his physique nearly every day, at least in his mind. Rin, Illya, Sakura, Mitsuzuri, Makidera, Himuro, Saegusa and so many of the other girls at school eyed him like a piece of meat. Unfortunately, he had nobody to blame but himself. He had made the unfortunate decision to take off his shirt to try cooling off while he was fixing a broken air ventilation unit at the school. After the first few girls made comments and whistles, the shirt replaced itself as quickly as it could be found and the ventilation system was repaired with just as much speed.

The very next day, girls from classes above and below him came by with things for him to fix. Watches, alarm clocks, hair dryers and even binder rings that wouldn't close flush against one another. He was being called all over the school for such arbitrary things that Issei Ryoudou, a recent friend like Shinji, had to step in and act as Shirou's screening system. He would handle repair requests and only allow legitimate claims through to Shirou in an attempt at reducing strain on the boy. The only person this screening didn't apply to was Rin. Issei didn't want to confront her and she seemed to only bring in genuine cases. She typically brought items her mother had damaged or broken like heaters, clocks and other electrical equipment that was too complex for the magus to handle herself.

This wasn't all Rin had done to interfere in his life. She frequently sought him out to have lunch on the roof, claiming to have important business to discuss. She always conned him out of a better lunch by offering to trade half of hers for half of his while quoting a passage from a _Magical Fundamentals_ book.

" _Equivalent exchange must be held in the highest regard. An eye for an eye, gold for gold, Od for magecraft._ " She always donned a wise expression and spoke with such regality as if it were gospel. Shirou just abided by her strange demands so she wouldn't get upset with him. Shirou wanted to point out that since his lunches were much better than hers, it wasn't really equal - but he didn't have the nerve to call out the fact.

The frequent visits and lunches had gotten the two sucked into an unfortunate pairing as the "Queen and Peasant" of Homurahara. It was embarrassing to say the least. When that name had first spread around the academy, Shirou had to face a fuming Sakura back home. Apparently, word travelled fast in Fuyuki. Under threat of being banned from his own kitchen for life, Shirou had to swear that he was just friends with Rin.

Shirou leaned into the mirror further, looking into his eyes before reaching up and pulling apart his hair to see the roots. Just as he thought, gray. This had been another change that happened after he began projection magecraft. It wasn't as noticeable as his physical changes but it was certainly concerning. Was he losing his hair or was it simply changing colour had been the almighty question. If it was the former, it might have just been natural. He had heard tales of young men losing all their hair in their early twenties.

If his hair was changing colour, he had to consider the possibility that his magecraft or something else he was doing was the source. Rin had been the first to notice his changing hair, but she hadn't noticed his eyes. They appeared their familiar golden brown but there were little scratches of gray that altered the pigment just a touch. Shirou had been able to see it only because he knew what to look for.

At least he felt good. So long as he was feeling alright he didn't care about any appearance changes. Peeking out the door of the bathroom, Shirou verified that his left and right were clear before moving into the hall. He paused to flip the sign hanging off the bathroom door to "open" and then retreated to his room.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he threw down the towel and pulled out fresh clothes to dress with. If _everyone_ was coming for dinner it would be a show of good manners to dress himself up a tad. Rather than slipping on a basic pair of trousers and a two-tone shirt, Shirou reached in his clothes drawer to pull out a pair of neatly folded black pants, a white t-shirt and a green dress shirt. Slipping on fresh clothes, he fixed his collar through touch alone while he scanned his room briefly.

His eyes locked onto a familiar scabbard in the corner. Even tucked away and barely visible behind his wardrobe, the radiant sight of Avalon couldn't be mistaken. Shirou gently moved to and retrieved the artifact, flipping it over in his hands. He had been testing the longevity of his projections for some time now. After discovering the appropriate words for his tracing magecraft he had made colossal leaps in progress.

Avalon was an artifact of the Fae, meaning there was only - and would only - be one in existence. Because of this exclusivity, Gaia tore projections of it down with a vengeance. This copy had lasted three entire days and was just beginning to show signs of degradation. A noticeable chip had been taken off the top and it seemed duller than usual. With a sigh, Shirou dematerialized the scabbard and felt a load lift from his body. It took a surprising amount of mana to pay for the upkeep of the artifact. With each projection, the cost to preserve its state was decreased. He was nearing the point where maintaining the his natural mana regeneration was covering the upkeep cost of the scabbard.

Trailing onto his other experiments, Shirou lifted a copy of Taiga's old shinai. The entire surface of the weapon radiated a malice he had never seen before. It was almost ironic to see a weapon designed to never draw blood thirst for it. Once Shirou had perfected his method of tracing, Shirou began testing the limits of their duration. This had been his first experiment using a common item. Even four years later it showed no signs of degradation. It was indiscernible from the real shinai. Returning the weapon to its hidden place, Shirou checked the clock near his futon.

It was quarter-to-five which meant he had a little over an hour to prepare food for the guests. Cracking his knuckles and stretching, he decided to face the music.

… … …

Shirou had been in the middle of prep work for dinner when the doorbell first rang. Curious as to who it might be, but also aware of how busy he would be if interruptions continued, Shirou raced to the front door.

He stopped just short and casually slid it open. With closed eyes, he offered a large smile in greeting to whoe-

His body tensed and every muscle snapped alert as a body slammed into him at full force. Instinctively, one foot slid back to keep himself from falling over. There were arms wrapped around his neck and a head was buried in his shoulder.

Opening his eyes, violet hair took up the majority of his vision. "Sakura?" he asked, awkwardly lifting a hand to sit on the top of her head. Based off how warm his cheeks were, he probably looked like an embarrassment. "Did you trip again?"

The girl gently pulled herself away from him, staring deep into his eyes. The blush on her face coupled with the light shaking through her arms told Shirou she was practically forcing herself to do this. "I've missed you, Senpai."

Shirou couldn't speak. Who greeted someone like this? Was Sakura sick? Why did every woman in his life have to be some form of crazy? Not only had the girl decided to change up her greeting, she also changed her outfit. A white flowing sundress with a simple black belt cinched tight around her waist. It was simple but effective in the sense that it conveyed her innocence and purity. If only that were true, Shirou knew what she was going through back home.

Trying his best to smile and break the awkwardness, he gently took her arms and pulled them off his neck. "Well, I've certainly missed you." In an instant, the bright violet eyes of his younger friend seemed to explode. The shade on her face darkened, her body tightened and she looked as if she was about to jump straight through the roof. "... Because I've been in the kitchen since I got home. I could really use an extra pair of hands to get everything ready."

He offered a comforting smile while she deflated near-instantly. "Idiot-Senpai," she murmured under her breath.

… … …

With Sakura in the kitchen, things were much more manageable. Shirou usually made enough food for seven. In their rather small kitchen, that was full capacity. Nine could be done, but it would take some planning. While Sakura finished prepping, Shirou ran a culinary-triage on the foodstuff. He sorted items by what would need to be cooked, what wouldn't and then divided those groups between the two of them. Having a look at all the supplies, Kiritsugu had gone all out in both quality and quantity.

The new oven was the most beautiful thing Shirou had ever seen. It stood out from the dated, well-used appliances in the kitchen but that hardly mattered. Stainless steel and glass with an induction cooktop and two separated cooking compartments. He couldn't waste very much time testing every feature, but he was still excited to cook with his shiny new oven.

Even though the kitchen wasn't large, Sakura and Shirou had no problems moving around each other to get things done. They seemed to glide around the kitchen seamlessly without even communicating what it was they were doing. All of their accumulated experience in the kitchen together allowed such a feat.

Before Shirou even realized, five-thirty rolled around and guests began arriving. This time, Shirou really was too busy to answer the door so Taiga handled it all. Kiritsugu seemed thankful; for a while now, the girl had been leaning against him while they watched the news.

Both Shirou _and_ Kiritsugu knew the young teacher had a crush on the old man. Kiritsugu had realized it when Taiga was much younger but Shirou had learned it from the old man's journal. His thoughts revealed that he was trying his best to avoid the matter entirely through ignorance. He didn't want to break her heart by turning her down but he didn't want to encourage her by responding either.

For a man who killed ruthlessly, he had a good heart.

Shirou lost his concentration, grazing along Sakura who made a noise as she prepared the rice cooker. "Sorry," he chuckled, returning to the task at hand.

… … …

"Whose idea was it to walk to your house in a paper-thin dress?" Rin clutched onto her arms, rubbing gently to try and generate some warmth. It was frigid tonight. Not only was it colder than usual, a wind had sprouted up out of nowhere to make it all that much worse.

"Neither of us can drive, it's a short walk, we wanted to arrive before your mother and walking is good for you," Illya shot back all at once, seemingly fine in the inhospitable climate. "It's not even cold, just deal with it."

"You're not wearing a paper thin dress with only four inches of skirting in the front!" Rin snapped back, finding warmth from the anger that stirred within.

"Temporary pain for permanent gain," Illya recited. Up ahead, Rin could see the stone walls surrounding the Emiya estate and a sudden spring of uneasiness stirred within her. Not knowing how Shirou would respond was affecting her more than she would care to admit. Sucking in a breath of icy air, Rin forced the uneasiness down and replaced it with artificial confidence.

"Sakura doesn't have a chance." The magus whispered to herself, smirking at the thought of beating her si- rival. Rin knew Shirou wasn't a very dominant man. If he was, he didn't show it at all. Sakura's submissive appeal would be lost on him - hopefully.

Shirou needed someone strong to guide him and Rin could be that someone. Without a guide, he'd get lost and probably do something stupid he would regret. Assuring victory in her own mind, Rin walked with a little more purpose.

The two girls eventually reached the front door of the house and Ilya let herself in. "We've arrived!" Illya announced, slipping out of both shoes in one fluid skipping motion. The albino seemed to forget about Rin as she strode confidently through the hall with a little sashay of the hips.

For whatever reason, she had decided to dress up alongside Rin. She argued that it would be improper to show up without dressing up just a tad. Illya had borrowed Rin's home phone and within an hour, a man in a professional looking suit delivered an outfit to the house. How Illya had connections to a tailor and how he could have outfits made to order within an hour had Rin puzzled.

The outfit Illya had was something ripped straight from a girly cartoon. The entire outfit actually hurt to look at on account of how bright it was. Starting from the top, two ivory feathers with pink tips adorned her hair. They were more accents than actual articles for styling. Around her neck was a fluffy white collar that accented her smooth, pale skin. From the base of the neck down was a one-piece vest-skirt. Lines running up and down where strips of material were sewn together actually broke the monotony of the piece and seemed to add to it. Her shoulders were bare, but she wore pink sleeves on each arm which lead just beyond her elbow before terminating in leaf-like points. Forearm length gloves slipped overtop although these were in white. From the back of each side of her hips were long draping sections, descending to about ankle level. No matter what, they always seemed to magically stay just inches off the ground. Two sections came towards the front as well but they were much shorter in length. It almost made her look like a blooming flower.

There were three layers to her skirting. The outermost was the one which held the extended pieces. Just beneath that was a flowing chiffon section of a lighter pink. The final bottom layer of her skirt was a dark red colour and was much stiffer as it refused to flow gracefully like the other two layers. The ends of this skirt were cut. Since the skirt ended just below her hips, it was likely done this way as a sort of modesty protection while simultaneously accenting the outfit. Rather than continue with the main theme of bright pink, she wore thigh-high boots in the same deep red as her skirt.

Rin had almost been jealous. She had bought her own dress after being conned into it by a saleswoman at the mall. She wasn't disappointed so far but it was nowhere near as cute as Illya's obviously custom-made ensemble.

There was light laughter from the dining room along with ambient kitchen noises. Clattering of cutlery and pots, utensils being set down and even the sizzle of a hot pan.

Halfway down the hall, Rin's nose was bombarded by a wave of scents that made her mouth water. Shirou had _really_ gone out of his way this time. But how was he cooking without an oven?

Illya must have entered the dining room because a wave of gasps and voices suddenly came all at once. Rin bit the edge of her lip with a canine. She didn't need everyone to compliment her, she only needed one person to truly appreciate the effort she had taken. Turning the corner in the hall, Rin could see the open door to the dining room.

"Where did you find an outfit like that, sweetheart?" came the voice of Kiritsugu. He seemed happy in knowing that his daughter was enjoying herself.

"I've had it for a while but I've never had an event to wear it to." Rin could see Illya in mid-spin from this angle. After a full rotation, she stopped and made a clichéd pose with a peace sign on her forehead and one leg raised up to her thigh.

As Illya finished her performance, Rin stepped into the doorway and the room fell quiet. Rin made a quick count, surprised to only see two other people in the room beside Illya and herself. Kiritsugu and Taiga, the two others, seemed pleasantly surprised at least.

"Why did everyone go quiet, what happe-" came a voice from the right. Shirou had stepped into the dining area while wiping his hands with a towel. His eyes roamed over Rin and he had to do a double take to ensure what he had seen was reality. The towel in his hands slid out of his grip to hit the floor.

" _Got him_ ," came a victorious thought. Illya's plan had worked, Rin had shocked Shirou into falling for her. Now would be her chance to seal his destiny. All she had to do was wait for him to say something, then she could express how her dress had been planned specifically for him. It would guilt him into accepting whatever conditions she set after. What made this situation better was that Sakura was nowhere to be found, Rin was clean and clear!

"R-Rin?" he managed to stammer out. Impolitely, he gave her another look up and down before locking onto her eyes. His cheeks turned a bright red, likely the same shade staining her own face. "You look…" He couldn't find the words, he was smitten! Everything was going perfect.

Then Sakura stormed out of the kitchen.

… … …

Shirou legitimately couldn't pull his eyes from Rin. It was like someone had changed the channel and the only thing in his mind was static. Had she enchanted that dress in some way to cause this? Rin had always been a good-looking girl but wearing a dress like this could actually kill normal men. She was like another person entirely with her hair let down. He could honestly say that he preferred it this way. He had wanted to compliment her, but each time his brain tried to figure out what he needed to say, his mouth refused to co-operate and the static washed away the thought.

Then Sakura moved in front of him and rational thought returned. "Rin, Senpai needs to focus on preparing dinner, you can't distract him." The girl shook her head defiantly, acting as a barrier to shield Shirou's eyes.

This wouldn't end well. Looking to his side, Shirou tried to search for help. Taiga seemed worried, rightly so. Illya was watching the two girls with blatant amusement and Kiritsugu offered his son a warm smile that spoke volumes. His face expressed good luck while simultaneously saying: "You're screwed".

He couldn't see Rin, but he imagined she had assumed a position of defiance with her hands on her hips. "If Shirou can't keep his eyes off me it just means that he's interested." Kiritsugu snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. He turned and whispered something to Illya, who nodded enthusiastically. The old man had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Illya had planned all of this, hadn't she?

Sakura's body stiffened and her arms shot down at her sides. "Senpai can't help himself if distractions are forced into his face!"

"I only walked in, I'm not forcing him to do anything," Rin argued. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin to look down condescendingly at her rival. Shirou in the meanwhile slinked off silently back to the kitchen. At least they wouldn't be able to fight and blow up the house with Taiga here.

Shirou did his best to drown the two women out while he focused on picking up all the slack Sakura being away had made. There was definitely shouting and based off Illya's and Taiga's expressions, the two were starting to get physical. Shirou did his best to stay out of it. Obviously, his involvement caused more harm than good. Looking up for a brief moment, he saw Sakura and Rin pushing one another with their hands locked. Since Rin was stronger, she was easily holding the younger girl back. Just as Shirou was about to speak up, the doorbell rang and everyone paused.

"Saved by the bell," Kiritsugu commented dryly. "Sakura, if you wouldn't mind could you please go see who that is?" The man continued smiling warmly as he tried to hold back his laughter at the show. He briefly leaned over to Illya and whispered something. It must have been a joke because she burst out giggling.

Begrudgingly, Sakura released Rin and stormed past her into the hall. Without resistance, Rin sat down beside Shirou's usual spot. Illya quickly reached over the table and nudged Rin in the side. Believing that her brother wasn't watching, she motioned for Rin to move closer to Shirou's spot.

Shirou had always known Illya was a demon as soon as he'd seen those bright red eyes. She was going to be the death of him, and it would be due to two warring magi fighting over a spot as his girlfriend.

Sakura returned a few seconds later and her brother casually followed. He was wearing a black shirt covered by a white blazer with blue jeans. Scanning the room, he offered a casual wave to those present. He seemed to be handling Rin's appearance much better than Shirou, looking her over a few "Haven't seen you so dressed up, Tohsaka. It's a good look." A cocky smile was splayed across his face while he took a seat diagonally across from Rin, next to Taiga. Like a predator searching for prey, he panned the table slowly until he stopped at Illya. "I never knew your sister was some sort of a magical girl, Shirou." The blue-haired boy leaned back from the table, looking said girl over at least three times. "It's a shame she's not a little older."

Illya blinked, Kiritsugu scowled. Nobody had liked that comment. "I'm nineteen," Illya levelled, falling directly into Shinji's trap. Immediately, the Matou leaned forward into the table and offered a disgustingly hungry look.

"Really now? I haven't seen you at the Academy."

"That's because I'm two years higher than you and I've done my best to avoid you after hearing all sorts of rumours." Illya settled back in her seat, crossing her arms ominously as the air of royalty began to ooze from her entire being.

As far as Shirou knew, Illya had two antithetical personalities. One was her usual self: the optimistic, caring girl that idealized happiness to the extreme. The other was a true royal-blooded princess. Confident, condescending and cold above all else. She typically used the latter whenever she was dealt with people she didn't like, or when someone told her to be mature.

Quietly, Shirou continued listening to his guests while trying to finish up the last of his dishes. After this one, he could take a break while everything cooked.

"Rumours? Which ones? That I'm the good looking guy all the girls fall for?" He placed one hand on his chest, closing his eyes to smile confidently.

Illya smiled herself. Shirou felt a pit growing in his stomach. "The one that you're a giant pervert who peeks on girls changing and that you're an overly confident jerk who can't handle rejection." Rin snorted, covering her mouth to hide her amusement.

Shinji flinched like he had been stabbed. His face turned a daring shade of red and his smile twisted into a heartless scowl. "What did you say you litt-" He stopped abruptly as a hand swatted the side of his head. Shirou had practically teleported from the kitchen behind Shinji to stop him before he could say something he would regret.

Kiritsugu himself had actually made a move to stand. Father and son both looked ready to kill. "Shinji, even though you are a guest in my home you do not have the right to insult my sister. Continuing is going to get you more than just removed." Shirou's voice wasn't angry or full of emotion, it was colder than ice. It seemed to chill the temperature in the room a few degrees. Shirou and Kiritsugu shared a look before the latter settled back down in his seat.

With his eyes alone, the old man marvelled that such a boy could be Shirou's friend. "Didn't you hear what she said about me?" Shinji asked, rubbing the side of his head while he looked from his attacker around the room for sympathy. He wasn't getting any, likely because everyone present understood the rumours to be true - mostly. The blue-haired boy made a noise and grimaced. "I see how it is, I was invited just to be the butt of all your jokes."

He stood abruptly and turned to face Shirou while moving into the other boy's space in the same motion. With one finger, he prodded the taller man in the chest. "From here on out, consider us _enemies_ , Emiya." The threat was rather empty. It was common knowledge that Shirou could wipe the floor with Shinji, literally.

The blue haired boy moved to the doorway, looking back to find Sakura. The girl in question had been in the corner looking at the ground, trying her best to remain unseen. "We're going home," he declared, waiting for her to follow him.

Sakura looked up at her brother, then glanced toward Illya who shook her head slightly. Sakura followed her lead. "I'm staying here with Senpai," she defied, holding her own hands at chest level.

Shinji narrowed his eyes and seemed to bore holes into the girl with the gaze alone. He opened his mouth to say something, then glanced back to Shirou who was still scowling with the glare of death. "Tsk, whatever."

There was a long period of silence until Taiga suddenly cleared her throat. "I don't think we should let Shinji's actions ruin the evening, let's just try to have a good time with each other." The teacher paused, then gave Rin a look. "Isn't your mother supposed to be coming?"

Rin nodded. "I guess she's running a bit late, she'll probably be here soon."

Shirou's rigid stance deflated into a more casual position. As the table slowly resumed conversing, he moved to stand in front of Sakura who seemed mentally absent. "Are you alright?" The girl nodded, but her eyes betrayed her true emotions. "Hey - don't worry about him. If he tries anything with you, give me a call and I'll be there, alright?" Shirou offered a comforting smile, taking the initiative to give her a short hug.

He felt the girl twitch at the contact, but she seemed to relax within a few seconds. As he broke the embrace, the familiar voice of his sister came from behind. "I think you're losing now, Rin."

What made Illya's teasing worse was that he couldn't even tease her back. The old man had told him to protect her and beyond that, he didn't want to hurt his sister. As he turned back to take up his rightful place in the kitchen, he shot Illya the same look he had given Shinji. She had been leaning over the table to speak with Rin but after seeing the look from her brother she instinctively snapped back to her own seat and tried to sit as properly as possible. "Big brother is scary when he wants to be." She pouted, setting her hands on her lap with tears in her eyes.

… … …

Aoi arrived a few minutes after that. From what Shirou could gather in the midst of his kitchen endeavours, she was a very solemn, softly-spoken woman with the aura fitting of a mother. When she had first arrived, she appeared disheartened upon seeing both Rin and Sakura. Even though she would have to come face to face with her displaced daughter, Shirou felt this would be good in the long run. If Sakura were to return to the Tohsaka family... Shirou stopped his thoughts for a moment. _If_ Sakura ever returned? That wasn't right. _W_ _hen_ she rejoined the family. Shirou had every intention of helping his father slay that vile worm to free the girl from her bindings. Kiritsugu had to be working on a plan to kill the old Matou. If a way was possible, he would find it and together the two would play it out. Shirou had been meaning to ask the Magus Killer about the situation but he had just been too busy with everything. School, clubs, training, his job, cooking and dealing with two girls that were equal parts crazy and attractive.

Aoi had barely sat down before she joined in the conversation with wise, brief words. The older woman seemed to fit in quite well at the table and her expression turned to one of enjoyment rather quickly. She and Kiritsugu spoke independently and the two seemed to take an interest in one another. Perhaps it was because they were near the same age or that they were both single parents. Now that Shirou thought about it, he hadn't seen the old man enjoy himself this much in a long time. Taiga didn't like the situation one bit if the frustration plastered across her face was any indication. Since she had started speaking to Kiritsugu, the teacher had given the older woman a harsh glare. Either Aoi didn't notice or she chose to ignore it entirely.

Shirou and Sakura eventually started moving dishes out to the table. Even carrying as much as they could, they had to make multiple trips. It seemed like the flow of food would never stop. Once everything was laid out, the entire dining table was packed with items of every type. There was _barely_ enough room for everyone's plates.

"I've never seen so much food in my life!" Taiga commented, first to begin filling her plate as usual.

"It's almost overwhelming," Rin added on, taking her own food with more civility.

"Senpai put in a lot of work," Sakura added, settling herself down in the spot Shinji had occupied earlier, across from Shirou.

"I don't quite know where to start," Aoi laughed, looking towards Kiritsugu for guidance.

"Somewhere and then you keep going!" Illya popped up behind the woman's shoulder, smiling brightly as she stretched to grab specific foods. She was the pickiest of all the eaters present. She preferred sweet food and avoided vegetables like the plague. Secretly, Shirou had been slipping minced vegetables into her sweets to try to balance out her diet.

Shirou settled into place beside Rin with a relaxed sigh. He could only smile as everyone complimented the food and filled their plates. He preferred being the last one, that way everyone else could get as much as they wanted. Shirou was content with picking up whatever was left. If he didn't like each dish he made, he wouldn't have cooked it in the first place.

Not a single person spoke throughout all of dinner. That sounded uncomfortable, but everyone was too focused on savouring the delicious flavours of the food. Usually, his dinner guests made brief comments or light conversation but none of that was happening tonight.

Shirou had to guess that it was the scale and quality of dinner. His meals were typically simple with hidden flavours and nuances that brought the taste buds to life. This extravagant spread used dishes which were already wonderful on their own, even prepared by a novice chef. Combining quality ingredients with a quality chef made each meal a spectacle.

Only when his guests were full and their plates empty did conversation resume. Unfortunately, it gravitated towards they dinner they just enjoyed which meant Shirou would find no end to the embarrassment tonight.

"I see why you want to stay over so often, Rin." Aoi giggled, covering her mouth as her daughter's face changed to match the shade of her dress.

"Once a week is not that often," Rin pouted. She hunched over on herself and crossed her arms to try and hide her embarrassment.

Her mother hummed questioningly. "You ask to stay over ever-" She was silenced as her daughter scrambled to cover her mouth. Aoi didn't move to avoid the act and her mouth was muffled before the full message could get out. Rin looked flustered in a way Shirou had never seen before. He actually began to understand why Illya liked embarrassing others so much.

Kiritsugu chuckled, lifting his coffee cup from its saucer. He glanced towards his own son with a glint in his eyes and Shirou could tell whatever was on his mind would be truly evil. "Shirou always looks forward to the days you girls can stay over." The old man set down his cup and a despicable smile spread across his face. "Unfortunately with my bad memory, I can't remember which girl he got excited over."

Illya chimed in as well and the pit that had begun in Shirou's stomach long ago rose to his throat. "I've heard him whisper one of your names in his sleep too but I couldn't really figure out which one either." Everyone here was working against him, was there a giant target painted on his back he wasn't aware of? Both of these statements were lies, but calling them out wouldn't work. Kiritsugu and Illya would act as the alibi for one another. If he tried to deny either statement, his guilt would be certified, or it would hurt their feelings somehow. Girls were weird like that.

Like a scene out of a movie, Rin and Sakura turned to look at each other with venomous glares before focusing on Shirou. Simultaneously, they asked which one of them he had been thinking of and Shirou could only try to make himself invisible while he finished the last few pieces on his plate.

Taiga placed her index finger against her chin and looked up wistfully. "I think I remember Shirou saying he fell for the girl who's been his close friend since he was young."

"That's me!" the two girls shouted simultaneously before sharing a glance. "You?" they spoke over one another again. This was going to be a long night.

… … …

… … …

Late in the evening, Aoi and Taiga departed after saying their goodbyes. Following the argument over who Shirou liked more, Rin and Sakura had both elected to sleep over. They had tried to watch his face after claiming they would stay the night to discern which of the two he reacted stronger to. Unfortunately for them, he had done his best to maintain a perfect poker face through it all.

Frustrated, the two constantly glanced at one another over the table as the witching hour drew near. They were locked in a war now and only one would come out victorious. Kiritsugu and Illya had beaming smiles on their face as they watched Shirou sink further and further into himself trying to avoid the entire conversation. He felt like a trophy, was that all he was? Something to claim victory over?

Picking Rin or Sakura was like choosing to lose an arm or a leg. He didn't want to admit to one because as a consequence he would lose the other. The best course of action was to just let them fight over one another, at least then he could keep ahold of them both as friends.

If he looked at things logistically, Sakura needed him more than Rin, although Rin was ultimately a better cho- What was he thinking? He wasn't doing this, he was just going to be their friend, nothing more. He wouldn't hurt either of them more than life already had.

… … …

The night was absolute hell for Shirou. Thankfully everyone turned in without having to be separated by force. Around midnight when Shirou stumbled into his room, he was prepared to pass out as soon as he hit the futon.

Shirou threw off his clothes and slipped on a pair of sweatpants. With an exhausted sigh, he settled his lower half under the quilt and stared at the ceiling. Slowly closing his eyes, he stretched out and rested his palms on the cool floor.

" _Trace on_."

As he spoke, a wireframe snapped into his mind. Just as quickly, the wireframe filled in with material to make a small scale copy of the real Emiya home. Using calculations of load, pressure differences and weight distribution, Shirou could see everyone's location in the house. Illya and Kiritsugu were just across the hall in bed, Rin was further down in her own room and Sakura was on the opposite side of the house for safety reasons and because the only other western-style room was on that side. The two girls were still moving around, likely plotting the demise of the other.

Shirou counted every piece of wood that formed the house again, verifying the number hadn't changed. At this point, the action was purely routine. His ability was so accurate he didn't need to test it in this manner. Practice made perfect as they say.

Shirou closed his eyes and tried to slip off into his familiar nightmare. At this point, he had grown so used to revisiting that hell, he hardly lost any sleep at all. It was the state between sleep and being awake that he was relaxed the most. Just as he was about to succumb to deep sleep, a presence near him sent every fibre of his body into red-alert.

Shirou didn't bother to ask how someone had gotten through Kiritsugu's barrier, why or how they managed to invade his room but none of that mattered. Snapping upright, he raised his fists to try and fight off the intruder.

He hadn't expected a high-pitched squeak followed by a thump against the ground. Tracking the source of the sound, Shirou spotted the fallen form of his demonic sister. Relaxing his body and letting out a breath, Shirou levelled a stern glare. "What are you doing in my room?" he asked, watching her stand and rub her behind. After all the trouble she had caused him tonight, she was lucky he hadn't picked her up and thrown her out.

"There were weird noises outside." Even in the darkness, Shirou could see her pout in an attempt at convincing him through cuteness. "I got scared and thought I could come sleep with you."

Shirou blinked wearily. "Why don't you go ask the old man if you're so scared?"

Illya shuffled awkwardly in place. She was only wearing a thin white nightgown that barely reached mid-thigh. If she wasn't older than him, this situation might have been misunderstood as a crime. "Daddy doesn't like when I ask to sleep in his bed." She kneeled beside his bed and inched closer. "I thought you were supposed to protect your little sister?"

Dammit, she was guilt tripping him into letting her have her way - and it was working! Grumbling as he tried to think of a decent response, Shirou reluctantly moved to one side of his futon so his sister could join him. "Only since you're related to me - and just for today."

With his first paycheck, he had bought himself a king-sized futon. Not only had it been on sale, but his old single-width had been in need of replacement. Illya offered a quiet thanks before shuffled underneath the large white quilt.

Turning so he faced away from her, Shirou got comfortable and closed his eyes to try sleeping again. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Illya," he began. "What kind of noises were outside?"

There was a shifting noise as she settled into a good spot before she spoke. "It sounded like breathing and footsteps. I heard them outside but then there was a creak in the house and I came here right after."

Shirou rolled to face Illya. He scrunched up his face in confusion. "Footsteps?"

Then a shout from the opposite room brought them both to sit upright. By sound alone, they could tell it was Kiritsugu from his room across the hall. The sound of shattering glass followed and cut through the house. Shirou snapped up to stand, already running to the door before Illya had even begun to move. Whoever had managed to get into Kiritsugu's room was a professional. They had managed to go right through his bounded field and sneak around the house without anybody besides Illya hearing.

A half-naked Shirou stormed through two doors while projecting a blade in his hands. As the boy was raising his weapon into a practiced stance, he was forced to block an incoming blow with the flat of his blade. The strike was so fast he almost hadn't caught it in time and the force was on an entirely different level. The glove-clad fist impacted and completely shattered the projected sword like it was a dandelion puff in a gale-force wind. Shirou's eyes widened in pure shock while the fist carried on into his chest. Feeling his entire chest collapse, he was flung backwards like a ragdoll.

Shirou landed on his back and slid along the ground uncomfortably. Since the doorway to his room was staggered a few feet from Kiritsugu's, he had blown through the wall and spewed splinters throughout his own room. Illya's surprised voice called out his name although it barely reached his ears as searing pain coursed through his entire body. Avalon had kept his lungs from totally collapsing but hadn't done much more than that. Shirou had neglected to reinforce his body and had almost paid the price for such a slight mistake.

This intruder was obviously a woman if her face was anything to go off of. She wore a neat, trimmed business suit in burgundy with a matching tie. Even her hair and eyes matched the shade of her suit. The only thing setting the outfit apart was the white dress shirt beneath the suit jacket and a pair of silver teardrop earrings.

She had sharp, angular features and was of obvious western descent. Thin lips and eyebrows set in concentration. It was the face of a professional contract killer. This woman was dangerous, she had dealt with Kiritsugu before he could even act and had almost killed Shirou in one punch. Blood gurgled into his throat and mouth as his lacerated lungs began bleeding profusely. It was like he was trying to breathe halfway underwater. Each breath agitated the liquid running through his respiratory system and made him want to cough violently.

A warming feeling suddenly spread through his body, starting at his core. Illya's hands were there, healing his pulverized ribcage. Breathing returned to him and grew easier with each passing second. "You idiot, you almost got yourself killed," she sniffled.

Looking at her face, Shirou could see a tear running down her cheek. Was that because of him? "Illya," he croaked, pain and pressure in his chest halting his voice momentarily. "Get out of here and go get Rin, I'll be fine," was what he said. He really just wanted her to leave. Rin was smart, she would decide the best action would be to flee and she'd force Illya to leave with her. Shirou would die trying to protect their retreat but that suited him just fine. He would do his best to provide them with as much time as they needed until he was sure they were safe.

Struggling to his feet, he found the strange woman standing in the doorway ominously. Odd, usually combatants took every advantage they could, was she pitying them? Or was she just playing with them before she really put in effort to kill them all? "If I leave you'll-"

"Get out of here!" Shirou shouted angrily, clenching his hands to fists as he faced the suit-clad woman. His sister twitched before motioning with her hands and murmuring a spell. The wall to Shirou's right liquified and dripped onto the floor. A hole appeared large enough for her to leap through to go find Rin. The suit-clad intruder hardly seemed to notice, eyes focused solely on the opponent that was going to put up a fight. Unceremoniously, Shirou cleared his throat and spat a glob of mucus and blood onto the floor. His eyes wandered behind the intruder to land of Kiritsugu's downed form. He was crumpled and limp in the corner. A large red patch of blood stained his front and dripped onto the floor. " _Trace on_."

It didn't take much more than a cursory glance to tell that the old man's organs had stopped. This assassin had killed him before he could even put up a good fight. Cursing himself, Shirou focused his tracing on his opponent. He could grieve after removing the threat, or after he died. She was a magus of about twenty-one years old. Exactly one hundred twenty-eight point five-five pounds and five point six-four feet tall.

Her entire outfit was laden with detailed magical runes. Comparing her suit to Kiritsugu's coat would be like comparing the Mona Lisa to a child's colouring book. He could trace his father's cloak, but if what happened to his hastily projected sword was any indication, imperfect creations were useless. He would need to go through his full aria before even attempting to project something to use. Shirou wouldn't say he was outclassed, he was never outclassed with a skillset like his, he just needed time. He already had a plan.

" _Judging the concept of creation_." While speaking the first line of his aria, Shirou filled the porous space of his muscles and bones with mana. Reinforcement was definitely something that he could do in the meantime. Now, he could receive and deliver blows without the risk of death from the first blow.

The two snapped forward to meet in the middle. Shirou elected to play defence, he had moved forward to keep his back away from the wall, being trapped would spell certain death. He needed to learn this woman's technique in a few seconds and then try to break it down to better defend himself. After blocking and redirecting three attacks, a space where he _would_ have made a move of his own came up, a gap in her defence. Since he restrained himself, he had been able to catch the unexpected strike brought on by her knee. Setting his jaw in preparation, Shirou crossed his arms and forced them out to meet the blow head-on.

He rapidly came to the realization that her punches had been _nothing_ compared to her kicks. The power behind her legs was at least double that of her arms. Unable to direct the force anywhere, he was forced to slide backwards on his bare feet all the way to the back wall of his room. A pins-and-needles type pain shot through both his forearms. The force behind that blow had actually disturbed and unwound the reinforcement in the area. Thankfully, it didn't take much more than a half second to restore the magecraft to its undamaged state. " _Hypothesizing the basic structure, duplicating the composition material_." Shirou had nothing he could use, he just needed to focus on completing his aria. After that, he could enact his plan. Raising both arms to shield his face, he stopped a flying kick from taking his head clean off his shoulders. Even reinforced, the bones in each forearm cracked with a disgusting noise.

The force sent him backwards further, out the exterior wall into the sloped front yard where he rolled backwards once before popping up onto his feet. " _Imitating the skill of its making, sympathizing with the experience of its growth, reproducing the accumulated years_ ," he murmured under his breath, sucking in lungfuls of the cool night air. Shooting pain was coursing up his arms and into his shoulders. Blocking any more attacks like that would break his arms. Only one more line to speak, then the image in his mind would be perfected. Shirou lowered his arms to spot the suit-clad woman staring down at him.

When the father-killer leapt from the hole in the wall, Shirou leapt to one side and ran around the side of the house. He needed a flat open area before he could even out the fight. Trying to fight the high ground probably wouldn't end well. Reaching the backyard, Shirou barely turned around before he had to catch a fist aimed for his kidneys. Holding onto her gloved hand, information flooded his mind. The exact construction, the imbued magecraft and her entire martial arts style became as well known to him as breathing. Tracing through sight took a lot more effort and wasn't as defined as tracing through touch.

Gray smoke and the scent of burning flesh wafted from the hand that had caught her glove and the two shared a look of mutual surprise. Neither had expected him to stop her fist. " _Excelling every manufacturing process_ ," he spoke directly into her face and golden sparks spewed from his body as the images in his mind worked to become reality.

Out of fear, the assassin leapt back from the sparking boy. In a second when the odd display ceased, there were two people wearing identical suits, in identical stances. The only difference between them was the colour of their hair and the expression on their faces.

The leather covering Shirou's gloves squeaked in anticipation. Just because he knew her martial arts style now didn't mean he really knew what was coming, it just meant he knew what she was capable of. She had a vast array of opening attacks which lead into combination moves that all changed fluidly depending on the situation. Trying to guess which attack she would lead with while simultaneously moving to counter was a wild guess with a slim chance of success.

Judging by the quality of the traced outfit alone, this woman was an incredible magus. She was twice as powerful as Rin or Illya and she clearly focused all of her ability in combat-worthy magecraft. The girls wouldn't stand a chance against her; Shirou was proud of his decision to let them retreat.

The woman snapped forward and Shirou was suddenly forced to counter attacks with twice the ruthless ferocity he had grown used to. The outfit he had copied thankfully matched his speed to the woman, which meant defending himself was significantly easier than it had been before. But just because he could move to intercept her blows now didn't make blocking them any easier. Each blow he defended sent a rattle through his bones out through his feet. The suit displaced the incoming energy much like Kiritsugu's coat so the attacks no longer threatened to shatter his bones.

Ten whole seconds of sustained hand-to-hand followed. The two used identical motions with similar footwork, giving the battle a sense of fluidity. The two slowly rotated around one another until their positions had been swapped. Even with all the grunts and expelled breath, nothing had been gained by either party. The two separated and the assassin paused as if evaluating the situation. Shirou tried deciphering something, _anything_ from her eyes but found an empty wordless void within.

Even with his strength and defence on par with hers, his stamina definitely wasn't. The intruder didn't even seem winded while he was doing his best to take deep, controlled breaths to recover quicker. Shirou was running out of options. He didn't have any combat spells and anything he could project wouldn't work in this situation. She was too skilled in hand-to-hand, if he tried projecting a blade to help him out, she would slip under its range and he would be screwed.

If she was any good at her job, she would have realized he was using her own technique against her. She might have been thinking about how such a thing was even possible or how she could go against her own style to defeat what was essentially herself. She would mix it up, which was fine. She wasn't the only one that could change styles.

Taking the initiative and lunging forward, Shirou threw a feint-jab at her shoulder with his right fist. Moving to guard high, the assassin was unable to reverse the motion to cover her abdomen where Shirou's real strike had been aimed. With a grunt and a release of air, the woman leaned forward to better absorb the impact. Trying his best not to let an advantage escape him, Shirou wrapped his right arm around her neck. With his height and weight advantage working alongside a limit-reaching reinforcement, Shirou easily lifted the woman vertical and upside down before throwing her over his back. The two landed on the ground with a whump. The pained, breathless wheeze of the smaller individual revealed to Shirou that she could be harmed.

Rolling away and easing onto their feet, the two re-evaluated one another again. Shirou felt as if he wasn't even bruising the woman. Her form was absolutely perfect even though she had taken a direct blow to the stomach that would have surely ruptured her organs.

He knew this was a fight he couldn't win, but he had no idea just how badly he'd been outclassed. "Now!" came a shout from behind the assassin. The two combatants were confused and each looked in different directions to find the source of the voice. There was a sound of strain as the woman in the suit found her body constricted by blue wiring. It had been wrapped around her at least ten times and seemed to be doing a good enough job. Shirou began to realize what was going on and he started moving to capitalize on the moment before scrambling backwards as a glint in the night sky caught his eye.

Those were jewels flying through the air. Unlike the gems she had used against him earlier today, these gems were genuine and brilliant purple like Sakura's hair. If Rin had made some plan with gems, she was taking this seriously and was prepared to level the entire yard. Six feet above the suit-clad assassin, the gems exploded and showered her and the area in a fine mist of sparkles that glittered brilliantly in the moonlight.

Then the entire area erupted. Massive purple gems formed from the dust. There were dozens of segments and not a one was smaller than three feet wide. Jarring, inconsistent movements compressed these irregular jewels against their focus point, the pugilist trapped within. Shirou watched her collapse on one knee and crane over as the pressure bore down on her body.

With each compressing movement, crackling and shattering noises pierced the air. The jewels were breaking as they collapsed on the center point; the purpose of this spell wasn't to harm but to hold in place so the next attack could be lined up.

Shirou felt something wrap around his waist before tugging him backwards roughly. Snapping his head around to figure out what was going one, he realized that Illya had wrapped a thread from Storch Ritter around him. The beautiful bird construct flapped its powerful wings to tug him away from the jewel-jailed intruder. Glancing back at his former opponent, Shirou spotted four more sparkling gems flying through the air. The sword-like shapes of these were much more familiar to him.

Almost in slow motion, Shirou watched the sword-gems spin and dance in their path towards the imprisoned woman. When they were only a foot away, the crystalline cell burst in a spray of gem-dust. Still kneeling, Shirou noticed that the suit-clad assassin had managed to break out of Illya's bindings even while trapped by Rin. The sword-gems touched the woman on the back and all at once they exploded violently.

The force of the blast was intense, creating a massive fireball which scorched the surrounding area and blasted Shirou away even though he was already a considerable distance from the epicentre. The force of the explosion coupled with the tugging of Storch Ritter actually slammed his back into the stone wall which circled the perimeter of his home.

Thankfully, Shirou hadn't hit his head, which meant he was still mentally alert, he could still fight. Anger started to burn within him. Rin and Illya hadn't run, they had tried to join the fight. A sudden pit of despair bubbled up within him as thoughts began racing through his mind. That blast had been incredibly powerful, Rin had gone all out on charging those gems. Depending on the result, that could be extremely bad. If her attack hadn't killed the assassin, Rin would be defenceless and she would be the next target. Rin wouldn't have enough mana to cast a diversion spell or anything that could help her escape. After Rin, the assassin would turn to Illya.

Unless the gems had done their job and the intruder had died in the blast. Trying to move forward, Shirou found that Storch Ritter was still pulling him away. With some frustration, he projected a simple knife and tried to cut his bindings, only to find that he couldn't. Every time he ran his blade across the string, the metal of his projection sparked as if it were grinding off.

Illya hadn't used her hair as a medium then, she had put in as much effort as Rin and used steel cabling to form her constructs. It was likely the sole reason why the assassin had been bound long enough for their plan to work. Shirou heard a gasp which brought his attention forward. Standing in the fiery crater was the slouched form of a woman in a suit. One of the sleeves and the entire back section of her suit had been blown off. Surprisingly, the suit didn't burn. The edges of the pieces blown off were not charred, only torn. A line of fresh blood dripped down her face from her forehead and the few drops sizzling on the ground behind her meant her back had taken some abuse as well. If the murderous glare in her eyes was any indication, she was taking things seriously now.

Her eyes were locked onto Shirou but she suddenly looked off to her left. Following the motion himself, Shirou spotted the kneeling form of Rin. She was struggling with the simple task of lifting her arm. Using her other hand to assist and support, she eventually managed. Extending a pointer finger, a black orb of Gandr formed and fired. Due to the shakiness of her limb, the shot went wild and missed by a good meter.

The woman in burgundy clenched both her fists, taking long strides towards the Tohsaka magus. Just as suddenly as she began moving, she turned around to face an oncoming projectile. Illya was using Zelle to fire bullets of compressed magical energy in an attempt at halting the assassin. On anyone else, it might have been effective, but this woman simply reared one fist back and destroyed the projectile with a single punch. Shirou had known the attack would fail from the start. Her gloves were covered in magic-resisting runes. She could quite literally tear mana constructs and spells apart with her own two hands.

The assassin punched two more bullets out of the air before resuming her journey towards the downed Tohsaka mage. Illya obviously determined that she was ineffective. If his sister hadn't tied him up and dragged him away, Shirou might have been able to reach Rin in time to protect her. Searching his mind for something, anything, Shirou found a crossbow which fired arrows that nullified magical projections from Kiritsugu's armoury. Tracing it into his open hand, he casually fired the bolt into the airborne Storch Ritter. With a shrieking cry of metal-on-metal, the bird construct broke apart and the mana weaved around its steel cable construction flickered away.

Without something tugging him away, Shirou sprinted towards Rin in a vain attempt at reaching her before the suit-clad woman. There were about six steps between the Tohsaka and this assassin, and thirty between her and Shirou. There was no way he would reach her in time _but he had to_. If he didn't she would die and it would be _his_ fault. He needed something to distract the assassin, to pull her away from Rin just long enough to make her focus on him. He needed a way to strike from a range, something that could scare her or even overwhelm her. A single thrown sword was just an annoyance; a dozen flying at once might do it.

Something in his mind clicked and the dim glow of Avalon suddenly illuminated his entire mind with radiant gold. Like a blindfold being lifted, everything became clear. If he considered the world as a three-dimensional grid-space of X, Y and Z coordinates, he could project at specific areas away from him, like in the air above his head. Since he had the starting point and the destination, he could perform trigonometry and mathematical calculations to determine the magnitude and direction of the velocity required. He could quite literally launch blades as if he were Gilgamesh using Gate of Babylon.

A dozen blades converging on someone all at once was certainly enough to at least make them back off and consider their options.

His mind found blade after blade and began editing their properties. It didn't matter what any of the weapons were, so long as they were sharp, he would use them. Kitchen knives, industrial equipment and actual antiquated swords he had seen on his trip to the museum for school all queued up to receive coordinates. Weapons he had only seen in pictures or on TV also formed within his mind. Shirou personally called these objects "hollow". Since he could only extrapolate the visual component of the weapon, that was all he had to go on. They were visually threatening but they had the overall durability of thin eggshells. They shattered like glass from the slightest touch. It didn't matter if they didn't actually hurt her, it was the threat Shirou wanted.

As if being pumped out one by one in a factory, blades checked themselves off and prepared to be actualized. With his aria still in effect, weapons materialized out of golden sparks and began hovering horizontally in the middle of the air. A few of them were far from perfect due to the speed of their creation. Shirou felt an instant heat bubble up from his core and spread through his entire body. This was sucking an exorbitant amount of mana to perform, hopefully, it would work.

The blades hovered in the air for a brief moment, checking themselves over before flinging towards the destined target like oversized bullets. "Get away from her!" Shirou shouted in blind rage as his projections closed the distance. The intruder turned her head and body to prepare for a threat.

Her eyes widened in surprise as more than a dozen different weapons all converged on her location with equally randomized speed. In mid-flight, the weapons shook and wavered. Some of them veered off to impale the ground prematurely or even flung off wildly into the star-filled sky. Errors in his grid system or his calculations most likely. Only three of the fifteen fired actually landed where Shirou had intended. Four had landed around the assassin's general area while the rest hadn't even been close. Thankfully, the effect had been enough to dissuade the assassin. She leapt and distanced herself from the downed magus.

Staring at the boy with wild eyes, the assassin seemed unsure of what to do with herself now. She obviously hadn't expected sword-based projectiles. Shirou continued running, standing valiantly in front of Rin with his eyes locked on the slightly wounded combatant. It wouldn't take much for the assassin to re-engage, he had to be on his toes.

"You idiot," Rin coughed, trying to stand with obvious effort. "I was trying to save you, you should have taken Illya and ran."

"Save me? I was the one trying to save you!" Shirou whipped his head to glance at the trembling Tohsaka.

"What are you talking about!? Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?"

"What were you just trying to do then?" Shirou pointed out, getting a few stumbling syllables from the magus.

The suit-clad assassin slowly dropped her stance. Her arms fell to the side and her back straightened, giving her a professional appearance. She was watching the two teens bicker over who was more suited to sacrifice themselves for the safety of the others with a raised eyebrow.

Just as Rin preparing to formulate an actual response, the sound of clapping stripped the attention of everyone away. Searching for the source, Shirou found it coming from inside the house behind Illya. This was perfect, the assassin had an accomplice and Illya was defenceless. Judging by the frozen statue-like position of the albino, she was terrified.

Shirou reached into his mind to try creating more sword projectiles but after the first two, his circuits crackled, sending searing jolts of pain through his extremities. He was out of mana and it looked like his body had been running on reserves for quite a while now. Two antique swords appeared in the air over his shoulders, but they wavered and shook as if unsure of their purpose. The boy collapsed onto one knee with a grunt, gritting his teeth in stubborn determination.

The clapping continued from within, nearing the glass doorway that had been shattered in Rin's attack. In a few seconds, the still-bloodied figure of Kiritsugu stepped down onto the scorched grass of his formerly pristine backyard. "I hadn't expected you to cause so much damage, but success is success in whatever form it takes." A smile spread across his face as he used one hand to rustle the hair of his daughter.

* * *

 **Someone asked me if I had a goal when it came to this fic.**

 **Absolutely! My one and only goal is to land on the front page of Fate/StayNight fanfictions for at least one of the three criteria within the 60k word range. Either most reviews, favourites or follows. Then and only then will I be truly satisfied with my work! It's why I continually push all my viewers to review, favourite and follow as often as I can without trying to be obnoxious. Review help me develop the story and communicate with my readers while the follows and favourites inspire me to write more to please my fans.**

 **After speaking to some of the reviewers in depth, I've determined that I've been sticking to the reality of Type-Moon pretty well. Certain minor infractions for the express purpose of story development have been made, but as I've been told, not even Type-Moon abides to all the rules of Type-Moon.**

 **Like usual, the amount of free time I have is ludicrous. I'm about one-third of the way through the next chapter but I don't expect it to be finished any time _soon_. I'd expect maybe two weeks or something mainly because I'd really like to nail down Bazett's personality and determine where I want Shirou to progress from this point forward. As far as I know, Bazett is a finicky balance between sarcasm, cold professionalism and badassery. Is that a word? Is now. I've never read/seen Hollow Ataraxia so I'm really just shooting in the dark.**

 **Ah well. I'll probably be able to pull it off. Remember to favourite, follow and leave a review with your thoughts! To stimulate you into reviewing, I'll leave you with another question. (Keep in mind that the results _may_ or _may not_ alter the outcome of the fic.)**

 **Between the four women closest to Shirou (Saber, Sakura, Illya and Rin), which would you choose to be sacrificed/betrayed for the _greater good_? The remaining three not sacrificed will live full lives (Including Saber and Illya) but each one knows of the betrayal.**


	11. Nevermore

**EDIT:** **I'll throw out all my garbage in the morning. Tonight I have to edit more chapters.**

 **Immediately I want to clarify something that seemed to stick with a very specific, very dedicated guest viewer. You can read the full extent yourself if you do some looking, but they basically said that Shirou would never betray or sacrifice someone close to them and were generally upset by the question asked last chapter. I agree with the reviewer entirely. Shirou would never choose to sacrifice someone. Even if it was the** ** _only_** **way to "save the world" he wouldn't do it. As stubborn and righteous as Shirou is, he would try his best to save everyone even if it eventually ended with more suffering.**

 **Since I can't speak directly to the guest, I'll speak here! What it seems they and most of you have deduced, is that Shirou will be the one doing the sacrificing of one of his friends... But who said he would be doing the betraying? They are Shirou's friends sure, and Shirou is usually the one who has to make the tough decisions... But the Magus Killer is still alive. The ruthless, efficiency-forward Magus Killer that cares little for those around him so long as a greater number of lives are saved in the end. Remember that he still breathes and that he can still fight.**

 **I'd like to shout out SentinalSlice for being the _only_ reviewer who thanked my beta after I asked. If you're reading this, I'm proud of you little buddy!**

 **Also, this next chapter might come quite a bit later than usual. Reading week is coming up and I'll be taking a little extra time to relax so I don't burn myself out of writing. (I can also catch up on a lot of my youtubers that I've been neglecting)**

 **I have the feeling that after reading this chapter, a considerable amount of people are going to flood the reviews with hypotheses. Some of them are going to be true, some aren't. I guess you'll just have to wonder how cruel I am. :}**

* * *

Everyone sitting at the dining table was furious. Shirou was mad at his father for playing such a dirty trick, Rin was upset with herself for not seeing through the lie and being unable to truly injure the intruder while Illya was fuming over the fact that Shirou had almost been killed. She didn't get any happier after Kiritsugu told her that Bazett was supposed to focus on Shirou as he was the only one who could handle such a beating.

The absence of Sakura through the night had been for good reason as well - she had been in on it the entire time! Kiritsugu had let the girl know in advance which was why she had taken the other western-style room farthest from Shirou without argument. Usually, she would have fought tooth and nail to be closer to him, how hadn't he noticed that?

While everyone stewed in the juices of their own anger, Sakura made a fragrant black tea to try calming everyone down. The strange woman, who had rather frankly kicked all their asses, stood with her back against the door frame. Shirou realized that she hadn't said a word since her arrival. Even when Illya had reluctantly healed what minor wounds she had, she hadn't even thanked the homunculus. Shirou was a lot worse for wear. With all the adrenaline and protectionist instincts out of his mind, he was in incredible pain. His legs, arms and mostly his chest pounded with an intense aching pain that made breathing difficult. Illya's magecraft healed the area but it did absolutely nothing to remove the pain of the actual injury. Avalon was dulling the pain some but it would take some time to fully repair everything.

The old man was out of the room washing all the blood off himself. He had known Shirou would trace him, so he couldn't use fake blood or a substitute otherwise he'd be found out. The old man had just cut open his chest to bleed down his front, then somehow stopped his internal organs-

Shirou's train of thought halted immediately. The Emiya family crest allowed the use of time acceleration within the space of a bounded field. His father frequently used such a feat to move at double speed to increase his combat potential to unprecedented levels, but why should its abilities end at _accelerating_ time? Why couldn't he do the exact opposite and _slow_ time? Because all the contents of the field were affected by the time alteration, his organs could be slowed to a rate in which he appeared lifeless.

That had to be it. Such a dirty, nasty trick only he could pull off effectively.

The door slid open and the trickster in question stepped in wearing a fluffy white bathrobe. His face held a warm smile even though everyone inside the dining room was staring at him with intense hatred. "It was a dirty trick and you're upset, I can understand that," he spoke, sliding the door closed behind him. "However, it was for good reason. I've been wanting to simulate a real enemy encounter for some time now. Unfortunately, it happened so late because our schedules have never lined up." He motioned offhandedly to the businesswoman just to his side.

There was a dead, spiteful silence in the room broken only by the slight clatter of china as Sakura placed cups of tea in front of her friends.

The old man sighed in defeat. "Your potential couldn't be realized without a genuine threat." He gestured to his son. "Because you were worried that Rin might die, you learned a new way to use your projections." Without waiting for a response, he turned to Illya and Rin. The Tohsaka mage had overexerted herself charging those gem-swords to their absolute limit. She was drained and on the verge of total system shutdown. That last Gandr shot probably hadn't helped either. "The three of you also experienced just how effective you are when you combine your strengths. You were able to repel and even wound one of the Mage's Associations most formidable Enforcers."

Aside, Illya whispered to Rin. "Your body isn't recovering, you pushed yourself too hard." The albino gently pulled some hair away from her face, leaning close to hear the barely audible words the magus was speaking.

The suit-clad woman closed her eyes slowly. "They performed adequately. They're still young so they have potential." She spoke in English with a softened Irish accent. Thankfully it didn't affect the clarity of her speech. Shirou surprisingly understood her now, converting English to Japanese in his head. At least learning English in school was paying off.

" _Adequately?_ " Shirou asked, blinking several times. "You almost ruptured my heart and I managed to hold you off while half naked!" he shouted, wincing as the exertion sent a shooting pain through his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and sudden nausea washed over him. His organs were not handling their reconstruction very well.

"Then you copied my attire and technique and were still unable to defeat me. If you had truly understood my martial arts style, you should have been able to counter every strike I threw at you," the woman casually responded, not even bothering to open her eyes.

Kiritsugu slowly knelt down at the table. "I understand none of you are going to like this, but you will all be training with Bazett while she is here."

"She's st-staying here?" Shirou asked, stuttering as a stabbing pain shot through him again.

Kiritsugu nodded. "For a few months or until a job takes her away. I've offered to pay her a salary seeing as how she is unable to find decent work." Just how deep did his father's pockets go? He was bound to be running a little short with all the expenses, and it wasn't like he was bringing in an income through work either.

Rin slumped against Illya. Even though it seemed to be intentional, it didn't detract from the fact that she was hurting quite badly. The Tohsaka whispered something against the albino's ear. "How do you know Kiritsugu? Being an Enforcer means you hunt Sealing Designates?" Illya asked. Judging by the questioning tone of her voice, she was speaking on behalf of the disabled Tohsaka.

Bazett opened her eyes before pushing her back off the wall. "My mother spoke highly of him. When I was younger she went off on an _important task_." The woman accented the last words with quotations signs using her fingers. "I found out later before she died that she had gone off to train your old man for the Grail War. She had known of you before then of course. You get to learn the names of people who keep stealing your contracts out from underneath you." Her eyes grew a shade colder before returning to their impressive state.

The old man nodded solemnly, thanking Sakura as she placed a full cup in front of him. It was almost like he had ignored the last comment entirely. "Your mother was a good woman, it's unfortunate she had to die so young." Kiritsugu took a sip of his steaming hot tea. How he managed to avoid burning his tongue, Shirou would never know.

"Daddy, Rin isn't getting any better," Illya commented, holding the larger woman's head against her shoulder comfortingly. The Tohsaka seemed pale and she was barely breathing.

"She might have overdone things. Shirou, please take Rin to her bedroom. Illya, go along with them so you can monitor her condition, please. Then you can all get some rest and we can talk about this tomorrow morning before you go to school." He offered his children a small smile as they hesitantly obliged. Shirou could hardly move, but after using what was left of his mana reserves to reinforce his body he managed to lift the surprisingly light Tohsaka, bridal style.

Sakura pouted at the sight. "Mister Emiya, where is Shirou going to sleep with his room so damaged?"

"I suppose…" he paused, casting a glance at the violet-haired girl before smiling a little wider. "We wouldn't want to dirty another room, he can move his futon to your room, Sakura."

The girl seemed to twitch before a frail smile graced her lips. "That's quite wise of you. If you don't mind, I can move your futon, Senpai." Not even waiting for a response, the girl set down her teapot and squeaked out the door.

Blinking several times as if trying to rationalize what had just happened, Shirou carefully moved through the now open door to put Rin to bed.

Down the hall, past his own room - which featured a new exit outside - and around the corner to the farthest room possible on this side of the house. Illya opened the door for him and Shirou wasted no time settling the girl down on her bed. When he lifted the blanket to cover her, he set it down gently as if dropping it would shatter her like she were frail porcelain.

"At least she was already dressed for bed. Otherwise, you would have had to change her," Illya commented, propping her hands on her hips and looking at the face of the near-unconscious woman.

Sputtering, Shirou turned to his sister. "W-why would I have to undress her? I wouldn't even think of doing that anyway!" Unseen to Shirou, the drained magus blushed and tried to turn her head away.

"Well we couldn't let her sleep in normal clothes and I wouldn't be strong enough to do it. Why don't you want to undress Tohsaka? A lot of guys will kill for the chance. Do you think she's not pretty?"

Now it was Shirou's turn to blush. "That's not the point! Rin is very good loo-" Shirou stopped abruptly, twitching as he realized what he had just said. If the giggle Illya gave was any indication, she was playing with him, _again_.

"You're so fun to mess with, big brother." She turned to him, beaming up with a bright smile. "You're going to have to make a choice sooner or later you know."

Just as he was about to ask what that meant, Illya jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could really determine if that had just happened, he was being roughly shoved out of the room with surprising force from a girl who apparently couldn't undress someone on her own. Just as thought returned to him, he was forced out the door which slammed closed behind him. Grumbling in frustration, he looked around to ensure nobody had witnessed anything. She had done that just to distract him, right?

The bad part was that it had worked.

… … …

Sakura's room was surprisingly the most furnished room in the entire Emiya household. Two dressers, a king-sized bed, a desk with an office-type chair, a standing lamp and an old china cabinet that was packed with kitsch.

Shirou wasn't comfortable sleeping in the same room as Sakura but he couldn't argue against the sound logic Kiritsugu had used. He would have to clean whichever room he used and while housework wasn't a bad thing in Shirou's mind, it was a waste of time to the old man. Kiritsugu let a lot of things slide, but wasting time was definitely something he wouldn't allow.

Sakura had demanded that Shirou do nothing while she prepared his bedding. According to her, he had taken enough abuse tonight so he would just need to rest while she handled everything. Even though his arms felt like they would fall off in a slight breeze, Shirou disliked having things done for him.

But trying to fight against Sakura when she had her mind set on something was like trying to make a horse walk on two legs. Not wanting to be entirely idle, Shirou peeked around the room to look at all the knick-knacks Kiritsugu had hidden away. The rest of their house was abnormally free of any clutter. Now Shirou knew why. The old man had stored it all away here whenever he grew tired of it. All the gifts and mementos were forgotten with time here, it was ironic that Sakura was sleeping here.

Statues, trinkets, souvenirs and cards lined the dressers, but something else caught Shirou's eye. It looked like an old dusty jar about half full of black liquid. Curiously, the boy picked it up and examined the contents. Something about the fluid inside disturbed him as if it was impure and vile. There was no sensory response from the jar beyond a pit in his gut that warned him to move away.

Well, if his natural senses didn't work, his magical sense might. Tracing the jar and its contents, information suddenly flooded his mind and sickened him to the core. The fluid had been a worm, specifically a crest worm. The jar itself was a magical construct of his father, maintained for all these years so he could conduct experiments on the contents. The jar had been opened a total of six times. Focusing more on the contents rather than the container, Shirou found the worm-goo to be about eight years old. Oddly enough, a steady stream of mana was connected to the fluid, trailing off somewhere to the south.

Shirou broke off the information flow, compiling the rest of the data he received for later use. He had heard of these worms before in his father's journal. They were the foul creatures working under Zouken. There was a pause as he tried to figure out what that really meant. They weren't pets, but magical creatures powered to act as the old man's body. If that were true, then the mana connection would link the physical body with this liquid worm. That likely meant its location could be seen or detected in some way.

Empty sections of a puzzle within Shirou's mind suddenly filled themselves. This worm, what was left of it, had been how Zouken and Kariya were able to find Iri and Maiya so easily. Shirou wasn't very educated in familiars, but the old man might have been able to effectively see inside the house through the eyes of the worm if it were alive at the time. That was if the creature even had eyes. It was likely how Zouken knew when to strike to retrieve Sakura the first time Kiritsugu had rescued her. The jarred worm had probably been in the same room as her, inconspicuously observing and relaying information to its master.

The pain in Shirou's body replaced itself with seething anger. So much pain had been indirectly caused by this worm. Maiya had been forced to use her own life to kill Kariya and protect Irisviel. Sakura was stolen from a decent life and forced back into a slave-like state for the second time. Who knows what else the disgusting Matou might have done to cause more suffering, all due to this worm.

There was a voice from behind him but his attention was locked on the jar in his hand. Zouken had continually supplied what was left of his creature with mana. Even after it decomposed into what was essentially tar, he kept an eye on it for one reason or another. Shirou would discover why, but not tonight, not now. As calm as he could, he set the jar back in its place and turned to face a concerned Sakura. Something in his mind told him to trace _her_ , but his heart stopped him. If what he feared was true, he might do something stupid he'd later regret.

"Senpai?" she asked quietly, scanning his face for an emotion to decide on a response.

He did his best to hide everything; if it worked or not he couldn't tell. "I was just thinking about why the old man played such a dirty trick on us," he lied. Lying to Sakura was a risky move. She would see through it either way but if she called him out on the matter or not was another story.

She frowned, pouted, then looked into Shirou's eyes all in an attempt at conning the truth out of him. Shirou gave a smile as genuine as he could. "Maybe I'll tell you in the morning, I'm too exhausted right now."

… … …

… … …

The Magus Killer slipped on his coat. It had been some time since he'd last put it on, but the action still felt as familiar as breathing. Reaching into one pocket, he withdrew his black leather gloves and eased those on as well. To counter the unused stiffness he encountered, he flexed his fingers and tried to stretch the material as much as he could. His fault for not taking care of genuine leather for nearly a decade.

Even though he was effectively retired from his "career", he didn't stop trying to follow the task laid out before him. He had to aid Shirou however he could. If not only so the boy could win the Grail War, but so that he could protect those around him and put an end to _all_ subsequent Grail Wars. To be fair, Kiritsugu hadn't done very much, but he was doing what he could. When they were younger he made sure his children wouldn't kill each other in their training sessions and now, he was eliminating a potential threat before it could ever emerge.

The familiar weight of his Contender came into his hand. He had just disassembled and cleaned it an hour ago after a lengthy conversation with Bazett. They had briefly caught one another up with current events and established their roles. She would train Shirou and Rin physically and privately train Shirou in basic runecraft. Surprisingly, Bazett only wanted money in exchange. Evidently, the girl had issues financially and she could barely afford a place to live.

The Calico followed the Contender into his coat, settling into place comfortably. Everything felt heavier than usual. Likely a downside of becoming the _old man_ Shirou always claimed him to be. His thirty-ninth birthday had come and passed, soon he would be forty. Whoever heard of a forty-year-old assassin?

Grumbling to himself, he donned the well-worn expression of the Magus Killer and slipped out of his room as quietly as he could. Turning the corner to the entrance hall, he suddenly came face to face with his son, who stumbled out of the other hallway. The boy looked his father over like he was an entirely different person before a firm expression came across his face.

"Going to work again?" he stated more than asked. There was an odd feeling that accompanied the knowledge that someone else knew _exactly_ how you operated. Four whole years had gone by since Shirou traced his journal but the two had never been the same since. It wasn't something anyone else could notice, but Kiritsugu could see a glint of something resentful within Shirou's slowly graying eyes. The Magus Killer hadn't let that little feature go unnoticed. It was something odd, considering that Caster had gleaming golden eyes without so much as a speck of gray.

Kiritsugu nodded slightly. What could he say? " _I'm going to kill an enemy of yours you've never even met._ " Like that would work. He decided on responding with a single word. "Unfortunately."

Unexpectedly, the flicker of anger smouldered in Shirou's eyes. "There's no point in trying to stop you, so make sure you come back safe. Don't forget that you have people here who depend on you." He wasn't speaking about himself, but Illya. If he died, she would be grief-stricken into a severe depression. Kiritsugu didn't even want to picture his happy little girl in such a state. The Magus Killer nodded briefly again before striding past his son out the front door.

… … …

Kiritsugu had been watching the church ever since it was rebuilt. Risei Kotomine was still alive, surprisingly. For an eighty-eight-year-old man, he got around quite well. Whether it was the supposed grace of God that had kept him alive or some other force didn't matter: he was a potential threat to Shirou and he needed to be removed.

Since the death of his son, Risei Kotomine had continually paid goons to scour the city, searching for the Magus Killer like bloodhounds. In the first year, Kiritsugu had been spotted by one of these thugs and he had made the unfortunate decision to kill one of them. Even though the scout was unable to relay the information of the sighting, their death signified that Kiritsugu _was_ still in Fuyuki.

All of this was why Kiritsugu rarely left the house. The sparse few times he did, he wore different clothes, concealed his face and hid his magical signature with runes. It was a sacrifice he had to make to prevent anything from getting back to his family.

Sure if the priest had taken the time to look through the school records he would have found an Emiya, but since Kiritsugu wasn't supposed to have a son, why would he look there in the first place? Thankfully the boy hadn't done anything to get himself on the news or to have his name spread around town.

All of this was beside the point. The Magus Killer was here to perform a task and protect his son. Due to the sensitive position of the priest, a simple ranged assassination wouldn't do. A bullet through the brain or a knife across the neck would cause too much suspicion and drive a full-scale investigation on behalf of the church to Fuyuki. As strange as it sounded, Risei would need to be killed subtly to convince the church he simply died of old age. Kiritsugu knew of ways to force a heart attack, but subtle espionage tactics weren't his forte.

It was quarter to one in the morning which meant the priest would be asleep in the basement. Stealthily moving up to the church doors, Kiritsugu realized that they were locked. Beyond that minor inconvenience, a bounded field encapsulated the entire structure. Neither were something that could stop the Magus Killer.

Placing his hand on the door, Kiritsugu closed his eyes and focused on handling the bounded field first. Even though Risei was old and wise, he was far from being an incredible magus. The design was average and, unlike the Einzbern field, far from uncrackable. It took barely a minute to implant his own signature to the field to prevent any alarms from going off. After that was done, another spell was used to unlock the door. In one fluid motion, he slipped in and closed the door as quietly as possible.

The inside of the church was pristine. Polished, varnished pews on either side of a large red-carpeted aisle which led to a simple wooden shrine. Candles offered an ominous flickering orange glow from the far end of the room. Coupled with the pallid streams of moonlight from outside, an eerie atmosphere purveyed the room. Thinking it over, it was rather uncommon to lock a church, was it not? It was supposedly a safe haven for the lambs of God, for restless souls looking for sanctuary. Either the following was disbanding or the priest was paranoid.

The scent of burning wax and scented religious oils clouded the air to the point where it nearly became choking. Holding back a slight cough as his throat and nose adjusted to it all, the Magus Killer moved down the aisle in search of a stairway down. Unlike the Einzbern castle, he hadn't interfered with the church while it was being repaired. Maiya had been the one to place the explosives throughout the interior and comparing the floorplan in his mind from back then to the layout of today was producing inconsistencies.

He would check where the original staircase had been, then move out from there. Keeping one hand on the Calico in his coat, the Magus Killer slunk around corners through the dark, checking every possible angle to prevent an ambush. Moving away from the shrine in the main entrance, the heavy scent of fragrant oils dissipated.

Opening a closed door, Kiritsugu spotted the stairway down where artificial light bathed the far wall. Obviously, the church had been renovated to include overhead lighting when it had been rebuilt. Withdrawing the gun from his coat, Kiritsugu slowly and carefully moved down the stone stairway into the basement. Down here, the scent of oils was replaced with the cold, musty smell of stone.

This first room was a sort of working area complete with a desk, rug, two chairs and cabinets for storing files. A doorway sat on the right and far walls. Both were closed although only the far room had light coming from below.

Moving slowly to limit the amount of noise he made, Kiritsugu slid up to the door and wrapped his hand around the handle carefully. There were noises on the other end, the sound of someone removing clothing if he had to guess. In one quick motion, the Magus Killer turned the handle, pushed the door open and pointed the Calico at the undressing priest inside.

Thankfully the man wasn't indecent, only missing his shirt as he prepared to go to sleep. "Who's ther-" He shouted in mid-turn, paling and dropping his jaw as he instantly recognized the man before him. "You!" he decided to exclaim, voice turning from surprise to unadulterated anger.

The Magus Killer motioned forward with his gun, face a visage of deadly intent. Understanding the message, Risei took a few steps back to put a healthy distance between the two.

"You've come here to finish the job?" the priest growled, trying to keep himself in control. "Return eight years later and for what?" he asked, fists clenching at his sides. Even though he was old, the man had the toned body of a competitive weightlifter. His muscles were toned and rock-hard. He would be a difficult opponent to handle in a fight for sure. Kiritsugu was hoping it wouldn't come to that but based on the anger in his voice, it might have to. "To kill an old man trying to forget the past?"

Kiritsugu shook his head slightly, keeping the Calico levelled at Risei's chest. "I've come to ensure the safety of my own son." The statement seemed to shock the priest, if only partly.

"You don't have a son," he spat, motioning with his hand as if it meant nothing.

"You're wrong. After the explosion at the end of the Fourth War, I found a boy among the fire and adopted him as my son. He'll put an end to the Grail Wars once and for all."

"And how can you be so sure? What makes you believe that some insignificant boy you picked up from an accident will become anything with a father as heartless as you?" Risei insulted, fury bubbling to the surface and staining his voice.

"Dreams revealed to me the evil hidden within your son." The priest didn't comment this time, likely appalled at hearing a murderer call his own son evil. "You weren't in the room while Kirei's wife, Claudia Hortensia, passed away, so you wouldn't understand what I'm talking about." Kiritsugu shook his head partly, putting his free hand into his coat pocket. "A dream years before the War revealed my death at the hands of your son. He was an executor, a user of Bajiquan and black keys, correct?"

The priest nodded wordlessly.

"He used both these techniques in our battle. Our fight ended in a stalemate, ultimately we would both be killed in our own final attacks. There was no winner and no loser, just an ending. To prevent this, I instructed a contact of mine to follow and investigate your son so that I could verify him as a master in the oncoming war. In 1992, following the death of his wife, command seals appeared and you, and your son planned to work together with Tokiomi Tohsaka so that the Tohsaka family could claim the Grail." Kiritsugu paused to swallow. "After verifying the events revealed by my dream, measures were taken to plant explosives throughout the former Church. You may have remembered a young woman with dark green hair frequently visiting before never being seen again. She was my assistant and her job was to plant all of the internal explosives. She commented on her liking of flowers and you took it upon yourself to begin gardening to try and surprise her. It wasn't an organized plan of mine, but the action saved you from the same fate as your son."

The priest seemed to re-stiffen as his anger returned.

"The War required an overseer and if you were unable to hold your place, another might delay the War for an investigation to determine who was attempting to overthrow the War would have occurred. You, however, are too wise and too willing to help Tokiomi to halt the War for even a second. It was the perfect plan since I would never cross your mind as a potential suspect, until…"

"Another master came forward and proved you were guilty." Risei finished the thought, voice quite a bit calmer than it had been.

"Correct. That master was the man I had hired to keep an eye on your son. He had deliberately been toying with me and my life from the start of the War. Setting you on my tail subsequently sent every master against me. If I hadn't established a ceasefire with the master of Rider, your little wager would have spelled my death for certain."

Risei shook his head. "We're getting off track, how does any of this pertain to me and my son."

"It doesn't. I simply want you to understand my reasoning for both of your deaths."

"So you do plan on killing me."

"Of course. If my son becomes a master in the next war and goes to you to certify his position, you'd kill him right then and there as an act of vengeance." The priest made a tsk noise, far from denying the fact. "Have you retained any records of the War and its events?"

Risei shook his head. "I have no time to write things down, what need have I to pass on my regrets and anger to the next overseer to take my stead?"

"That's good, then we can do this one of two ways." Kiritsugu motioned towards his bed with the barrel of his gun. "You lie down and I inject a pocket of air into one of your major arteries. You'll die within seconds peacefully and whoever finds your body will believe you had a heart attack, nothing more, nothing less."

"And my other option?"

"I fill your chest with bullets and you succumb to a painful bloody death that is investigated for months which results in the discovery of absolutely nothing. Your killer will never be found, your body suffering the same fate."

There was a brief silence as the priest clenched his fists tight. "You have everything wrapped up with a neat bow, don't you?"

The Magus Killer nodded. "We're both getting old. The less struggling, the better for both of us."

"Because you're starting to show signs of age and want an easy ending, I should just lay down and die for your son after you mercilessly murdered my own?" The priest made a fair point, Kiritsugu was asking for a lot. With a grumble and a shuffle from the hand in his pocket, the Magus Killer withdrew a tape recorder. It was gray but it had slightly yellowed with age. The surface and its buttons were rather well worn but it seemed in decent shape all the same.

"This is a recording taken from within the hospital during Claudia Hortensia's last moments with her husband. I believe it will provide all the explanation you need." Keeping the gun trained on the priest, Kiritsugu slowly bent down and placed the device on the ground. With a gentle kick, it slid just in front of the priest.

… … …

"Even with a family, he couldn't find anything to fill that void inside him." Risei sighed. "I can't deny that this is my son. My real son, not the obedient facade but the person he really was." The anger in his voice had been replaced with a disheartened, almost depressed tone.

"Kirei only wished for pain and suffering, if he had gotten a chance at claiming the Grail I can only imagine what his wish would have been," Kiritsugu agreed, shifting his arm after having held the Calico for so long. "Have you decided on your resting place?"

Risei lowered his head, shoulder slumping forwards as he considered the words in their entirety. The distance was too far to cover with a fist, but nowhere near large enough for him to have even a possibility of dodging a bullet. "I will die peacefully, although I wish to make a request. You can grant one simple thing to a dying old man, can't you?"

Kiritsugu slowly nodded. "So long as it is within reason, I will grant it." A man's last request was to be respected. He was the Magus Killer, an assassin, but not a savage animal. The priest wasn't some heartless Sealing Designate who cared little for the wellbeing of innocents, nor was he obstructing some colossal goal. On top of all this, Risei had no chance of making it out alive.

"Allow me to leave a code for the next overseer to take my place so that they may use the command seals I've gathered over the years." Kiritsugu looked over the priest's arms, looking over at least a dozen command seals scaling from his wrist to his shoulder. It was a risky move as whoever the next overseer would be might have the possibility of being a master in the Fifth Grail War. A small chance, but stranger things had happened. Was sacrificing what little civility he had worth taking a minor risk?

"Very well, I expect you will encode it in a way that the average magus will not discover it." Kiritsugu huffed, squinting partly as the priest seemed to relax a touch.

The priest nodded before slowly shuffling over to his bed. He raised both of his open hands to show he wasn't planning on reaching under something for a weapon. The Magus Killer spotted his goal, a pen and piece of paper which rested on the night table, filled with scribblings and writings that couldn't be made out. That was odd, Kiritsugu was certain he could have seen much smaller things from farther out just a few years ago. Cautiously, the priest picked up the pen and wrote something quite short on the paper. He sighed once, settling both items on the night table before clambering into bed and getting comfortable. "Let's get this over with then."

With some trepidation, Kiritsugu used his off hand to pull an empty syringe from another pocket. Stepping closer to the foot of the bed, the Magus Killer offered one last glance to the priest. His eyes were closed and his mouth was moving, likely a final prayer to whatever deity he believed in.

Murdering someone so personally and peacefully like this was rather sickening. When death came at the end of a countdown, emotions ran high. Regret, nervousness, anxiety and fear above all else. Fear of what came afterwards, what would await them at the end of this life. The mind couldn't properly handle questions of that calibre, so it settled with fearing the unknown. The Magus Killer preferred unexpected kills much more. No regret, no suffering, just one quick motion and the light was extinguished. It was much easier to die with aspirations and dreams than to realize you would never achieve them as your life closed in around you.

Kiritsugu didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Shirou hardly registered that the school bell had rung until a prodding on his shoulder pulled him from his daydream.

"You look a little lost, Emiya." Turning to see who the voice belonged to, Shirou met the - rather pretty - smiling face of Mitsuzuri. Shirou hardly understood what she'd said, but her smile was contagious and it immediately latched onto him.

"Guess I got a little caught up thinking about some things," he admitted, slowly packing up his books.

The girl hummed solemnly, placing one fist on her hip. "Are you coming to Archery Club today?"

Shirou paused his packing for a moment. "Of course, I always let you know in advance if I'm not going to show up." Sliding the last of his books into his bag, he stood and gave a quizzical look. "You need me for something, don't you?"

"Besides cleaning, fixing up broken equipment, leading the entire team, being our flagship archer and attracting all of the younger girls to our class all on your own?" Mitsuzuri shook her head. "Not only do you work hard in the club, but you also work a part-time job. Take a break tonight and try to relax." Shirou opened his mouth to disagree but she continued with a playful punch to the shoulder. "Besides, Tohsaka wanted to talk with you so you'd better go find her. Oh, and if you come to archery I'll hit you for real!" Backing up slowly, the bright girl gave a casual wave and left the room.

Shirou was alone in the classroom now, rather confused about what to do with himself. What had Mitsuzuri meant by Rin wanting to speak with him? They spoke almost every day!

Grumbling, Shirou lifted his bag and left to go find the young Magus. He just hoped that she didn't have any _magecraft training exercises_ for him to complete. He had almost lost an arm in the last one.

… … …

Trying to find someone at Homurahara Academy was pretty easy. Since it was a walled schoolyard, Rin just had to wait at the main entrance for Shirou to leave. Eventually, the idiot would show up.

With arms crossed and her back against the stone, she nervously tapped two fingers. She wasn't impatient, people were just too damn slow. Would it kill Shirou to move a little faster? Well, that wasn't really right of her to ask, was it? Shirou always tried to do his best wherever he could. Was it really justified for her to be so hard on him just because he wasn't as good as her in magecraft? Even her mother has asked why she was so rough with him.

Her mother was the only person Rin could rely on and she had taught her so many things. Makeup, cooking, how to act properly in a formal setting and recently Aoi had tried to help her in her competition for Shirou. She had suggested Rin be _nicer_ , but she was nice already, wasn't she? She didn't tease him on purpose, it just happened as a sort of natural defence mechanism.

Something orange caught her eye and her mind leapt to the foolish looking boy that made her heart skip - no, that was a leaf falling from a tree, dammit!

"Rin?" a voice asked from right beside her. With a noise of surprise she nearly jumped right out of her skin. Turning to face whoever had snuck up on her, the familiar, stupid face of Shirou clicked in her mind. A face split in a dumb, charming smile that warmed her cheeks.

"What are you doing sneaking up on people like that!" she shouted, watching the smile fade to confusion. She thrust her fists down beside her hips and leaned forward, trying to disguise her embarrassment with anger.

"I walked right past you but you didn't follow me so I thought I'd say hi." He shrugged, then motioned with his head back to the school. "Mitsuzuri said you wanted to speak with me, why couldn't you wait until you got to my house?"

Rin took a deep breath, calming her pounding heart. "Because you're going to be coming to my house tonight, I have an important experiment I need you for." Watching his face was like watching a movie with delayed video. He started to speak, then his face turned to confusion as if he didn't believe what he was hearing before his mind realized what was going on and confusion settled.

"W-wait, how am I supposed to train with Bazett if I'm at your house?"

"I've already spoken to her about the matter. I've convinced her that what I have planned is more important than hand-to-hand." With his attention captured, Shirou finally let her speak. "Years back you tried your father's journal and were able to see all of the information contained within." Rin purposefully left out her knowledge of how deep Shirou's tracing went. She knew as well as he did that hand-written books revealed the writer's thoughts as they were writing. "My father wrote most of the spell books in my family library so I wanted to see if you could learn magecraft better that way." She lied through her teeth. Rin wasn't doing any of this for his benefit, she was doing it for herself. She wanted to hear the thoughts of her father, to know him better than she had. Unsurprisingly, her father had hardly spent any time with her. He'd always been too busy with magecraft or with other matters concerning a magus. Fine details like his personality were entirely void in her mind. She still respected and valued him greatly, but his early passing had always left her…jaded, for lack of a better word.

The orange-haired boy shrugged passively. "Then I guess it's already been settled. At least I won't get my ribs punched out for the second time in two days." With one hand, he rubbed absently at his chest.

"I knew you'd like my plan." She offered a genuine smile. His words had an effect on her she hadn't fully expected. She almost felt sorry for him. The amount of abuse and pain Shirou went through every day was actually staggering. Archery without vambraces, kendo with Taiga, training against her and Illya and now martial arts against a high-ranking Enforcer? Not to mention all the training Kiritsugu forced him into and all the extra-curricular he put _himself_ through. "Well, let's not waste any more time." The Tohsaka pushed off the stone wall and started on the route back home.

Shirou followed in silence for some time before suddenly breaking in with a sudden comment. "I'm surprised it only took a good night's rest to get you back into shape, you were pretty out of it after hurting Bazett last night. I guess it's because you're such a good magus."

A rush of heat flooded to her face. Memories of that night sharing a bed with Illya swirled around her head. That night, Rin had had issues regenerating her mana with her circuits so starved, so Illya had taken a desperate measure. It wasn't anything that could get her arrested, but it was incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Rin doubted she could ever look at the girl the same way.

"Y-yeah, I'm just good at recovering." She clumsily went along with Shirou's explanation. Thankfully he was too blind to see through her obvious lie. Sometimes she appreciated how dull he was.

"Well, I'm glad you're not hurt," he said genuinely, making her cheeks rise a few more degrees in temperature. Did he say things like that just out of sheer dumb luck? Or was he secretly aware of everything going on but just chose to be ignorant? No, that couldn't be. Shirou was too easy to read to be devious like that.

Deciding not to comment on his words, the two continued their walk. Within ten minutes they reached the Tohsaka manor. "I've never understood why you want to stay at my house when you have such a big mansion," Shirou commented absently. Rin in the meantime put a key into the iron gate and yanked it open just enough for them to enter.

"Come in here, you might figure out why." She gestured with one hand, holding onto the ajar gate. With slight confusion, the boy took a few steps through the iron fence and seemed to grow uneasy.

"Why does it feel this way?" he asked, looking around as if that would help him find whatever was causing the sensation.

This was the first time Shirou had ever stepped foot into her bounded field. Comparing it to the field around his house wasn't even possible. The Emiya field was near invisible, only detecting a sense of malice from potential intruders outside to trigger the sound of a bell inside the house. While the malice-based warning system was common, the sheer complexity and hidden nature of the field wasn't. The Magus Killer had likely constructed it with his knowledge of breaking barriers working in his favour. He could hide away everything a normal assassin might look for. What made Rin feel more at home in the Emiya household, was the _emotion_ radiating from the field itself.

It was happy and warm. If Rin could describe it, she would call it the sense of a family. The Tohsaka field had none of these qualities. It was large and gaudy to dissuade prying magi. It activated against every intruder, it forced normal people away and when activated, well…Rin hadn't actually seen it activated, but she imagined it did something threatening or damaging, or both. That was the only problem with reusing her father's bounded field. She had no idea how it worked. Worst of all, there was an impending sense of loneliness. An aching feeling that was simultaneously heartless and without humanity.

"It's cold, isn't it?" she asked, getting an uncomfortable nod. "I don't know how you've managed to do it, but your field is the only one I've seen that isn't harsh and uninviting like this."

Shirou continued trying to look around, eventually shrugging half-heartedly. "You'd have to ask the old man since he made it. I just supply it with mana."

Rin closed and locked the gate, walking past the still-adjusting boy to the front door of her house. "If you think this is bad, don't go to Sakura's."

… … …

There was a loud noise as Rin dropped a pile of books on the dust-covered table of her workshop. It was dark down here, ripe with the event of dust and candle wax. "Alright, let's give you something easy." The magus hummed as she ran her fingers down the spine of a few books. There weren't any labels Shirou could see, but he imagined that she had a system in place that told her what each book was. After a few seconds, she carefully pulled one from the stack and looked over its front and back cover. "How about one of the more recent ones about _Conceptual Weaponry with Jewelcraft?_ "

"Why would I need to kn-" Shirou was cut off as the book was thrust into his chest. He could certify that it was definitely heavier than it looked.

"Just see if you can understand anything inside by tracing it." Rin huffed, skimming her fingers down the stack of books again, trying to find the next target.

Grumbling, Shirou lifted the book to eye level and turned it over a few times. Oil-soaked leather and yellowed parchment stained by the passage of time. The stench of musty oil and ink stung his nostrils. The cover was bland. A simple flat piece of leather far from the level of intricacy of his father's journal. Curiously, he cracked open a page only to find that the writings were in a language he didn't understand. "Rin, I can-" The girl in question reached over and slammed the book closed on his fingers.

"Don't say can't, just try it and see what happens," she instructed, pointing an accusatory finger at him like he was a dog in training.

Pulling his fingers from the pages, he gave a sigh. " _Trace on._ "

… … …

This wasn't right. Kiritsugu's journal had been the equivalent of a cinema screen playing memories of a man from the inside. This was… Where was he? What was he? Everything was dark, shrouded in a thin veil of nothingness that was difficult to focus on. The person he was, likely Rin's father Tokiomi, was an empty black hole in the shape of a human.

The entire area around him was shady. He was in Rin's workshop underneath the house but things had been moved, holes were left in the canvas of reality.

The most prevalent thing to Shirou was the man's thoughts. The voice of the man's consciousness spewed from every direction, layering on top of one another with differing topics as if an audio track had been played over itself several times. Shirou could hardly understand a word from all the voices streaming around him.

He was stuck here again and the amount of endless information sent sharp pains to his temples. His ears pounded in agony as he was forced to suffer ceaseless noise. Trying to dull the pain, he placed his hands over his ears only to find the voices unmuffled. The voices grew louder and more fervent in intensity until Shirou was _forced_ to listen. The War, his wife, his daughters, his life, the book he was writing, failure, the Magus Killer, Kirei Kotomine, his daughters…

If there was one thing Shirou could understand, it was the fact that Tokiomi loved his daughters. Sakura and Rin were on his mind every second thought. He wanted them both to have a good life, he wanted the best for each. He never once regretted his choice to split the two sisters. It had ultimately been the correct decision and it required no further justification. That didn't stop him from thinking about the two girls every second thought. What he did regret, was his absence as a father for Rin. He was upset over not being there for her. But he had a sure-fire plan to win the War, he would reach Akasha and return to Rin and Aoi alive.

… … …

A rough slap forced his eyes open. Rin was sitting on top of him with concern etched across her features. "Oh thank God," she huffed, collapsing onto his chest. "I thought I had almost killed you like Kiritsugu." She lifted her head and smiled, taking a second to brush the hair from her face.

Shirou, on the other hand, was still reeling from his experience. Extreme nausea and a lightheaded, feeble feeling surrounded him. His body seemed unsure on whether to vomit or collapse from exhaustion.

Blood pounded in his skull, sending aching jabs of pain in tune with his heartbeat. "I don't ever want to do that again." He lifted his hand, verifying that he still had motor functions.

Rin looked oddly sad, starting to pout. "That bad? Can you explain what happened?"

Shirou took a moment to check over his condition. He was on his back on the floor, likely having fallen over after he began tracing the book. Rin must have gotten on top of him to try and wake him up. That was when he realized that Rin was sitting on his hips.

It was going to get _extremely_ awkward if she remained there for any longer. Feeling his face grow hot, he rolled his entire body and half-threw the girl off. With a noise, the Tohsaka barely caught herself from bashing her head against the ground. She adjusted her arms to sit up somewhat, giving him a sharp glare. "What was that for?" she growled, shuffling to stand upright.

"Sorry, I couldn't sit on my back anymore," he lied, pressing the side of his head against the cool floor. "I didn't want to puke on you."

"So you toss me to the ground, how chivalrous of you." She grumbled, dusting herself off. With a great sigh, she looked over the stack of books she had brought out and sorted. "Guess you won't be tracing these."

Shirou felt a stab of sadness alongside the sense that he was letting her down in some way. Knowing Rin, she had done this for a reason. She wanted something only he could provide and he had failed to live up to her expectations. But he couldn't do that again. If the book had traced like Kiritsugu's he wouldn't have a problem but what he just went through was nothing short of torture. "If you give me a minute I can take those books back and tell you what I saw." He tried his best to fake a struggle in his voice.

"So you did see something? That's probably why you had a seizure and passed out again. Was it just like when you traced your father's journal?" she asked with her excitement barely contained.

"I didn't see much but I certainly heard quite a lot," he admitted, moving so he could at least sit on the floor. Being vertical definitely didn't help his nausea but he couldn't lie on the ground forever.

Rin knelt beside him, looking into his eyes with an emotion Shirou had never seen before. "Did you see my father at least? What did you learn?"

Pulling a hand up to hold the side of his head, Shirou closed one eye and tried to stop the room from spinning. "I think I saw your father. He was writing the book and thinking about a lot of things."

"Like what?" Rin blurted out, shuffling a bit closer. She seemed anxious and excited about something and Shirou could only guess as to why.

"It's hard to tell, there were a lot of voices and everything was blurry. He thought about you a lot, he wanted to see you grow up and he wanted you to have the best life possible." The Tohsaka opened her mouth a tad, blinking in surprise as her eyes seemed to glaze. "He seemed concerned about fighting in the War, and he was worried that he wouldn't make it out to see you grow up. He really cared for you, even if he couldn't show it with how busy he wa-" Shirou was silenced prematurely as Rin leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The contact seemed to ease the nausea and calmed his pounding headache. Shirou could have sworn he heard a sniffle as the girl tightly squeezed against him. Something he did understand whispered against his ear, was a "Thank you".

… … …

… … …

Shirou returned home hours later. He had put the books Rin brought out away and stayed a while to speak with her. Just as he was about to leave, Aoi made him stay a little longer for a cup of tea. Not wanting to be rude, he had taken up the offer. She asked him questions as he sipped. They started out normal: how he was doing, how his school work was coming along and if he was getting any better at magecraft. It was actually odd to hear questions regarding magecraft from a woman like Aoi. She seemed too peaceful and motherly which made her hard to picture in the harsh world of magi. The questions grew uncomfortable when Aoi started asking about Kiritsugu. Questions like, if he was married and how long he had been in Fuyuki. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was interested in the old man.

Shirou didn't want to think about any of that. The old man could fight his own battles as it was. Shirou had tried his best to be respectful and left peacefully as soon as he could get away without appearing rude.

Stepping through the door, he alerted his arrival and removed his shoes. Sliding around the corner, Illya appeared. "Shirou, that guy is on the news again!" Just as quickly as she had arrived, the girl bolted back to the dining room.

With some haste, Shirou followed behind her to watch the evening news. Over the last few weeks, stories about a serial kidnapper were becoming more and more common. Usually, younger girls under the age of fifteen were kidnapped after being left alone. They were only ever found again as a mutilated corpse two days later.

Whoever it was had apparently been kidnapping children for years. It was only now that the police had figured out it was all one person and decided to focus their attention on stopping the murders.

The news revealed little. They still had no idea what the killer looked like, their motives or even their range of operation. Kidnappings had been reported all across Shinto and Miyama. Today there was another missing child and another body found in a park. Only, that park was the one right beside their house. Which meant the kidnapper was in their area.

After the news changed subjects, a mourning silence followed. Kiritsugu slowly took a sip of coffee to try and hide his disgusted scowl. "I don't think they're ever going to be able to catch him."

"What makes you think that?" Shirou asked quizzingly, standing to go prepare a late dinner.

"Whoever it is has been doing this for years and has only just been discovered. Someone like that understands the game, they know where to hide and where the police will look for him," the old man summarized.

Shirou hated to admit it, but he was right. "Then maybe the police need some help."

There was a snort, then the light clatter of china as Kiritsugu set down his cup. "If that's you trying to subtly ask if you can become a vigilante, mission failed. Taking the law into your own hands puts you in extreme risk. The police will turn their attention to you and you won't be able to use magecraft to protect yourself." He stretched in his spot languidly before continuing. "If you were a skilled magus capable of hypnotism like Tohsaka, I actually wouldn't mind. Since you're not, it's far too risky. As much as I'd like to see that kidnapper taken care of, you're more important to me."

Shirou made a passive hum, gathering all he needed to prepare a quick dinner. Bazett walked in some time later, awkwardly trying to sit on a pillow around the table before being instructed to kneel. "Hey old man," Shirou began from the kitchen, pulling out his favourite knife. "You never told me how that thing of yours went."

The man in question had been finishing the last of his coffee. Setting It down, he paused as if trying to find the right words. "It went well, no trouble. Hopefully, there won't be issues in the future." His voice was calm and casual as it normally was, even though he basically admitted to murder in Shirou's mind.

"It's just unfortunate you had to take such drastic measures." Shirou shrugged, chopping green onions with a bit more ferocity than he had likely meant. "Pretty drastic if you ask me."

"I wouldn't call it drastic…a moderate response, really." The Magus Killer hummed, turning toward Bazett. Illya and the Irish woman were looking between the two with some confusion over the conversation.

"How was your rest?" It was interesting to have someone who _didn't_ know Japanese around the house. Shirou often started conversations in Japanese only to catch himself and restart in English. Everyone could understand and speak the western language, although only Kiritsugu and Taiga could be considered fluent.

"I'm still adjusting to a normal schedule. I used to work two jobs, one for the morning and one for the evening, so I'm not used to being so idle." The young woman reached up to scratch her eyes. Illya gave her an odd look.

"Why do you need to work _two_ jobs?" she asked innocently.

Giving the albino a firm look, Bazett leaned forward to place her arms on the table. "Kid, you've got a long way to go before you could even realize just how hard life is. First you have to go through high school, then you've got to find a job and pay all sorts of bills." The woman made a motion with her hand, letting out a huge breath at the same time.

Illya offered a bright smile with closed eyes. "I'm almost out of school."

Shirou thought he heard the crack of a whip as Bazett snapped to look at Illya. "What, like primary school? There's no way you're almost graduating secondary school." The foreign school terms confused Shirou but everyone else seemed to understand.

"I'm nineteen and I graduate in a couple months," Illya calmly replied, maintaining that devilish smile all the while. Bazett blinked before straightening and looking around for confirmation. The old man gave a short nod, holding a smile similar to his daughter's.

The more Shirou watched his father and sister, the more he realized the two shared a sadistic quality. They both enjoyed embarrassing and humiliating everyone around them, Shirou especially. "I was born on 1983, November 20th in Germany."

 _Born_ might have been a stretch, but Shirou wasn't supposed to know the truth. "She might look younger on account of a physical defect she suffers from. She hasn't grown much at all since she was eleven," Kiritsugu explained.

The girl in question nodded ecstatically, face turning into a bright smile Shirou was more familiar with. Bazett seemed stunned, eyebrows raised and mouth parted as she comprehended what had just been said. The redhead leaned forward and rested her head on top of her arms. "What did I get myself into?" she mumbled into the table.

Shirou snorted, turning his attention towards his cooking. Bazett was in for a surprise if she thought this was as strange as things could get around here.

… … …

… … …

Since Shirou hadn't fully repaired the gaping hole in his room, he had to sleep in another room. Although, sleeping wasn't his main concern at the moment.

After waiting an hour to ensure everyone had gone to sleep, he made his move. Sneaking through the house with a technique passed down from the Magus Killer himself, Shirou slipped into his sister's room and spotted her sleeping form.

Creeping up just to the side of her futon, Shirou kneeled and prepared his hands. Illya always looked so peaceful when she slept, the few times he had seen her asleep that was. It was a shame that he'd have to disrupt such a quiet rest. In a quick flash, he covered her mouth with one hand, the left, and used his other arm to press against her shoulders to keep her from squirming out of his grasp.

She tried of course, anybody woken up in the middle of the night would. Trying to get her to calm down, he began shushing her. Gradually her flailing ceased but she still glared up at him in terror. "I have something important I need to talk to you about," he whispered, entirely serious.

She mumbled something against his hand, wrapping her digits around his wrist to indicate she wouldn't scream. Cautiously, Shirou removed his hand to find she was telling the truth. "What's so important?" Illya whispered, sitting up as Shirou lifted the arm holding her down.

"You know that kidnapper on the news?" She nodded, scrunching up her face in confusion. "I have a plan to get rid of him, but I need your help."

Immediately, Illya beamed happily. "You need your cute little sister to help you in something?"

Shirou nodded. "I'm so glad you worded it that way. I need you to be the bait." The albino girl paled even further, giving her brother a gobsmacked expression. Shirou caught the rise of her chest and he quickly reached to cover her mouth before she could scream. Muffled against his hand, she couldn't make very much noise.

"Be quiet!" Warily, Shirou looked towards the door as if the old man might burst through at any moment. "I don't want Kiritsugu waking up, we need to do this without him knowing." Illya strained to breathe properly with her mouth obstructed, wrapping her hand around his wrist once again. This time, Shirou held firm for as moment, leaning closer so he didn't have to raise his voice so much. "We have to go right now, to the playground we used to visit a few blocks south. The kidnapper is likely trying to make one last hit before going off the radar for a while so this might be our only chance for a while to stop them."

In Shirou's mind, the plan was flawless. Illya would act as a young girl playing alone at night to attract the attention of the kidnapper. When he moved to take her away, she would distract or scare him off with Engel Note while Shirou moved in to personally _kill_ the man himself. While he absolutely despised murder, sometimes truly evil beings couldn't be saved. Sometimes they _had_ to be put down. Stories Kiritsugu had told him and the memories trapped in the old man's journal had revealed evidence of that long ago. Sometimes the consequence of preserving an evil life resulted in the loss of innocent lives.

Illya mumbled against his hand, breaking him from his depressing line of thought. Carefully, he removed his hand. "What do you need me to do?"

… … …

The night was rather chilling to Shirou. It was January, Japan's coldest month. This year had been devoid of snow, unlike the last few years. With the swinging hot and cold temperatures it simply didn't stick. Illya had seemed depressed, but Shirou was incredibly thankful to whatever deity controlled the weather. Even though shovelling snow could be considered housekeeping, Shirou despised the chore. Maybe it was because of the cold. Having to balance the chill against his skin with the heat within his body from the act of shovelling was tedious. Even without snow, a cold, humid scent lingered in the air. A reminder of the season if nothing else.

To counter the chill, Shirou had thrown on a simple black windbreaker. Evident by the cold air streaming down his neck, it wasn't doing its job very well. Even though he was freezing, Illya hadn't even bothered to take a coat. She had been so brazen as to ask why it wasn't _colder_. For a demon from the pits of Hell, she sure enjoyed the cold.

To go along with their plan, the homunculus had decided to wear something much more childish from her old clothing. Since she had hardly grown over eight years, most of it still fit. It was a bright purple ensemble that was barely duller than her normal attire. Once they were both ready, the two slinked out of the house and covered the plan on the way over.

Illya had thought of a more efficient rendition of Shirou's plan. She could just use Engel Note to bind the kidnapper in place and finish him herself with Degen. Shirou would just act as overwatch with his skills as an archer. Even before Homurahara, he had been practicing with every type of bow he could get his hands on. The English longbow, the Japanese yumi, and recently, a recurve bow Kiritsugu had given him as a gift after first joining Archery Club. Shirou had appreciated the gift but found the modern bow to be lacking in power and elegance.

It had taken a considerable amount of effort and dedication, but Shirou had reached the point where he could accurately hit a standard target with only a few inches spread from two hundred meters. During his training, if he had missed the very center of the bullseye - even by an inch - he made five more shots as self-punishment to forcefully correct himself. Electing not to wear vambraces, he had flayed the skin of his forearms more than a dozen times in a desperate vie for perfection. After experiencing the wound so often, the pain hardly affected him anymore.

Illya had berated him for torturing himself but Kiritsugu had admired his persistence and pointed out that Shirou might have to use a bow after sustaining an injury to the arms. The old man had some logic in his words. If he never practiced for such a scenario, it might spell his defeat in an important battle.

Back to the matter at hand, Shirou had taken his imported English longbow made of yew. He hadn't bothered to bring an arrow as he could simply trace one to use or more in the off chance that he missed. He was perched atop the only two-storey building this side of Fuyuki. Shirou had guessed it to be about a hundred forty meters out and a quick tracing cut that number down to one-thirty-six. From here, he could see the majority of the playground easily. More importantly, he had a good line on Illya who was currently using the swingset, giggling loudly to assist in attracting the kidnapper.

A half hour had already passed with no results and Shirou was contracting a fierce chill. Maybe they were too late, perhaps the kidnapper watched the news and had retreated into a safehouse after this most recent hit. It would certainly be the wise thing to do. Either way, he would wait until Illya decided she was tired. Personally, he would wait for as long as it took. It didn't matter how he felt or how uncomfortable he was. That kidnapper needed to be stopped before any more children were hurt.

There was a shift in the darkness towards the far end of the park. Shirou squinted to try and see something but found empty space. Nothing was there, but something definitely had been. He was sure of it. Mumbling words under his breath, the tracing aria began and the image of an arrow leapt into his mind. While modern bows were quite lacking, modern arrows were definitely a leap in the right direction compared to their ancestors. With a three-blade broadhead, a carbon fibre-aluminum shaft and offset plastic vanes, the arrow was as perfect as could be. Reinforcement only served to make it _better_. Placing his fingers on the nock, the arrow materialized in place with golden sparks.

Shirou was prepared now, although nothing seemed to heed his readiness. Illya was still enjoying herself on the swings and nobody seemed to be coming. That didn't discourage him from dropping his guard, but it certainly made him wonder if anything beyond shifty shadows would reveal themselves.

Ten minutes passed agonizingly. During this time, Illya moved to the monkey bars and was clambering around the entire playset. The bow in Shirou's hand lowered for a moment, then was suddenly brought up as something purple caught his eye. It was difficult to see so far in the night, but someone with bright orange hair and a purple coat was casually walking toward the playground.

Breathing the chilled air deeply, the boy raised his weapon level to his eye and put tension on the bowstring. He had to wait. There was no telling who or what this unknown person had planned. For all he knew, they were a good samaritan coming to see why a little girl was playing unattended in the park at night. It didn't stop him from tracing the distance and discerning atmospheric conditions. It was good to be prepared.

The purple figure moved closer, casually walking towards the giggling girl entertaining herself. With about twenty-five feet between them, the figure stopped and made a waving motion with one hand. Illya stopped playing and took notice, closing the distance to ten feet.

He wished he could hear the conversation. If he could hear him speak and hear the fine details in his words, he might be able to conclude that they were the kidnapper. Squinting, Shirou tried to pick up on subtle features. He would put money on the figure being a man, if only based on the clothing and the fact that their shoulders were wider than their hips.

This man reached into his coat and pulled out something. Whatever it was made Illya flinch so hard he could see it from here. He held it outstretched and his sister took one step forward. If this man was the kidnapper, she would have used Engel Note on him, right? Panic settled into his mind all at once, washing over his body like a crushing wave that seemed to add ten pounds. Illya was a smart girl, she could pick out liars-

Wait, that wasn't Illya. Illya could only tell when he and Kiritsugu were lying. She was terrible at trying to figure out if someone else was. A strange sort of numbness descended over his body. How could he have been so stupid? Why would he let the most naive and innocent person he knew try to act as a spy?

Bow and string creaked in tandem as they were drawn methodically. Releasing a breath as the arrowhead touched wood, Shirou paused. There were a lot of things going through his mind to stop him. The fact that if he missed, he would spear Illya. The fact that this would be his first kill, the fact that this man might not even be the kidnapper. If Shirou's gut feeling was wrong, he'd be killing an innocent man.

The yew groaned in strain over having to hold a hundred and forty pounds of tension. Unlocking his arm, he slowly released the string. Unless he was sure, he couldn't commit. Even if there would be no evidence of the event, Shirou wouldn't be able to live with killing an innocent man. So he couldn't fire the arrow until he was absolutely sure. If the old man were here, he'd have berated Shirou for being too passive.

In the distance, Illya cautiously stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the strange man. She continued creeping forward until she was almost within arms reach. The man responded by handing over what was in his hand. A few seconds passed and he even took a step back as she turned the object over a few times.

Then Illya collapsed.

Shirou had seen it from this distance. One moment she was standing looking at the thing in her hands and the next she was falling like a sack of potatoes. Eyes widening, he yanked the string back and lined up the shot.

But it was too late. The man had already scooped her up from the ground and was slowly walking backwards from the park. Shirou was unable to make the shot again. Not because of his morals, but because of the high chance of hitting his sister.

Cursing to the wind, he let down the bow once again, allowing the arrow to dematerialize. There wasn't time to think, he had to get to her as soon as possible. Throwing the bow onto his back, he ran a quick reinforcement through his entire body and carelessly vaulted over the parapet. To a normal human, a two-storey fall meant broken bones. For a reinforced magus it just meant a considerable amount of pain. Landing on the hard concrete, shooting pains stabbed up from his feet but that didn't stop him for a second. Pushing his legs to the limit, Shirou bolted towards the playground. It was only a few blocks away. A left turn at the end of this block would lead him straight there. The kidnapper was only walking so catching up should be easy, right?

Using a streetlamp as a pivot to round the corner, Shirou sped down the road and carried onto the grass surrounding the playground. Taking a large breath, he scanned the area to try and find the man in purple.

Nobody was here, the man had vanished without so much as a trace. A sense of dread settled into the back of Shirou's mind. Illya was unconscious in the clutches of a serial killer which was anything but good. Mind racing, he moved to where he had last seen the two. He needed clues, a trail to follow. Footprints were out of the question. They could be followed through the grass of the park but once the man reached pavement, his trail would go cold. Scent was possible, but with the light breeze, it was liable to fade away or send him in the wrong direction. Neither of the two were bleeding so blood trails were also out.

He was out of options and was running out of time. There was no telling how quickly this kidnapper could move or how long he would wait to kill Illya. Striding up to the spot where Illya first passed out, Shirou spotted something black lying in the grass. A plush toy designed to the cute likeness of a raven.

A quick trace revealed the plush was soaked in halothane, a powerful anesthetic.

* * *

 **-Insert evil laugh here-**

 **Oh, how the pieces click together. A lovingly crafted butterfly effect that might disrupt the Fifth War long before it ever even begins. Didn't think you'd see _him_ after all this time, did you? Before everyone strikes up reviews claiming inaccuracies, I'm going to explain what precisely transpired here in the next chapter, give me until then to bite my head off.**

 **There might have been an entirely different reason for me to not include Illya as a potential love interest... :}**

 **In the meanwhile, to take the edge off things, I have another question: do you believe the Magus Killer should have another chance at a family? As in, a loving wife and happy children? Recommend potential suitors for the old man if you want. Mainly consider if the man who sacrifices everything for the _greater good_ should have a proper family once again, or if you think he even _wants_ a family.**


	12. Metal Marrow

**EDIT:** **Myself? I'm just Berix, a friendly neighbourhood editor for all of SWG's forgotten chapters.**

 **Hello everyone, a decent sized chapter after a long wait, hopefully that will lessen your anger at having nineteen days of anxious waiting at the edge of a cliffhanger. Well, today you finally get to jump although the ground below might not be what you expected.**

 **Both myself and my beta (Talndir, best beta I could have asked for btw) have been swamped with various life things so that's the main reason for the delay. Regardless, we're both happy to let this carefully crafted chapter out.**

 **Before the loremasters bite my head off, understand that everything in this chapter has been _carefully_ thought out as to not break the entire story or introduce elements that just shouldn't be there. Remember that everything happens for a reason and that not everything sticks.**

 **Anywho, enjoy. :)**

* * *

He had no trails, no leads, nothing. The kidnapper was gone and each passing second made locating him harder. Shirou was up the metaphorical creek without a paddle. Oh, who was he kidding? At this point, he didn't even have a canoe. He had followed the footsteps to the start of the pavement where his only lead abruptly ended. If Shirou had to guess, the kidnapper likely went down the alleyway just ahead. He had no idea how smart the kidnapper was. If he was operating on Kiritsugu's level, he would have avoided the most obvious and preferable option to take an unexpected route where he wouldn't be followed. There were too many options and Shirou had no way to narrow things down.

The golden sheath of Avalon suddenly illuminated the interior of his mind. Curious, Shirou tried to determine what it wanted. He wasn't doing anything special, there was no reason for it to be acting up. "What's your problem? Can't you see I'm dealing with something else here?"

The sheath flickered. Did it want to be traced? Right now of all times? Testing his hypothesis, Shirou thought about _tracing_ and the light from the sheath flashed. Thinking about projecting the sheath itself bore no such results. "Trace… Trace…" Shirou mumbled, looking around as if someone or something nearby would have the answer. "Trace Illya?" he asked, uncertain on what the artifact wanted.

He couldn't trace Illya, tracing had to be done on seen or touched objects. Maybe it wanted him to think about what he knew about Illya because he had traced her before. Magic circuits had been embedded just beneath the skin across her entire body, her organs were deteriorating at an accelerated rate and had the appearance of someone who was sixty already and for how much mana she stored, her signature was low. With each major point, Avalon idly hummed along in his body until he reached the last feature. After considering her mana-capacity, an odd warmth blossomed from deep within his chest, a foreign but simultaneously pleasant feeling.

Something about her signature? Her signature and tracing… Shirou shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Being so tense and prepared without anywhere to move was making him sore. A little under two minutes had passed since he'd last seen Illya and there was no telling how far away she could be at this point. He couldn't trace mana signatures, but did he even have to?

He could trace the ground and see where high concentrations of mana were located. When Illya wasn't repressing her signature consciously, she was practically a beacon of energy. In theory, it would be easy to find her this way. Tracing the air might have been more intuitive but trying to trace gases or even liquids was extremely difficult. Since both states were constantly changing, their data had to be recorded continually to keep it recent. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that their composition was usually a very specific blend of minute things. Shirou had almost had an aneurysm the one time he'd tried to trace the air around him. He really should have paid more attention in science when learning about atmospheric compositions.

The ground was his only option. Bending down, he closed his eyes. The hammer of his father's gun slammed into position, imaginary explosion setting his circuits alight. A shout of the first line of his aria sent seething pain into his skull. He quickly limited the trace to just below the surface so his brain didn't explode trying to trace everything from the crust to the Earth's core.

While limited in scope, the information stream was intense. It wasn't to the level of Kiritsugu's journal - of which he based everything he traced - so it certainly wasn't fatal. The pain was equivalent to jamming a burning rod into the base of his neck. It was on the same level as converting his nerves into circuits.

Scrunching his face and gritting his teeth, he focused on trying to find mana concentrations. Three large signatures became apparent. One to the west, one to the east and two to the south. The southern ones were undoubtedly the bounded fields of the Tohsaka and Matou manors. The Emiya field did not appear simply because its meticulous construction allowed it to be near invisible. Based on the western signal's awe-inspiring size and powerful, clean concentration, it was Ryuudou Temple. The eastern signature was moving, and rather quickly as well.

It was at this point that Shirou thanked Rin for teaching him magecraft for all these years. Using what he knew about mana, Od and both of their respective properties, Shirou could essentially track Illya by following the trail of mana she released over time. Due to the fact that mana generated within the body, Od, diffused over time, magi left a signature which could easily be found through tracing. Since Illya was quite literally a massive battery of stored mana, she diffused it at an incredible rate and practically coated her surroundings with mana when she wasn't consciously making an effort to minimize her signature.

To Shirou's tracing, she was a large splotch in the distance. Locking the traced image into his mind, he shot forward like a bullet. The kidnapper was a little under half a kilometre away, not too far for someone moving nearly twice as fast as an Olympic sprinter. Upon reaching the location he'd sensed her to be, Shirou came across absolutely nothing. Repeating the tracing process, he found the signature had taken a skewed path two hundred meters to the northeast.

Shirou stood and had to pause for a second as a pounding headache pierced through his skull. This was progressively killing him each time, wasn't it? A third or fourth time might put him out of commission. Looking towards the last known location of the kidnapper, Shirou roughly calculated distances and decided on his path. Reinforcing his legs further, he chose the path and quite literally leapt to claim it.

With a powerful magically-enhanced jump, Shirou cleared sixteen feet and landed on the roof of a house. Trying to move around winding corners would slow him down in the long run, a straight line was much faster. With the compact design of Japanese houses, Shirou was able to rapidly close the distance between him and the kidnapper by leaping across the roofs of buildings. From this vantage point, Shirou could see his traced point. It was on a larger street which cut east and west. He was heading east, toward the red bridge between Miyama and Shinto. With a hop, he left the roof and landed on the sidewalk. He paused to look around, trying to discern where his target went. Shirou didn't want to trace the ground again if he didn't have to, but unless the kidnapper leapt out from around the corner within a few seconds,, he would have no choice.

One second passed while steaming breath poured out of his mouth and body. There was a considerable amount of heat being generated by his circuits. Deciding to do something idiotic, Shirou took a moment to reinforce his eyes. It was a very intricate procedure on account of the eye's complexity but with Shirou's proficiency, the task was only marginally more difficult than any other part of his body.

Immediately, the night grew brighter and objects that had been blurred became clear as could be. Items he focused on in the distance actually became magnified like he was peering through a rifle scope. Shirou scanned over an alleyway across the street and took a couple of seconds to look over the area. He would have to trace the ground once more if he took any longer. He wasn't going to jeopardize Illya's safety to lessen the burden on himself.

Then, in the alleyway, something caught his eye. A snow-white strand of hair lying on the ground. He would have missed it if he hadn't scoured the area with his reinforced eyes. Launching off like a bullet, Shirou crossed the street and slid into the alleyway. At the far end, a shoe rounding the corner told him he was heading in the right direction. Chasing after his target, a strange noise barely reached his ears.

With the pounding in his head and the heaving of his lungs, he couldn't really tell what it was, it might have just been the kidnapper panting from his run or his shoes on the concrete below. Shirou would need to turn soon but slowing down would make catching up all that much harder. With quick thinking, he braced his shoulder and slammed into the far wall in an attempt at transferring some of his momentum. Bouncing off the brick, Shirou rapidly realized that nobody was here.

This alley was a half-block long, there was no possible way a normal human could have cleared that distance in the time it took Shirou to get to this corner. Gradually slowing down, Shirou paused and examined the area. There were no ladders or ways up, so where had the man gone? He let the reinforcement in his eyes go away, normal vision returning on cue.

Forward was out, as were up and sideways. Did the kidnapper become a mole and dig through concrete? Turning back to where he came, a doorway subtly set in the corner caught his attention. It was a rusted, yellow metal thing that seemed oddly befitting for a serial killer.

It opened outwards, which meant kicking it down wasn't likely to happen. He could pound out the hinges with a hammer and screwdriver but that would take too long. Shirou didn't know Kiritsugu's spell which unlocked doors either, but there was another trick up his sleeve he _did_ have access to.

Placing his hand on the door, the wireframe shape leapt to mind. Alteration could do an incredible number of things, from adjusting or altering the outline to completely rewriting the material composition. The latter was too costly in terms of mana, so he elected for the former. Most of the material making up the door was moved to the edges to leave the center as a weak point. When Shirou was finished, a large portion of the middle had been made as thin as aluminum foil.

With an open palm, he struck just above the centre and much of the door exploded into flakes of rust. A decently-sized gap now allowed him access into a dimly lit staircase. A pale yellow glow originated deeper within to keep things just above pitch black.

With some difficulty, Shirou squeezed himself through and practically glided down the stairs to the basement. The room he entered was small, dimly lit and impossibly clean. It was far from incriminating, but suspicious all the same. Had he gone the wrong way? What other route could the kidnapper have taken? It was very sparsely furnished - two cheap metal chairs and matching table, the latter of which held a purple coat and a small battery-operated radio.

Three doors were in this small room. If the staircase was to the rear, two doors sat straight ahead and one was on the right. Whichever one he chose had equal chances to be correct, so he'd go through them all if he had to. Taking the farthest door which was ahead and to the left, Shirou roughly kicked just below the handle. As this one was made of wood, it easily fell to his efforts.

The sight inside immediately etched itself into his brain. While illuminated only by a single half-dead bulb hanging limply from a cord in the center of the room, it was certainly enough to reveal the contents. Dozens of mutilated corpses. Old, young, large and small were compiled together in a single room, forgotten or mercifully cast aside by their tormentor. Immediate nausea struck Shirou, bile rising in his throat only to be repressed through will and purpose alone. It was a repulsive agglomeration of mutilated corpses. One was skinned from head to toe, another was missing all of their limbs and was hanging upside down from a meat hook. A few were crucified to the walls and some had even been burnt to blackened husks. An inadvertent trace revealed they had died of dehydration, meaning they had suffered the pain of a slow death as they witnessed more and more bodies fill the space. An unbearable smell of copper, feces and decaying flesh flowed continuously from the room.

There were twenty-three bodies in total, fourteen women and nine men, eleven were under the age of thirteen and one was _alive_. Based on her position at the front of the pile, she was the most recent _addition_ to this aberrant collection. Her condition was dire. Broken bones throughout her entire body and multiple lacerations along her back. She was still breathing, although her collapsing blood pressure and weak pulse signified that she wouldn't be for very long.

This wasn't the room he was looking for, Illya wasn't here, but his body felt obligated to help the survivor. He had been someone in a state like this before, without hope and without a saviour. If Kiritsugu had passed him by or had deemed him too far gone to save, Shirou wouldn't be alive today.

Not allowing himself to waste more time, Shirou closed his eyes and reached inside himself for a familiar blueprint. Shirou had no spells capable of healing someone in this state, but who needed healing spells anyway? Four seconds passed as he quickly rattled off his tracing aria. When he was finished, golden sparks appeared above his hand, descending downwards as the gleaming form of Avalon became reality.

It was a copy, sure, but it held all the properties of the real thing. In theory, the girl would at least stay alive long enough for Shirou to get her to appropriate help. Leaving the wounded - but stabilized - woman alone, Shirou moved to the next door and repeated the process of kicking it in.

It was a bathroom, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Congealed and dried blood seemed to stain every surface. Hanging off the sink was a freshly bloodied scalpel, a memento of atrocities and suffering.

With only one option left, Shirou bashed his shoulder into and through the last remaining door. This room was the largest he had encountered, double the size of the body storage room at the very least. The setup was very rudimentary; a large oak table sat dead center, illuminated by a hanging incandescent lamp and nothing else. Dirtied medical curtains surrounded the area, torn and splattered with bodily fluids that reeked in a repugnant, decomposing way. Whether the staining fluid had originally been red and turned brown through decay or had been brown to begin with was up to debate.

Illya was laid out on the operating table, specifically on a plastic sheet that had unceremoniously been draped over it to preserve some semblance of cleanliness. She seemed to be in a state between conscious and unconscious - too far gone mentally to put up any resistance, but alive enough to feel everything that would be done to her. Half-lidded eyes seemed to flicker at his appearance, recognizing who he was and what he represented but unable to respond properly. Like her body was captured in a thick gel, she extended one hand palm-up toward him.

Everything began to move slowly, adrenalin production kicking his body into an eerily focused state. The man, the kidnapper, stood across the table directly ahead. He was so absorbed with himself that he hadn't even noticed Shirou had burst through the door. Bright orange hair and black, hollow eyes that seemed to sparkle in anticipation of what was coming. His face was sharp with discreet, intricate features split wide in a manic smile. On each ear, a simple silver stud added some flair to the otherwise plain features.

Naturally moving away from identifying the threat, Shirou realized that Illya's clothing had been removed in one way or another. That was far from the most noticeable part of this scenario, however. Shirou's eyes had locked onto the glint of cold steel. The kidnapper was leaning over her with a scalpel in hand, peering down at the surface of her skin like a child eagerly awaiting the opening of a gift. A hollow laugh filled the room as he grazed the surface of her chest with the precision of a surgeon.

As the first trickle of scarlet fluid reached Shirou's eyes, something inside him snapped. Every barricade that held him back, that forced his thoughts to remain on the side of "good" vanished instantaneously. An emotion stronger than anything he had ever felt cascaded through him. At that moment, he had changed. It was almost as if he had become a spectator in his own body. Someone else was taking the controls and they were far from pacifistic.

… …. ….

" **Ǐ̴͔̮͓͑̌͠ ̸̫̮̫̄̇̕à̶̡̱̲̔̀̾-̵̝͓̾͜ ̴̨͐̆̉̃͑̕t̸̗͗͘h̶̜̀̿͗̈̕ȩ̵͔̼͕͈͙̊̇̓̓̕͠ ̷̰͎͗̏̓͝b̴̻̥̩̅-̵͚̦̼͐̀̍n̸̳̙̰̰̓̈́͗͌̇e̷͓̯͖̓̑͂͒͠ ̵͙̫̣̿̀ò̸̗̦͚̫̅̋ͅf̵̖͕̞͒͛͝ ̷̭̰͈̑m̷̡̛̻̩̺̲̳̀͗̎͒͠y̸̛͉̰͎̙̬ͅ ̷̔̇̋̉̚͝ͅ-̴̨̐̀-̷̜͉͉̦̺̀o̴̤͆̾̀̓͝͝-̸̧̛̪̙̿̀d̵͈̜̩̒̐͗́̄"**

… … …

Coursing pain shot through his skull, but he hardly recognized it. In his eyes, the world had faded away. The walls had become covered in overwhelming flames, unbearable heat filled the air and metronomic pounding of hot iron flooded his ears. Shirou hadn't even noticed the blades materializing in the world around him. Had he even gone through the process of their creation or had they simply appeared from the air?

The first struck the kidnapper's hand with such velocity that the appendage actually severed from the wrist. Before the murderer could even realize that something had happened, another blade struck his shoulder, sending him away from the table. Surprisingly, he maintained his balance and merely stumbled back.

Autonomously, like a machine programmed to kill, Shirou strode forward. The kidnapper was studying his severed limb, turning it over and bringing it close to his face as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened. With simple grace, Shirou vaulted over the table and Illya to land on the other side. Reinforcing his body to the extreme, he leaned back to deliver a powerful side kick to the pommel of the impaled blade.

The kidnapper was thrown back against the wall and the blade impaled itself to the hilt. He was effectively pinned in place now, being hung a foot off the floor from his shoulder. There was a brief moment of shock on his face before it turned into a sickly smile. He looked over himself and began to speak, but Shirou couldn't hear a word. The endless pounding in his head had overridden his ears and rendered him deaf.

The forging of steel was too great a sound to comprehend anything else. There was an external pull, a force alongside this forging noise that compelled him to craft endless blades.

Blades appeared from all around him in an instant. Nameless weapons that served a single purpose. With surprising speed, they impaled the man at his every joint, affixing him to the wall and effectively converting him into a twisted science experiment. Shirou watched the man's mouth move and could see a strange sparkle in his cold eyes, but it meant nothing to Shirou. He had taken Illya away, he had hurt her and made her bleed, he would suffer, he had to suffer. Shirou would kill him and would make his death painful-

 _But that was wrong, killing is immoral isn't it? Could he really kill a man?_

 _ **Yes.**_

A blade that formed in Shirou's waiting hand had already begun moving, planting itself in the man's hip. The initial strike was without great force so it sheared against the thick hip bone and served only to slice off a chunk of flesh. The next stab was lower and held enough power to shatter his femur. The blade itself actually fragmented like the bone it struck. Without pausing to think, the blade in his hand dematerialized in a puff of blue mist. In a fraction of a second, another identical copy filled his hand to stab once more.

… … …

… … …

Shirou had no idea how long he had butchered that man. Everything had become a red-haze and time became impossible to comprehend. It could have only been minutes, but it certainly looked like hours. The kidnapper, what was left of him, couldn't be called human any longer. He was a mass of ground meat barely positioned to be humanoid in shape alone. Shards of bone, strands of muscle and bits of torn skin were all that indicated what species it had once belonged to. It was almost like he had been pulverized or crushed against the wall. Two earring studs, a thin silver chain and leopard-print shoes were the only remaining pieces of identification.

Shirou himself was a bloodied mess. Crimson coated his chest, it was on his face and in his hair and it steadily dripped from his arms and hands. It was like he had just walked off the set of a terrible horror movie. Looking himself over further, he noticed the blade still in his hand.

It had been broken in half but that obviously hadn't stopped him from using it. The entire surface of the blade, from tip to pommel, was drenched. When he peeled his hand off the grip, the space underneath was absolutely clean. His grip has been so tight that not a single drop of blood had touched the handle beneath his fingers.

The blade clattered with a splash on the bloody floor before dematerializing in a wisp of blue mist. Shirou, just now realizing how heavily he was panting, looked at both of his hands as if confirming that he was here, that he was in control again.

He had done this, he had obliterated another human being without a shred of mercy, without any regrets. It was strange that he couldn't remember anything after coming through that door. From that point on, everything was fuzzy until now. Should he be thankful for his lack of memory or terrified by what it meant? With one question, came a multitude of others. What had this man even looked like before? Had he been terrified? Had he begged for his life or asked for salvation? What reason did he have for killing all those people? Shirou would never know. Those answers were either locked away by his own mind or they had died with the kidnapper.

His hands slowly clenched into fists, shaking as he tried to rationalize his actions. He had murdered another man but it had been for good reason, right? This wasn't a bloodthirsty kill or murder…so why did his mind continue to call it such? Would he become a monster like this man? He had so many questions and Shirou could almost feel his sanity and humanity slipping out of his grasp. Something in him wanted to scream to release his pent-up emotions, but another part held him back.

A warmth suddenly touched his back and began spreading through his body. The warmth paused for a moment before landing on his hand and snapping his mind from its inner turmoil. Turning, he found Illya, staring up at him with empty eyes. The usual happiness and hope within them had been extinguished, replaced with a sense of dissociation. She was trying to appear as emotionless as possible, an emulation of their father, the Magus Killer.

"I'm alright," she whispered. Her eyes promptly relit themselves with emotion and tears began filling the corners. More than anything, he wanted to hug her tight to tell her everything was alright now. Shirou's mind stopped him, offering a reminder that he was covered in someone else's blood. Illya had been through enough, being smeared with blood probably wouldn't do her any good. The first tear trickled down her face and she tentatively moved to hug him from behind. "You don't have to be mad anymore, I'm not hurt, see?" she sobbed, pressing her face against his back.

"I'm…" He paused. He was a lot of things now: a murderer, uncontrollable, inhuman. He swallowed thickly, noticing his mouth was painfully dry. "I'm just glad you're okay." His voice was hoarse, his throat in slight pain from all the heavy breathing he had done.

"So go back to normal, okay? There's nobody here that could hurt us anymore." She squeezed tight against him, shaking him slightly with her sobs. Back to normal? What did she mean by that? He tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves but a sudden pain hitched his breath.

Looked down at his chest, where the pain originated, dread washed over him. He had been stabbed in the heart at some point. He hadn't even noticed that a scalpel had embedded itself four inches into his chest to precisely sever his aorta. The damage to his heart wasn't even his source of concern. What horrified Shirou was the fact that his wound had healed itself. Not with flesh or bone, but _steel_. Latticed, sharpened metal sheets had closed the wound and sealed his heart so that it could still function properly. The metal was bare of blood and actually shimmered in the dim glow of the room. If the slow expansion was anything to go off, this was some sort of cancerous growth that was progressively spreading through his body. He could visibly watch the expansion of this new blade-flesh.

With his emotions and the adrenalin fading away, pain became apparent. Each breath stretched the blade-skin and made his body feel as if it were being cut a thousand times. There was even a slight pulsing pain to each heartbeat. The repaired muscle was still pumping blood and each motion stabbed those latticed blades into soft flesh. Tracing himself, Shirou was relieved to see that this wasn't a very deep infection. It had only affected the area he was wounded and spreading relatively slowly. Something strange he noticed, was that his circuits were still active and that they were supplying mana to _something_. With a thought, they deactivated and the blades sealing his body faded away in golden sparks.

Shirou breathed a sigh of relief. If that hadn't worked, he had no idea what he would do. A warming glow spread through his body once again and the wound stitched itself together with fibrous strings of his own flesh. Illya was healing him, she had been since she'd first approached him. His affliction must have scared her as much as it had him.

"Illya...is there anything you can do to clean me up?" he asked quietly. A short noise of agreement followed and the pale blue glow of Engel Note bathed the area. The magical string swirled around his figure and applied a slight pressure as it slowly moved upwards. There was a cooling sensation as the blood was absorbed into the magical construct. With his body cleaned up as good as it could be, Shirou quickly turned and knelt to embrace his sister tightly.

"I'm so glad you're alright." Illya sniffled against him, wrapping her own arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. She tried to speak, but her words were broken by her sobs, shivering and shaking against him while nuzzling her head against his shoulder.

"I promised to you and Kiritsugu that I wouldn't let anybody hurt you," Shirou began, closing his eyes tight. "I failed today, but I won't let it ever happen again, alright?"

She nodded against him, turning to sniffling as her sobs tapered off. Shirou broke the embrace to stand, pausing only to give his sister's tear-stained face a sad look. Shirou moved past her and felt his hand suddenly being held by the girl. She wasn't holding him back, she was just keeping a grip on him to comfort herself.

Exiting the operating room, Shirou pointed to the stairs with his other hand. "Go up the stairs, I don't want you to see inside the other rooms." Releasing his hand, she followed his orders and carefully climbed up the dark stairway. He took a detour, going to the corpse room to collect the injured woman. Giving her a brief trace, Shirou found that most of her major injuries had healed. He must have been in that room for some time. Most of her broken bones had set and stitched themselves together. Even the cuts on her back from the whippings had sealed themselves. Some of the more minor broken bones were still broken but they were steadily being repaired.

At the very least she could be moved without worry of death or bleeding out. Carefully, Shirou picked the woman up bridal style and moved to rejoin Illya on the stairs. Thankfully, the woman was still unconscious. Trying to explain the entire situation to her while simultaneously hauling her somewhere safe would have been excruciatingly difficult.

Clambering upstairs was a little harder than he remembered with someone in his arms, but he managed well enough. Illya was patiently waiting for him at the top of the stairs just before the door. With the natural moonlight illuminating the area, Shirou could actually give her a good look-over. She was wearing the childish outfit she had picked out earlier, although it had been altered slightly. The kidnapper had carelessly cut her clothing straight down the center and to preserve her modesty, Illya had used a strand of Engel Note as makeshift stitching. The string was cross-stitched directly down her center from neck to hip and it provided a pale blue glow in the night.

Every time she looked towards him, fear washed through her body and glimmered in her eyes. At least she had stopped crying, at least she was safe. If killing innocent people and becoming a monster was what it took to protect Illya, he would do it without a second thought. As he considered this, searing pain shot through his skull. Deep in his mind, the steady radiance of Avalon pulled away and sent a chill down his spine. The artifact hadn't appreciated that thought in the slightest.

Rightly so, considering what it was supposed to represent. Not many holy relics appreciated the thought of senseless innocent murder. Even if it was in defence of a loved one, murder was just that.

Grumbling to himself, Shirou cautiously clambered through the hole in the door. Illya looked lost, peering around and shuffling uncertainly. "Where are we?" she asked softly, looking up to the sky as if it held the answer.

"Ten blocks from the park. I don't know how he moved faster than I could keep up but somehow he did," Shirou commented, motioning with his head for her to follow.

"You didn't hear what he said?" Illya aske, voice surprised.

"What do you mean? He didn't say anything. I killed him and that was it." Shirou furrowed his brow, mind absolutely blank.

"What are you talking about?" The homunculus suddenly shouted, voice full of shock. "When you stuck him to the wall, you were standing there listening for five minutes!" Shirou stopped, scrunching up his face as her words reached his mind. He thought back to that moment, to when he had leapt over the operating table. He had killed him a few seconds, hadn't he?

The entire event seemed blurry in his head and trying to delve deeper brought on a fierce headache. Come to think of it, he couldn't even recall _how_ he'd killed the kidnapper. "I don't remember," he decided to mumble, continuing his walk back home. Something caught his jacket, body instinctively stopping.

"Don't say that." There was a sobbing noise from behind and the hand holding onto him shook once. "Don't say you don't remember, you were looking right at him so you had to hear…" She trailed off, sniffling loudly. "You're not a monster, you saved me and this girl. You aren't someone who kills just for fun but if you didn't listen to him…" She trailed off. Shirou could fill the blanks, and he didn't like what was being implied.

He continued walking, forcing the thought from his mind. "We're going home. We'll make sure this girl is alright and find out what she knows before letting her go," he explained, turning down the alley.

The hand on his back dropped off and there were a few distant sniffles before quick footfalls neared and the soft pressure of a hand on his jacket returned. After a few choppy, cry-laden breaths, a soft voice cut through the silence of the night: "Thank you."

… … …

… … …

Thankfully, Kiritsugu wasn't waiting for them when they returned. Shirou made sure to enter just as quietly as he had left and without saying a word, the two separated and went to their own rooms. Since Shirou was holding onto a girl in his arms, he had to open the door to his room with the back of his foot, awkwardly pushing it open and stumbling backwards before turning around.

The first thing he noticed was that the wall had been fully repaired. Shirou had only gotten it half done yesterday, so who had finished the rest? The second thing Shirou noticed, was the very irate-looking man standing with his back against that very same wall.

With eloquence passed down from his father and the ever-respectful Tohsaka, Shirou let out a very bland "shit" upon discovering he had been found out.

"I had expected you to do something stupid but I hadn't expected this. I told you not to go after that kidnapper and you still disobeyed me." The Magus Killer pointed an accusing finger towards his son, eyes as sharp as daggers and voice as cold as the night. "I know you don't care about yourself, but you should at least care about Illya. Can't you see how much danger you put her in by taking her with you?"

Shirou flinched. Not only had he endangered her, but he had also almost gotten her _killed_. The old man was right like always. He should have considered Illya's safety more than he had. Shirou would never forgive himself, he could already tell that he would never stop regretting his choice. "We st-"

"Whether they're dead or not doesn't matter, the outcome could have been much worse. One mistake and either one of you might have died." The old man folded his arms across his chest, continuing to bore holes in his son with his eyes alone. "I don't know the details and I don't want to, but what you've done is idiotic. You leapt straight into battle without understanding your opponent, without weighing the variables. I had thought I taught you better than to blindly leap before thinking." Kiritsugu moved two fingers to tap the side of his own head, face set in stern annoyance. "I suppose I'll just have to teach you with a little more effort to correct these mistakes." Shirou gulped audibly. That could mean a lot of things and none of them were very pleasant. The old man briefly glanced at the unconscious girl in Shirou's arms. "I'm guessing they got away and you had to tail him to his safe house where you found that girl. If he was able to escape both you and Illya, he must have been a magus. Or at the very least, an expert in his craft."

Until now, Shirou had never looked at the woman's face. She was actually rather stunning, a mature beauty in her late twenties. Sharp features with full lips, a thin nose and long dark-brown hair that was stained with dried blood. At least it wasn't someone he knew, Shirou had never seen her before. "It doesn't matter, he's dead either way."

Kiritsugu hummed, face not softening for a moment. "How was he disposed of?"

Shirou made a noise, twitching as he remembered how the remains had been left. He couldn't lie to the old man, that would get him in even more trouble. "He wasn't," he admitted, watching his father's frown deepen a touch more.

"Are the circumstances of his death going to raise questions from the authorities?"

Shirou shuffled. He hadn't thought about any of this but his father's questions raised some incredibly good points. Someone being turned into ground beef was definitely not a daily occurrence. If news of a murder like that got out to the public, someone from the Mage's Association might happen across it and from there it was fifty-fifty on whether they put in the effort to investigate or not. "Most likely, yes," he grumbled. He still wasn't going to lie. One way or another the old man would find out.

Kiritsugu sighed, placing his face in one hand to further express his exhaustion with the situation. "Then we just hope the Association doesn't look too closely into things. If they somehow trace it back to you and discover your ability, the rest of your life will be lived out dissected in a jar." He lifted his face from his hand and let his arms down, slowly walking towards his son. "Set her down here and dematerialize Avalon. She's not a magus so its aura comes straight through."

Shirou paled. He could sense Avalon? Worse yet, he knew Shirou was _projecting_ Avalon? He had never told anybody about being able to project the sheath. To all known laws of magecraft it shouldn't have been possible either. If the old man knew, Rin likely did as well, which meant she was bound to start experimenting with him again. Well, technically she already had if he thought about earlier today. "How do you kn-"

"I know a lot more than you might think." He stopped in front of him, eyes softening just a tad as Shirou flinched. "I'm glad you're both safe. But for the very least, wait until you are stronger and wiser before trying to play _hero_." His voice held a distinct hatred within it. Not toward Shirou himself, but the term he used.

 _Hero_.

The word was a point of great conflict for Shirou. Years ago, he wanted to be the exact embodiment of a "Hero of Justice". At the time, he had hardly known what he had been saying but the desire burned so brightly within him it couldn't be explained any other way. Shirou had wanted to become strong enough to protect everyone, to save everyone and to make everybody around him happy. Most of all, he wanted to experience what the old man had that day. The Great Fire, when Shirou's life as he knew it began, when he was found in the burning rubble. Whenever Shirou looked at his father, the overjoyed expression he'd held during their first encounter popped into his mind. Even with Shirou's accomplishments and all his progress, his father never smiled or looked as happy as he had that day.

And that _hurt_. Being unable to make his father truly happy caused him so much pain. It was why Shirou continually strove to be more. To achieve and excel, to become something his father could finally be proud of. He wasn't going to stop pushing himself until Kiritsugu could look at him once more like he had that day.

When he was fourteen, Shirou had finally made a choice. In order to fully commit himself to reach his goal, he would have to renounce his dream at becoming a "Hero of Justice". Kiritsugu had always told him that being a hero was impossible, that such a person was a paradoxical hypocrite. Who was a supposed hero to decide what _good_ and _evil_ really were? Who were they to decide which person was innocent or guilty? It was a fierce gray zone that couldn't be argued for or against. Obviously, there were good and evil beings, but the definitions of each were impossible to determine.

Was his father an evil person? Was he a guilty murderer because due to his ideal of killing the few to save the many? Shirou didn't believe so. The Magus Killer was a force of good through evil means. Assassinating murderers to save lives before they were ever taken. To the old man, everything was a game of numbers. One life was less than ten, ninety-nine was less than one hundred, so long as more people were saved than killed, the outcome was preferable. So where did a man like that place on a theoretical scale of "good"? If the Clock Tower or the general magus population was to be believed, he wasn't. Kiritsugu, as close to a hero as a man could be in Shirou's eyes, was viewed as some homicidal maniac. A villain that needed to be purged by the _good guy_.

Shirou abhorred his father's methodology. Nobody should be sacrificed for another. Everyone should be saved regardless of the personal cost. If it would save more lives, sacrificing oneself should be the obvious choice. That's how heroes were supposed to work. The righteous, selfless embodiment of all things "good".

That was what Shirou _had_ believed when he was younger. With all his teaching, training and experiences, that definition had changed and altered itself into some sick hybridization of numerical values and absolute salvation. As hard as he tried, Shirou couldn't truly renounce his dreams. Deep within him, the "Hero of Justice" valiantly fought to save everyone around him. Shirou always did his best to save everyone, regardless of any personal harm he might come into in such a pursuit. He would sacrifice himself without a second thought if it were to save even a single person. Although, he was able to see when a situation was impossible. Shirou could tell and had come to accept that he sometimes couldn't save _everyone_. If the situation was truly dire, if there was no flawless outcome, the numerical system of his father came into play. It was a system of juxtaposing ideologies that directly overrode one another on a case-by-case basis. This system came to a screeching halt and crumbled to pieces whenever Shirou thought about sacrificing his friends. He wasn't his father, he wouldn't sacrifice his wife or loved ones to save a group of people - he couldn't! Their lives were important to him, but were they more important than the life of another? If so, _how many?_

The important lesson Shirou had learned, and become accustomed to, long ago, was that heroes didn't exist. Perhaps in dreams or tales of fantasy, but real life had no place for pious, honourable heroes that saved all. "I'll never become a hero," Shirou spoke with venom. Only, nobody was there. Kiritsugu had left the room while he was trapped in thought.

… … …

… … …

Shirou visited the unconscious woman in his room early the next morning, leaving a glass of water and an energy bar beside her for when she woke up. Kiritsugu and Bazett would be the only two home and Shirou was confident that the old man could handle things should she wake up before he got back.

She was sleeping soundly and her bodily condition was as to be expected; the copy of Avalon had returned her to a healthy state. Sighing loudly, Shirou lowered his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine what the girl had gone through, what she would remember or what she would say upon waking. Would she even have her memories or would her brain just repress the events entirely? Shirou honestly couldn't tell which outcome was better.

Then a noise snapped his eyes open. It was a slight gasp from the unconscious woman's mouth. Had she woken up already? Rather convenient timing if he had anything to say about it.

But she wasn't awake. She was just reacting unconsciously to something in her mind as she slept. With another sigh, Shirou stood and moved to the door. He offered the unconscious woman one last glance before leaving for school.

… … …

… … ...

With the house repaired and everything back in order, training with Bazett finally began. Even though it was supposed to be a normal fist fight, she had decided to wear that same suit as their first battle, although this time forgoing gloves.

"Where'd you learn to fight, kid?" she asked, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms across from him in the dojo. It was strange to be fighting another magus here. Most of his training around magecraft or spars had been outside. Only Taiga and Reikan had taught him indoors.

"The old man and a friend of Taiga showed me what I know now. I've never really been good at anything, but I've learned bit by bit." He had told the truth, his progress in every field had been average at best. He had a fifty-fifty chance to win against Taiga or Reikan in a fight only because he knew their style so well. He just couldn't seem to predict his opponents' attacks well enough to respond in time if they happened to mix things up.

" _Showed_ you? You mean they told you how they fought, right?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she menacingly cracked both knuckles.

The boy nodded. "I've tried to copy them a-"

"So you're all idiots then." Shirou deflated like a balloon, slumping over momentarily. "That's not how you learn to fight. Combat has to come naturally, you have to develop your own style and learn how to use it against your opponent. Some fancy martial arts studio might try to teach you techniques and moves but that means jack in a real fight." She paused, snapping into a stance Shirou was all too familiar with. "The other day you tried to use my own combat technique against me." Bazett gave her head another shake. "Foolish, that's bound to fail from the start. You can't win trying to beat someone at their own game when they have years more experience than you."

Shirou actually found himself nodding in agreement. "I understand what you're trying to say. Because you're familiar with your own fighting style, it's easy to counter your own attacks."

"Precisely. On the other hand, it kept you alive long enough for your friends to help you out. If the goal is only to survive, then it's a good option. Winning, on the other hand, is a different story because eventually, your opponent will see what you're doing and will start acting unpredictably." Bazett motioned for him to come at her with one hand. "Forget everything you've been taught, try to realize how your body naturally wants to respond. For now, the strikes will be light."

… … …

Shirou rolled along the floor three times before flattening out on his back, panting heavily. "You call that light?" he groaned, forcing his body to sit up.

"As light as I can make my punches without slowing them down."

The boy groaned, spotting a familiar girl behind Bazett. For whatever reason, the pain in his body seemed to fade away and his stamina returned. "Kiritsugu told me you two would be here, can I stay to watch?" Rin asked, stepping in calmly before casting a strange glance at Shirou's downed form.

Bazett straightened and dropped her stance as the newcomer entered. Casting the girl a look, she turned back to watch Shirou struggle to stand. Eventually, she motioned with her head towards the boy. "I suppose so if he's alright with it."

Shirou shakily regained his ground, nodding towards the Tohsaka who offered a brief smile. Maybe this was what he needed, something to fight for, a goal. Taking deep breaths, he began visualizing that scene two nights ago. The scent of magic flames, the orange glow reflecting off Bazett's angry eyes as she stormed towards the near-unconscious Tohsaka. There was no doubt that Rin would be killed if Shirou didn't do something to stop her.

His fists unconsciously clenched and his eyes snapped open with renewed flame. With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pain and exhaustion in his body ebbed away. "Again, this time I won't lose!" he shouted defiantly, watching the enforcer cock one eyebrow as she slowly returned to her stance. Seemingly testing his offer, she shot forward and time seemed to slow as the familiar words left his mouth.

" _Trace on!_ "

Bazett's heart rate and blood pressure were standard and she was operating at peak performance. Although, simple bodily stats weren't what he was looking for, what Shirou cared about was the rate of oxygen flow to various parts of her body. That alone told him which muscles she was flexing, how she would move and in what direction to anticipate attacks. It wasn't much, but it would help him out a tad as he attempted to develop his own fighting style.

He had no trouble blocking the first punch, as usual, using one forearm to hold back the powerful blow as he prepared a strike of his own. There was a spike of blood flow to one of her legs and the same arm she had thrown the punch with was moving to grab the wrist of his other hand were he to complete his strike. She was expecting his return and was preemptively moving to cover her dropped guard.

This was the problem, Shirou could never predict attacks while it seemed that Bazett could. Unable to move fast enough to simultaneously reverse his attack and cover his side, he settled for reinforcing his body and bracing. A massive force collided with his lower ribs and sent him flying back-first into one of the support beams of the dojo walls. Sliding down to the ground, his body collapsed as he tried to capture gasping breaths. Forcing his body to move, he propped himself up on his elbows and gradually pulled his leg up to help him stand. The taste of copper bubbled up in his throat and a quick trace revealed that she had ruptured his large intestine. Thankfully, Avalon was patching the organ up and the internal bleeding would stop before it became a major concern. Bazett sighed, shaking her head. "That was even worse than the last time, are you sure you want to keep getting your arse handed to you?"

He needed a style, something different of his own that could beat her. Over and over in his mind, Shirou wondered how Bazett seemed to know where his next attack would be. She had allowed her right side to remain open in that last attack, then preemptively primed her body to strike where his counterattack would be.

Had that been it? Had she purposefully goaded him into striking an area she expected to be attacked? In his mind, the blueprint of her gloves appeared and Shirou ran a scan over its accumulated history. All of her battles and all of her techniques revealed themselves to him. She had never used the moves she was using here with real enemies, but she had definitely used them before. In friendly spars or in training exercises, she left herself open and allowed the enemy to strike right where she expected, then capitalized on their surprise.

Why didn't she use that technique in real fights? Was it because she was scared that the enemy would see through it or that she'd be unable to block the attack? Or was it because the premise was suicidal? If she were outmatched in speed and power, the attack would go straight through into her most vital areas. Pushing off his knee and using the wall as a support, he eventually managed to stand. Shirou coughed up a glob of mucus and blood into his mouth, quickly spitting it onto the floor. "Again," he panted, lifting his fists.

"Jesus, kid. You're nothing if not persistent. This is the last time, then you can go practice whatever you do with Tohsaka." Bazett sighed once more, lifting her hands hastily as the boy lunged forward into her range. She easily blocked the first strike, but then Shirou switched his entire tactic and allowed her to make the first move. There was a lull in motion as the offence shifted from one party to the other. He positioned his hands so that his shoulder was left open. His eyes barely caught the twitch of her arm and with blind faith, he snapped one of his hands to where he believed her fist would land.

With a meaty thwack, Shirou's fingers wrapped around Bazett's fist and the two both made a noise of surprise. Bazett's eyes contracted into pinpricks, confusion and shock etched in her features, then Shirou's fist planted itself in her nose. Recoiling from the blow, both her hands came up to hold her face. Slowly her hands lowered, revealing unbridled fury and a bloodied nose. While Bazett's entire body from the neck down was defended by her suit, her face was still very much human. Letting the blood dribble from her injury, she reached into her suit and withdrew a pair of gloves.

Eyes widening, Shirou began murmuring his aria to prepare his own set. His minor victory had pissed her off and she was more than prepared to repay the favour it seemed. The woman tugged on the base of her gloves to tighten the material against her hands, casually stepping forward with an inferno raging behind those cool burgundy eyes.

Just as she leapt in to try and take his head off, Shirou projected his own pair of identical gloves around his hands and batted away the oncoming fist. His new technique had worked, but now the question was if it would continue working against someone stronger and faster than him. No longer was the woman leaving her defence open, so could he still pull off another strike if she were fighting for real?

Shirou grit his teeth as he was forced to defend a dozen punches from every direction. Using his knowledge of her fighting style and his new technique, he was able to hold off the oncoming blows without much worry. The intensity kept him from returning blows of his own but he was working to change that. With each blow, his technique slowly built and developed itself in his mind. Shirou could actually start to feel his body wanting to react differently to her attacks. Each blocked strike brought with it a miniature explosion of raw power - she wasn't pulling her punches and it definitely showed. The entire dojo shuddered as the air pressure slammed into the walls.

Deciding to test his fresh technique, he left his arms high and tried to bait her into kicking his ribs once more. Eventually, she bought, back leg pivoting just a little more than usual to reveal her true intentions.

Against his survival instincts, he dropped his guard from the rest of his body and dropped one hand, bracing it against his hip to catch her foot. As if on queue, his hands wrapped around her foot and the woman made a grunt. With a noise of his own, Shirou took one step forward while yanking her leg high with one hand. With the extreme change of balance, the woman fell over onto her back. Shirou let the leg in his hand slip free along his hip, allowing him to close the distance and rear his other fist back to strike at her downed face.

Then he paused, holding his fist high. There was a second as the two simply panted heavily, frozen in place as they looked into one another's eyes. He had won the fight, but he was hesitant to end it with this punch. It was barbaric to strike someone when they were down like this. Then Bazett wrapped both her legs around his neck and rolled him over like a crocodile.

Faster than he could react, he was on his back with the full weight of the Irish woman atop him. With a tensing of her powerful legs, his oxygen was entirely cut off. "You still lose, kid," she huffed once, leaning forward while maintaining pressure with her legs. He couldn't breathe and with his body screaming for oxygen from his previous exertions, his vision was already fading. "Don't stop fighting until your opponent is unconscious or dead."

… … …

Shirou's eyes opened to the gentle sound of humming. Even though his eyes were still blurry, he could tell he was in the stone shed. The gray colour on all sides was unmistakable. The question was, who was humming, and why?

Turning his head, he watched a blurry figure wearing red stretching high to grab something from one of his shelves. It was Rin, he could recognize that figure and those legs anywhere. From this low position and with her pose like that, he could almost see directly up her ski-

Shirou suddenly turned his head away in embarrassment, closing his eyes to try and purge the sight from his mind. Rin must enjoy the attention such an outfit got her. Nobody in their right mind would wear a skirt that short in the middle of winter for any other reason.

The Tohsaka continued hunting for whatever it was she was looking for, knocking something over that shattered loudly on the stone floor. She paused, expressed a calm "whoops," and continued her humming search.

Shirou tried his best to appear sleeping as he listened to her discover the object of her search. She carefully stepped over to his side and kneeled on the ground. Something was placed under his nose and upon the first inhale, Shirou's body was forced to react violently. An incredibly powerful smell of chemicals filled his nose and burned everything from his nose to the bottom of his throat. With hacking coughs, he abruptly sat up and clawed at his nose to try and rid himself of the feeling.

"Huh, these things work a lot better than I expected them to," Rin commented. Glancing her way, he could see a small plastic capsule between her fingers.

"Who uses smelling salts on someone?" he coughed out, desperately rubbing at his nose and scrunching up his face in discomfort. He had known exactly what the package was when he put it together with the smell.

"Well, I couldn't have you unconscious all day, dummy. I had to wake you up somehow." Rin shrugged, offering a slight smile as Shirou glared at her. "Now come on and stop wasting time. I want to experiment with that new form of projection you have."

"Rin, what do yo-"

"Just sit there and try to follow my instructions, alright?"

… … …

Rin left for her own home when night rolled around, leaving an exhausted Shirou behind. She had tested every possible theory she had and forced him to push each limit he'd set for himself. Everything from their rate of creation to something as minute as their stability when being formed. She had decided the latter by balancing a glass of water on the tip of the blade as it was being established in mid-air. The projected blades in creation seemed to act like a permanent fixture, holding any amount of weight on any point without wavering. This changed when the blade finalized itself. After completion, physics took effect and the blade acted accordingly. Needless to say, there was a lot of glass and water on the shed floor.

Using this strange property, Shirou could make a set of makeshift stairs that he could climb. Slowing down the process of creation, he could make these sword-stairs last a good thirty seconds before they started acting as they were supposed to.

His projections had several strange limitations and features like this. Another notable one was that he couldn't alter the blade after it was launched. As in, after defining a target and altering the weapon to have a velocity, he couldn't change it in any way. Rin couldn't offer an explanation simply because of her unfamiliarity with his entire field of projection. According to her, mobile projections like this weren't even possible.

Shirou stepped out of the stone shed, looking over a nameless sword in his hand. Lightly rusted and far from its prime, it assisted Shirou in realizing that he needed to expand his collection of swords. But where in this day and age would he find quality blades?

Maybe the old man would know or Taiga's father, Raiga. After all, he was the leader of the local Yakuza. His knowledge of Fuyuki and its going-ons must be commendable at least to hold a position like that. Normally Shirou disliked gangs and criminals, but Raiga's Yakuza were much more civilized and decent. They tidied up petty criminals around the area and while they had protection fees, they were reasonable and the protection was genuine.

His men - and sometimes Raiga himself - occasionally asked Shirou to repair their cars and motorbikes. He had done it for free every time and had always done it faster than any mechanic in the area thanks to his tracing ability. After all, he had done for them, Shirou could easily be considered a good friend.

The blade in his hand faded away into golden sparks. Speaking of the Yakuza, Taiga would likely show up soon, which meant he would need to start dinner or face her wrath.

… … …

Dinner went as well as could be expected. Bazett spoke significantly more tonight than she had yesterday. Although, that wasn't saying much considering she didn't speak at _all_ yesterday. She had even gone so far as to compliment Shirou's meal. He took it as an incredible commendation. A woman like her with all her life experiences must have eaten some phenomenal cuisine, so for his to be on par with those must mean his cooking was quite special. Taiga had shown up on time and was surprised and slightly angered to find Bazett. For her cover story, Kiritsugu simply told her the truth - Bazett was the daughter of an old friend of his and she was staying here while she found a job.

Shirou could understand where the emotions came from. Bazett was a couple years older than her, quite attractive and more Kiritsugu's style - serious, calm and composed. All things that Taiga _wasn't_. The lovestruck girl probably saw her as direct competition, even though Bazett seemed to hold a mild form of contempt for the man.

Thankfully dinner hadn't elevated to a dining room brawl and Taiga had left on good terms. Deciding to tuck in early tonight, Shirou had gone off to get some sleep. Since his room was occupied, he had been moved precisely one room over. Even with a warm, familiar bed of his own, sleep just wasn't coming peacefully to him….

Closing his eyes was normal, as was the flickering flames of his common nightmare. He was accustomed to it, the Great Fire bothered him no more beyond refreshing the sense of guilt in his mind. A new dream, a new sensation had developed and was keeping him from dreaming.

Just before slipping off to sleep, the scent of cold steel and smoke filled his nose and an incessant pounding came all at once from every direction. It was impossible to rest with such a sudden noise crashing into his ears like a cymbal. Rolling over restlessly in his futon, he caught the time on his clock: midnight. At this rate, he wouldn't get a wink of sleep before school started. While spells to reduce fatigue existed, he'd have to ask Rin to cast them and that felt too embarrassing. She'd probably call him stupid too.

Closing his eyes defiantly, he set out to give sleep another try. Long before he got close to a good rest, the sound of a sliding door interrupted him. Opening his eyes and sitting up, he spotted an unnaturally sheepish Illya.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" she asked. Her voice was strange, softer than he had ever heard with something strange hiding just beneath the surface. "I've been having nightmares since _then_."

Shirou felt a pang of remorse. If he had known how that night would have turned out, he would have never asked for Illya's help. His foolish mistake had scarred her more than the faint scar on her chest.

"So you want to sleep beside me and see if that fixes things?" Shirou put two and two together. With uncertainty, she nodded and took a started walking forward as if he had already agreed.

With a half-sigh, Shirou shuffled over on his futon and allowed her some room. He couldn't deny such a simple request after all he had put her through. Thinking about sleeping in the same room as Rin or Sakura weirded Shirou out entirely. Since Illya was his sister, the thought wasn't as bad. Relatives did this kind of thing, right?

In a minute, the two were settled and trying their best to sleep. Ten minutes passed for Shirou with similar results. Each time he neared unconsciousness, the ear-ringing clang of hot steel would abruptly wake him. Carefully, he rolled to face his sister. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly parted. With a quick trace, he made note of her heart rate and body temperature to ensure she was asleep. If only he could read minds to make sure her slumber was dreamless. If this was all it took to stop her nightmares he decided that it wasn't _that_ bad. Certain graces could be made for siblings after all...

Watching his sister like a creep actually got his eyes rather heavy. It was like her exhaustion was contagious and without warning Shirou found himself slipping off.

… … …

… … …

… … …

The land was empty, an endless expanse of earth beneath a calm, cool blue sky. There was no sun visible, however, it was obviously day. The ground was foreign and clearly fabricated. Tall, wild grass with inconsistent overgrowths and barren patches of randomized shapes. Below, his feet left impressions in the soft, dense clay. The grass around him didn't seem to mind the fact that it was growing through clay in the slightest.

Shirou looked around, trying to find a landmark to help guide him. There wasn't a single thing in sight. Nothing in the distance, no trees or hills. This was just a perfectly flat world full of grass. His mind was telling him that he had a goal to accomplish here, something that had to be done before he could leave. Shirou cautiously made one step forward, then another, choosing a direction and walking toward whatever end this world had.

Shirou knew this was a dream. His motions were light, his mind impossibly clear and when he closed his eyes, the image of his "birth" during the Great Fire was nowhere to be found.

Rin had told him once that dreams were significant in a way few understood. They could foretell the future or reveal insight into oneself. With what happened to Kiritsugu, Shirou more than believed the former, but how could a dream show more about himself than he already knew?

So what was this dream trying to show him? Caught up in his mental questioning, he hadn't noticed the abrupt appearance of a blade in the ground. It hadn't been there a moment ago, so where had it come from?

It was familiar, a blade Shirou recalled well. It was the same sword he had held just hours prior, the European longsword traced during his visit to the history museum. What was it doing here? Wrapping his hand around the handle, golden sparks crackled around his skin. There was pain, but not enough to stop him from pulling the weapon free. As it was lifted to his face for examination, the sword dematerialized into a blue cloud.

Scrunching his face in confusion, another blade caught his eye. This one was in much better shape but had been originally seen in the same place. The weapon was significantly younger than the last. It was a remake, a modern rendition of a medieval greatsword that was too large and unwieldy for Shirou to operate effectively. With a hasty jog, he moved over and repeated the removal process. It responded in the same way, which served only to confuse him more.

Turning around, Shirou spotted a strange ring of flame. It had originated from where the first sword was drawn and it was slowly growing to consume the wild grass.

Something told him that the flames weren't right. They weren't supposed to exist in this world. As he prepared to back away, they extinguished themselves as if obeying his thoughts.

Shirou felt as if he were in an inferior version of _The Twilight Zone_. He was prepared to just lie down and admit that he would never understand this subliminal garbage until a familiar sound caught his ear.

It was faint and hardly audible but unmistakable all the same. The forging of steel, a consistent sound that resonated deep within him for reasons he couldn't understand. Turning to face the sound's origin, Shirou spotted a hill and immediately his mind began to pound in tune with the clanging steel. Jutting out from the thick grasses was a hardened, baked-clay spire about twenty feet tall.

He could see the source of the noise now. Just above the crest of the hill were blades locked in an endless cycle. Forming, colliding with one another then dematerializing into blue clouds. It was incessant, stubborn and ultimately futile. What was the point of it all? The sight actually infuriated Shirou for reasons he couldn't comprehend.

Shirou found himself climbing the hill without memory of ever walking toward it. His mind had already created a blade, the long greatsword he had withdrawn earlier. He realized his goal in this dream, to halt the idiotic repetition that plagued this world. As if sensing his approach, the blades stopped their battle, suddenly turning to face the boy moving to interrupt them. Shirou had never seen these weapons before but their appearance was unforgettable. Short, falchion-type blades designed to be the absolute antithesis of one another. While one had a blade of purest white, the other was of deepest black in a beautiful yin-yang type display. The only difference beyond the colour scheme was that the black blade also used a hexagonal design with the borders in bloodied crimson.

In all his life, Shirou would never forget those magnificent weapons. From the first glance alone, he was truly awed at their beauty, but he couldn't quite appreciate it very much while they were flying straight toward him.

With all his strength, he swung the sword up from his low grip and struck the black blade as it had launched itself first. Shirou expected some resistance from the weapon but instead of deflecting, it simply dematerialized upon contact and made Shirou greatly overswing.

Unable to defend himself from the incoming white blade now, Shirou was forced to abandon the greatsword and focus on dodging. With such little time, he had no chance of making it out unscathed. The blade flying toward him tore out a large chunk of his midsection, dematerializing in the same instance after completing its task. Before he could even react, the black blade was already upon him once more. Lifting his arm and moving to the other side, it narrowly missed his hip.

The white blade had returned to his front and a new sword found its way into Shirou's hand, a lighter blade that could be swung with one hand. Since all he needed to do was touch the blades to stop them, it wouldn't matter how much force he applied to his swings. As he prepared to deflect the white sword, searing pain jabbed into his spine and his body collapsed onto the clay below without warning.

Falling, the white sword flew over of his head into the distance. Looking over his shoulder, Shirou spotted the black blade embedded into his back. It had severed his spine and crippled him from the waist down, he was out of the fight now. Somehow, the weapon returned to strike him in the back after being dodged. Thinking it over, he had made a stupid mistake in assuming the sword _couldn't_ reverse its motion after being launched.

Some distance away, the white blade spun in the air to reverse its motion and was on its way to finish him off. He had failed in his objective, there was no hope for him now, he would die on this hill. Shirou slowly closed his eyes, accepting his face and the knowledge that he could not halt an unstoppable force such as this. These weapons would always clash, they would always fight regardless of what he did to try stopping it. The inside of his eyes were dark, cold and unfeeling. It was hopeless here, much like his chances at success.

That sword was taking an awfully long time to kill him, wasn't it?

Then a shout broke him from his depressed thoughts. Someone was screaming his name, they were crying, begging for him to stand and fight. He opened his eyes and watched a black shot of Gandr colliding with the blade that had spelled his demise. In a splash of blue, the weapon vanished.

"Get up and fight you big idiot! You're going to let one little thing take you out like that?" a woman shouted, moving to stand between the downed boy and the top of the hill. It was Rin, someone unmistakeable in appearance although she hadn't been the one calling out for him. Ahead, _dozens_ of the black and white blades had appeared in the air. Instead of firing all at once, however, they were firing sequentially - one at a time.

There was no way Rin would survive an onslaught like this, not on her own. Shirou wanted to do something, anything to help her survive but his circuits weren't working. He couldn't project any blades to help her, the process just wasn't cooperating.

" _Because it's not correct,"_ a voice whispered into his ear, creating a jabbing pain in his temples with each syllable.

Rin had done her best with lowering the number of blades but for each one she destroyed, two more took their place. The rate of their launching changed too, accelerating linearly with the total amount. Switching from the more accurate one-handed method, the Tohsaka mage used both hands to fire Gandr like she was using dual pistols. The bright blue-green glow of her combined magical circuits began to peek through the sleeves of her shirt. Even pushing herself like this, it was obvious that the girl would be overwhelmed soon. The weapons weren't difficult to destroy but their numbers were growing to a staggering number.

Rin had taken a step back, fear evident in her actions as the weapons progressively got closer to spearing her. Since there were almost two firing at a time now, she couldn't destroy them before they fired and cleared about half the distance to her. Just as it looked like she would be engulfed in blades, a spear of inky black pierced through a half-dozen of the blades in one thrust. Sakura moved beside her sister, holding out an open palm to guide the dark weapon to its targets. Each weapon the spear touched didn't fade away as if destroyed but rather fell apart into metal shards as if the bonds between each magical particle had been removed. Shirou had never seen such a technique or spell before. He didn't even know Sakura could use magecraft.

"You need to get up, Senpai. We'll help you along the way!" she shouted with more emotion than he had ever heard her use. She was crying but keeping a strong facade as she assisted the Tohsaka magus in protecting him.

"Don't let us both down now or we'll never forgive you!" Rin added.

Even with their combined forces, the battle wasn't looking any better. Like an endless tsunami, the number of blades continued to grow in number and in ferocity. One managed to go straight through their defences and slice through Rin's midsection as it had done to Shirou. The girl made a noise, stumbled with one foot but otherwise held firm.

She was still alive, they were still holding on. Shirou wanted to help but how could he from here? His magecraft wasn't working and his body was in no condition to start battling weapons. A warming feeling came from behind, something had been removed from his body and his lower half painfully regained feeling. Looking back, he spotted Illya, healing his injury with tears streaming down her face. "Daddy said you'd protect me no matter what," the homunculus sniffled, wiping her eyes on the back of her arm. "So you can't give up!"

Seeing her face and hearing her words ignited something inside Shirou. His friends counted on him, they needed him to stop this force and only he could do it. Anger, determination and dedication swelled in his chest and seemed to refresh his entire being. With feeling in his limbs once more, he stumbled onto one knee and forced himself to stand. "Trace on!" he commanded, and the swords ahead seemed to hold for a fraction of a second. One shakey step after another, he resumed climbing the hill as blueprints of the weapons ahead filled his skull. They were simple, without purpose or a sense of anything, but at the same time, they were crafted with incredible skill and of the highest quality. Taking the time to go through his aria wasn't going to be possible here. It would take too long and put Rin and Sakura's safety at risk, he couldn't project blades.

" _Little do you know,"_ came the same voice as before. Was this voice mocking his struggle or was it trying to help him in a convoluted way?

There was a blade that had been created near the side, out of Rin and Sakura's view. They hadn't noticed it and it was preparing to fire. Shirou opened his mouth to shout a name, but his throat simply would not release a sound. He reached out and tried to move in the way, but it was simply impossible with the amount of distance between them.

The blade fired and shot straight towards Rin. There was no doubt it would kill her. Primed to strike her abdomen and take her out with a single strike. If she fell, then a major point of their resistance would fall and it would all go downhill from there.

Out of nowhere, the old man seemed to appear. Placing himself between the Tohsaka magus and the oncoming weapon, he was speared through the abdomen unceremoniously. Blood spewed from the wound and he slid down the hill a few feet but he was still standing. Without skipping a beat, the Magus Killer raised the weapon in his hand and sprayed bullets wildly into the steadily growing wall of blades. The hosing of bullets was incredibly effective but the act seemed to draw the attention of every blade summoned. Without warning, they all turned toward him and began firing haphazardly. These were no longer coordinated projectiles but a complete zone annihilation. Hundreds of blades struck his location all at once. There was no possible chance of surviving such an attack, even if he had tried to dodge out of the way.

Dozens of weapons impaled his entire body. Arms, legs, torso and neck ran through leaving blood spewed across the surface of the hill. His body was carried off the hill from the force of the impact. Landing somewhere in the thick grass below, his body disappeared without a trace. Even after he was gone, more weapons continued to bombard his location to add insult to injury.

An indescribable rage washed over Shirou. What sort of force would so mercilessly kill his father with such prejudice? What reason would it have to slaughter a man who had done nothing but good his entire life? The weapons seemed angered by Kiritsugu's mere existence. They had killed him as if wanting to erase him entirely.

A red haze descended over Shirou's eyes and something within him stirred. The swords in his mind began appearing over his shoulders with a spray of blue light. They were being made faster than ever before at a quality that was greater than he was used to. Perfect, identical copies of the blades before him formed and fired to destroy their brothers. The process of their creation was entirely different than he was used to. It was like they were being pulled straight from somewhere within him and placed in the real world rather than building themselves from a stored memory. The load on Rin and Sakura was taken away as Shirou countered the incoming barrage with one of his own. The cacophony of screeching metal and clanging steel actually hurt his ears but did nothing to slow his walk up the hill.

Step by step he moved closer to the peak, moving past the girls who had remained behind him, almost like they weren't prepared to follow him to his goal. While the oncoming blades dematerialized after being struck, Shirou's own weapons shattered into metal shards that littered the ground and rained down upon him. Even though these hot pieces were showering his body, he continued his journey. Five steps from the top, he started running out of steam. He had projected hundreds of blades already and there was no sign of the offence slowing down.

His body was on fire, magic circuits roasting him from the inside out. Surprisingly, his mind _wasn't_ being overloaded over handling all the information from his projected blades.

" _That's because you're doing it the right way, the way it's meant to be."_ The voice returned once more, seemingly guiding him. " _Pull the blade from within, don't create a new image each time."_

Shirou couldn't even listen to the words properly. His anger was overriding all of his senses, including pain. A blade impaled itself in his back, not paralyzing him and refusing to dematerialize as well. Three steps from the top, another blade ran him through the chest, piercing his lung and forcing his legs to shake. Blood was everywhere, but so long as he could move, he would. There was a ghastly humanoid shape waiting for him at the top of his hill, staring down at him with extreme contempt and hatred.

It was an emotion shared by both Shirou and this apparition. The white blade formed in his right hand, Shirou would kill this being just like he had killed the kidnapper. They had hurt Rin, they had made Illya cry, he wouldn't-

… … …

… … …

… … …

Shirou's eyes opened to the ceiling of his room. He had woken up, returned to his physical body after...what had that dream been about again? Trying to scour his mind for details, he found an absolute blank space. He was supposed to remember important details. Something about swords and his friends? Shirou was so caught up in trying to discern what the dream had just been about that he hasn't noticed his positioning in his futon with Illya.

Through the night, she had turned around and pressed up against him. He might have had some involvement in things considering that his arm was draped over her. Wanting to avoid ending up on a criminal watch list, he carefully removed his arm and got out of his futon without waking Illya.

The clock beside his bed told him it was time to get up anyway. Quarter to six was a little earlier than usual but that just gave him more time to exercise. He carefully turned off the alarm on his clock so that it wouldn't wake Illya. She could sleep in until school was about to start.

His mind returned to that dream as he moved to find a new pair of clothes. There were things he was supposed to remember that he couldn't for the life of him. Something about a sword? Something about…. There were people in that dream with him and he knew them well, so why couldn't he remember their faces? Grumbling, Shirou decided it wasn't worth exerting himself and he snaked out of his room to the dojo.

… … …

Today was much warmer than it had been the past few days. While it was much more pleasant to be outside, exercising was just a touch harder. After finishing his physical exercises, Shirou carried on with the daily ritual and practiced his magecraft. Normally, he had done this in a few simple ways. Meditation with his circuits active, reinforcing his body further and further or projecting various objects. Recently, he had started creating projectiles pointed towards him with the task of grabbing them from the air. That worked both his body and circuits simultaneously.

He was going to try something different today. Even though he couldn't remember anything from his dream, there was something that still pulled at him. It was the same feeling he'd had when he refined his tracing procedure all those years ago when Avalon had expressed its desire to be summoned.

There wasn't anything asking him specifically, but projecting objects how he was used to suddenly felt very wrong. He had already spoken the aria and called forth the blueprints in his mind, but he stopped at that point.

Shirou started focusing more on the blueprint and questions soon followed. Questions regarding how he could remember the details of weapons so well, where the blueprints were coming from and why he couldn't alter the weapons after they were created. He wiped away the weapon in his mind and summoned another one, trying to see _where_ the blueprint originated.

It almost seemed like…as if the weapons were all being summoned from-

"You're up early," came a womanly grunt. Concentration broken, Shirou opened his eyes to find Bazett. "You usually get up around six-thirty then meander out here 'round seven."

For a woman who seemed to care little about those around her, she was awfully perceptive. "And you usually don't wake up until eleven," Shirou pointed out blandly.

The woman hardly seemed offended, shrugging impassively before running a finger along her forehead to move the hair from her face. "I needed to talk to you alone so I made a slight exception." Shirou narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to resume the dropped topic. "It's about your magecraft. Your physical abilities are on a level far above your age and from what you showed me last night, you're already on your way to developing your own fighting style. It ain't often that someone can land a hit like that on me. What's holding you back is your magecraft, you aren't going to be able to fight effectively with reinforcement or your little blade projectiles."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. Contrary to what Rin believed, he could see when someone was planning something. "I can't do anything about my magecraft. Reinforcement and projection are the only things I'm good at."

Bazett slowly walked in front of where Shirou was kneeling, settling down onto her knees herself before giving a sharp nod. "Absolutely right, and nobody around here is on your level."

He narrowed his eyes further. She was planning something, but he had no idea what it might be. "So what do you suppose I do? My only option is to continue training and hope Tohsaka can figure something out."

Bazett stared him dead in the eyes for a few seconds. "That's not your only option. There is one that your father's been hiding from you. Since I don't want to see your talent wasted, I wanted to make you aware personally." So that's what this was. Bazett was going behind the old man's back to let him know her thoughts. It wasn't surprising, considering how Kiritsugu liked to hide things away if he deemed them inadequate or plain idiotic.

Shirou snorted, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "The only other option would be to go attend the Clock Tower like a good little magus." Looking into her eyes and seeing the bland look, Shirou realized he had nailed it right on the head. "Now hold on a moment-"

"The Clock Tower has resources beyond what Rin or Kiritsugu can provide. You might be lucky enough to find someone who understands your form of magecraft and can assist you in developing it further." Bazett was trying to help him, but there were too many problems regarding the Mage's Association. Not only did his father have an incredible amount of enemies, if Shirou's ability was discovered, he'd become a sealing designate in an instant. Being able to trace Avalon and other relics was too good of an ability to let slip away. What finalized his disagreement was his sister. If the Einzberns heard of an Emiya roaming around Britain, they'd come for blood. The old man hadn't really asked for Illya politely after all.

"No way, it's too dangerous. Besides that, I have no way of getting i-" Shirou paused as his mind snapped onto a memory. Long ago, Rin had spoken about someone named Waver Velvet taking over the crumbling lord-family in the Clock Tower. She had remarked over how uncommon bringing an outside magus into a family was. That memory wasn't enough to pause Shirou on its own, but when combined with the fact that Waver Velvet had _allied_ himself with the old man during the Fourth War…

"You just thought of a way in, didn't you?" Bazett asked blandly, getting things back on track. "So one way or another, you've got a way in, and you certainly have time. During the summer when school is out, you can attend the Clock Tower and learn what you can. That way, your exposure will be limited from the short stay." Bazett stood and rolled her shoulders one at a time, making loud cracking noises as they settled into place. "It'll put me a little closer to home too. Since your old man is paying me, I go wherever you go."

Shirou let his head fall. "So I can't escape beatings from you wherever I go, is that it?" he whined, getting an incredibly flat agreement as response.

"If I'm not there to kick your ass you'll get soft." She actually smiled for the briefest of moments, but maybe Shirou had just been seeing things. "Think about it, ask your girlfriend if you have to."

Shirou's head snapped up in astonishment. "I definitely do not have a girlfriend, I don't know what you're talking about." Hearing himself speak, Shirou realized how guilty that had made him sound.

Bazett chortled, walking towards the exit while throwing one hand over her shoulder. "Sure you don't, but talk to her anyway and see what she thinks."

Now alone, Shirou was left to stew in his own thoughts. It was true that the Clock Tower would have invaluable amounts of knowledge for him to use. Perhaps something about adding velocities to projectiles, or new weapons to add to his collection or even-

He paused, looking around briefly. Shirou could have _sworn_ that someone had just tried to whisper something to him. Verifying that he was alone, he chalked it up to the wind outside playing tricks on his ears.

Was the high risk truly worth the reward? If the Mage's Association tracked him back to Fuyuki, Illya and Kiritsugu would be forced to pay the price. Shirou wouldn't even be able to help, he'd be put into a nice jar on a shelf long before he could ever see his sister again.

Maybe Rin would know what to do.

… … …

Would that boy go to no end to cause trouble?

If given the choice, would he seriously consider putting everything on the line just to save a few lives? The Magus Killer stared down at the unconscious form of the woman his son had dragged in nearly two days ago. Avalon had healed her wounds and time had finished what had been left but it would seem that her brain still believed she needed rest.

He looked towards her side, spotting a glass of water and an oddly familiar energy bar. That had been the same energy bar that he had hidden so he could enjoy it later today! It was his favourite flavour - one that had been discontinued - and was the last one at that.

Scowling, he reached down and collected his treat, tearing it open to indulge himself for once. Maybe it was his old age, but he had started caring less about others and more about his own family. It was a disgusting thought considering he had once wanted to save the world and had sacrificed his wife to achieve that very goal.

Looking back now, he realized how foolish such a wish really was. Nothing ever ended in rainbows and happiness like books, songs or legends claimed. Life had a way of hitting you when you were down, powderizing whatever little shred or scrap of hope you had left and grinding you into a paste. The strong become hollow, demoralized shells and the weak simply give up. Kiritsugu didn't know which category he fell into at this point.

So many people in his life had come to face this reality first hand. Maiya, Kariya and Sakura Matou, Tokiomi Tohsaka, his wife, Risei Kotomine and even _himself_. Every day he thanked whatever force preserved Illya's innocence and hope. Shirou was a lost cause, but he had always known that, hadn't he?

If Shirou could protect Illya and keep up the illusion that good existed in the world for her, Kiritsugu could die a happy man. Munching on the bar, the Magus Killer crouched down beside the woman and used his thumb to pull back her eyelids. Placing his snack between his teeth he snapped the fingers on his other hand and summoned a small flicker of flame to light up the room. In response to the changing light, her pupils contracted as he expected. Letting the flame die, they dilated appropriately as well.

"No major brain damage, so why aren't you waking up?" he asked himself, humming quizzitively. Just to test a hypothesis of his, he reached out and pinched her nose closed. The body was a very strange thing. So long as the brain was functioning properly, it would wake the body if signs of trouble arose. It was why drowning in the bathtub after falling asleep was impossible. If no oxygen was entering the lungs, the brain threw up every red flag it had. It was similar to the effect had near sleep where the body jerked awake just before unconsciousness.

Slowly, the Magus Killer counted how long he was depriving the girl of oxygen. He could feel her lungs futilely try sucking in air through her plugged nose. Three seconds passed and he was about to pull his hand away when several things happened all at once.

The girl's eyes and mouth snapped open, she heaved a great breath, tried to sit up then met Kiritsugu's hand and a searing pain to the head that set her back down on the ground. Judging by the fear in her eyes, she had absolutely no clue where she was, or perhaps it was a questioning gaze that pondered how she was still alive.

Pulling his hand from her face, the Magus Killer took another bite of his energy bar, motioning offhand to the glass of water. Her body seemed to break all hesitation her mind might have created. Without a second thought, she reached out and drained the entire glass in one big gulp.

"You shouldn't gorge yourself after dehydrating your body, it causes more problems than solutions," he pointed out casually. He wasn't going to stop her of course, she could make her own decisions.

His suggestion fell on deaf ears and she placed the now empty glass back on the floor and slowly sat up to curiously look around the room. Eventually, she settled on the man leisurely eating an energy bar, asking so many questions with a look alone.

"You're safe now, that kidnapper won't be hurting you anymore. But until you answer a few of my questions, you aren't allowed to leave." Kiritsugu popped the last bite of his snack into his mouth before standing. With a mouth half-full of food, he spoke rather clearly. "Come with me, you can use the bathroom and change out of those bloody clothes."

… … …

The weather outside had warmed enough to warrant a pleasant lunch on the school roof. Rin didn't even _ask_ to take half of his lunch, trading their meals in a silent agreement. Shirou had felt too sheepish to speak up about it before but now it had almost become ritualistic. Trying to break the Tohsaka from her routine just wasn't possible, so he let sleeping bears lie.

Sliding his back down the wall, Shirou settled into place and Rin took her familiar spot on his left. Many days had been identical to this one, although for some reason he felt like this day would have significantly more yelling. "Tohsaka," he began, looking down at his bento as if it held the correct words.

"Uh oh, whenever you start conversations like that, you've got something important to say," Rin casually pointed out, mouth half-full of Shirou's portion of her lunch.

His head popped up and he gave her a glance. She had swallowed whatever was in her mouth, giving him a warm smile. Regardless of the situation, that damned smile always made his heart flutter. "Am I that easy to read?" he asked, getting a laugh from the Tohsaka magus.

"Ever since I've known you. You've always been an open book."

Looking into her bright cerulean eyes, Shirou almost got lost. Why did his body always chose to act like this during serious moments? He faced forward and took a large breath to try and clear his mind. "Bazett wants me to focus on my magecraft, she wants me to go to Britain over the summer so I can take classes at the Clock Tower."

He was expecting laughter or perhaps for her to call him stupid for thinking he could get into such a prestigious academy. She did neither, choosing to remain silent for a few long seconds. "Oh," she whispered, shuffling her knees up to her chin. "Kiritsugu probably knows ways to get you in so I'm not surprised. You'll be gone over the whole summer?"

" _That's_ what you're focused on?" Shirou countered, glancing over to the magus questioningly.

"You were supposed to project a lot of gems for me and I had some experiments planned with your new ability." Her eyes and voice seemed devoid of emotion. It was like her brain was just relaying information while her body shut down completely.

"I see, so that's all you wanted me for."

"Of course that's not all I wanted you for you big dummy!" Completely opposite to how she had been, Rin shouted into his ear with surprising ferocity.

Shirou actually fell onto his side to avoid the loud outburst, looking back at her with bewilderment. "Can we focus on the matter at hand here?"

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "You're right. If you're going to be attending the Clock Tower, you're going to need a few things. A new name and identity and some other skills you'll use during your time there."

Shirou nodded, then realized what he was agreeing to. "Hold on, you really think I should go?"

Rin looked at him like he had just grown a second head. "Absolutely, passing up a chance to study at the Clock Tower would be the stupidest decision in your life!" She spoke as if he really was the idiot she claimed him to be.

Looking over her face, he realized something. She was a lot angrier than when he normally asked stupid questions. "Rin, why are you so mad?"

Her knees shuffled closer to her face and her eyes squinted and looked away. There was a very low mumble before she actually spoke at a level he could hear. "Because you're going to go there long before I can." Her eyes seemed to glaze and look absently forward. "As Second Owner, I can't leave the city I preside over until I'm an adult, regardless of how much of a prodigy I might be." She gave her head a light shake. "But this isn't about me. With your projection and tracing skills, you might become a half-decent magus."

"That's the problem exactly." The girl made a noise of confusion, looking toward him for an explanation. "If I show them my abilities, I might become a sealing designate. Neither one of us know just how well I can replicate things, what if it's possible for me to project noble phantasms or conceptual weapons?"

She didn't speak for a few seconds, thinking it over before nodding along with him. "If you could copy weapons like that, there's no doubt that the Mage's Association would try to reverse-engineer your ability. Although I doubt you could ever copy a noble phantasm and have it retain its properties." Shirou looked away so she couldn't read his face. If only Rin knew how broken his ability was. "That's not really the strangest part about you. If anything, you'd get designated for having a matching imaginary origin and element."

She was right. He hasn't even considered how the Association would look at his literal embodiment of _sword._ "And if I get found out, it'll come straight back to Kiritsugu and Illya."

Rin paused and looked off into the distance again. "Then you're just going to have to hide your abilities. You can still project weapons, but you need to hide the process. No projectile creation either, that's probably not something normal people can do. You won't get designated for projecting blades in your hand. Even if they're near-perfect copies, it's still something from an everyday field of magecraft."

Shirou pulled himself off the ground, assuming that Rin was done with yelling for now. Sitting beside her, he just thought about her words for a long while. Rin seemed to be doing the same, thinking over the situation and putting the puzzle together in her mind. With pursed lips and gently flickering eyes, she was likely figuring out what he would need before he left.

"A new name," she mumbled from her knees, eyes snapping onto his when he didn't respond.

"Huh?" Shirou asked intelligently.

"You need a new name and a threatening nickname. Not just to hide your identity, but to protect you as well. A good nickname might scare the average mage from messing with you, meaning you won't have to interact with them so often, minimizing your exposure. I would have suggested a rendition of your father's old name but if you don't want attention brought to him, it might be best to avoid it entirely." Rin stretched out her legs a tad, graciously picking up what was left of her lunch to eat a few more bites. "Nicknames aren't as important as a good cover name you can stick to. If you mess up and respond to Emiya then it's all over from there."

He rolled his eyes. "I know how lying and deceit works."

Looking at him questioningly for a moment, she returned to her lunch. "You'll also need a mask or some sort of concealment for your face."

"What, why?" he asked, scowling.

"If anybody sees your face when you try telling lies they're going to see right through it. Giving you a mask will throw them off. With a mask, you can be honest all you like and people won't be able to tell if you're telling the truth, lying or being sarcastic."

He couldn't really argue against her, especially since she had such a compelling argument. Making a noise of defeat, Shirou returned to his own lunch.

"You'll also have to learn how to act around lords and magi in general. You have to speak with respect and civility, two things you're miserable with. I'll have to teach you before you leave and we've only got a few months so it's best if we start right away."

"Tonight then?" he filled in, getting a bright smile from the Tohsaka magus.

"Consider it a date, I'll bring over a few books on etiquette you can keep until you leave."

… … …

… … …

"That's all I remember, I swear!" the girl sobbed, wrapping her hands around the warm cup of tea in front of her.

He had pushed her too far, she was too mentally strained and as a consequence, she wasn't going to give him any new information. Interrogation never really was his strong suit. He could pull it off, sure, but it wasn't a major component of his profession since permanent silence tended to pay more than information extraction.

"Abduction, torture, then waking up now is all that you remember?" He wasn't asking because he hadn't been listening, he was asking to verify what had been said.

She nodded, tears sneaking through closed eyes to roll down her cheeks. A long period of silence followed, broken only by occasional sniffles. The woman had forgotten most of herself, similar to Shirou's predicament only she had gone through much more physical abuse. Her name and history were lost as her brain tried to forcefully block out the torture it had endured. A common ailment to survivors of extreme trauma.

"We're done for now, continue trying to remember every detail, no matter how small." Kiritsugu stood from the table and moved to the kitchen. Although leftovers didn't exist in his house with people like Taiga, snacks certainly did. Pilfering the cupboard, he found crackers and sugary treats. Nothing that could properly feed the woman, but something to hold her over until dinner arrived.

Setting what he found in front of her, she expressed a feeble thanks before hungrily taking and opening one package. The sweet food would aid in easing her emotions a touch. Sparing a glance at the only clock in the house, Kiritsugu realized that Shirou wouldn't be home for a few hours yet.

While he was waiting, he could pay a visit to the overseer of the Fifth Holy Grail War.

… … …

Illya waved goodbye to her friends as they left school for the day. When she had first gone to school, Illya had expected everyone to ostracize her for being more than an entire foot shorter than most people her age. But she was far from ostracized, the exact opposite in fact. The boys in her class liked her a little _too_ much, claiming she was a "magical girl" from some manga or whatever due to her appearance and outfits. The rest of the class had taken the liberty to spread her image around as some sort of model student to strive toward. While nice of them, she definitely wasn't a role model: most of her assignments were late, she constantly rushed to meet due dates the day before and without Shirou and Rin helping her, her marks wouldn't be _half_ what they were.

Typically, Illya would walk with her friends and split off when she got close to her house but today she was staying to watch Shirou in archery club. From what she had heard, a representative for Japan's kyudo community was talent scouting and had come specifically to see Shirou in action.

Since he hadn't even mentioned it to her or Kiritsugu, he must have thought it wasn't important. How could being recognized for his archery skills across all of Japan be unimportant?

Traversing the school grounds, Illya eventually found the archery hall and she quietly let herself in. Kyudo was very different from other forms of archery. It was ceremonial and ritualistic, rather than combat-oriented. The archer was expected to clear his mind and focus entirely on the bow and arrow, becoming one with the weapon. According to the "laws" of Kyudo, proper form and set-up would _always_ result in perfect shot placement.

Illya had never seen Shirou use a yumi before so she was anxiously waiting for the chance. Upon entering the dojo, Illya was greeted to the sight of teenage girls anxiously watching something within while whispering amongst themselves. The entire entrance area was packed, held back by Mitsuzuri and Makidera who were menacingly brandishing shinai to act as gatekeepers. Evidently, Shirou had quite a fanbase. Far to the side, Illya briefly spotted Rin and Sakura speaking to one another.

It was surprisingly quiet in here, likely out of respect for the sport and the one performing it. With her thin frame and small stature, Illya easily squeezed to the front of the group and looked to Mitsuzuri who recognized her immediately. Motioning with her offhand, Mitsuzuri beckoned her forward. Interested in what the archery captain had to say, Illya moved onward.

Crouching, Mitsuzuri whispered close to her ear. "Shirou's setting up just now, you can go on to get a closer look but make sure you don't distract him, alright?" Nodding in understanding, Illya carefully crept down to the lower level to get a better view of her brother. At the moment, Shirou was positioning himself near the edge of the dojo where the floor broke off into dirt. He was dressed in simple, formal attire consisting of a white gi and a pair of pressed black hakama. The outfit was immaculate and from the way he was moving, Shirou seemed to be trying to preserve its flawless condition.

He was the only one setting up at the range and both eyes were trained on the target with extreme determination. If Illya had to guess, the target was only thirty meters away, something Shirou could pull off blindfolded after spinning around a few dozen times. Something at this distance was quite literally child's play for him.

Illya carefully moved along the back to the far side of the dojo where an older looking man in a trimmed suit was watching in interest. He took notice of her, but didn't speak out or comment on her presence. From this angle, Illya had a better look into Shirou's eyes. He seemed entirely fixated. If an explosion went off and killed everyone, Shirou probably wouldn't have even noticed. He methodically notched an arrow and raised the bow gracefully with even, flowing movements. With similar gracefulness, the string was pulled back to his shoulder and he paused to ensure his target.

Living with Shirou for most of her life, she had noticed quite a few things about the boy. The most major quirk of his was his inability to tell lies. His face literally held every emotion running through his mind.

Right now, he looked distant and almost regretful. It had changed so suddenly that Illya nearly flinched. While Illya had never seen him use a yumi before, she had watched him with other bows several times. Not once had he held an expression like this.

She watched him release a long breath before easing the string from his fingers. With a hearty thwack, the arrow was sent flying down the range - only to miss the target entirely. With her unnaturally gifted eyes, Illya was able to watch the arrow hit the dirt mount behind the target, severing an earthworm that had been writing on the surface.

There was a surprised gasp from the crowd behind him, then a sea of murmuring over what it meant for the boy. Illya just scrunched up her face. That shot was a piece of cake, he easily could have hit it if he wanted. He was up to something and the bright smile that spread across his face only verified her suspicion.

With surprising grace, he turned and bowed to the kyudo representative and then his flabbergasted audience. "So _that's_ what it feels like to miss." Everyone in the crowd shifted, whispering to themselves in shock. Sakura seemed depressed, disheartened to the highest degree while Rin was smirking for unknown reasons.

… … …

"Idiot-Senpai," she mumbled, shaking her head quietly as she walked. Sakura had watched the entire affair at the archery club play out. While she wasn't a student at Homurahara Academy, she still wanted to see Shirou become recognized for his ability. He was an incredible archer, so why had he shot the wind so foolishly? He could have become famous, known throughout Japan competitively if he really tried. He must have had a reason to miss so blatantly. Rin hadn't let up anything, keeping her secrets to herself. From how the two glanced at each other after he had missed, Sakura could tell her sister had expected the outcome.

"What was that?" Shirou asked from her side, startling the girl out of her thoughts. Turning to face him as he spoke, his words clicked in her brain with a slight delay.

"N-nothing!" she clumsily stuttered out, turning her head to sheepishly look down at her feet. "I was just wondering why-"

"Why I chose to purposely miss a shot that would have led me into a regional championship, then quit archery club?" he filled in for her. Hesitantly, she nodded. Both of his actions had come as such a shock and she couldn't determine his reasoning at all. Mitsuzuri had really taken it hard, while Shinji…. "The answers to both are pretty simple. I didn't want my name becoming public, and kyudo was just too easy."

Gaping at him for the briefest of moments, she turned forward and thought it over. That shot had been the first and only time Shirou had missed his target, ever. She could understand how boring repetitive excellence might have gotten. What she didn't understand was why he didn't want the attention. Sakura would kill for attention, especially from a clueless redheaded boy in her near vicinity. "Senpai, what's wrong with publicity?"

She turned to watch him, reaching up with one hand to fiddle with the ribbon tied on her left side. He shrugged impassively before speaking. "Nothing for normal people, but I'm not very normal. A lot of people want to hurt the old man, if word of an Emiya in Fuyuki got out, they'd come looking for us."

Sakura nodded with a sad smile. "You gave up everything to protect your father."

"He's only part of it. There's a group of people who hate him so much, they don't want to kill him." Sakura was about to ask what he meant but he continued before she could. "They want to kill Illya, the only thing he lives for." Sakura flinched at the sudden change in tone Shirou underwent. He had been light and jovial when speaking earlier, even about his father. Now his tone was harsh and full of cold fury.

"What makes you sure that your name hasn't already reached the Mage's Association?" came a pompous voice from behind. Sakura could recognize it from anywhere, it had practically been burned into her brain at this point. It was none other than-

"Shinji," Shirou huffed, turning around. "What are you going on about?"

Sakura turned to face her brother as well. Sure enough, he was standing there, hands in his pockets looking as confident as ever. Instinctively, her face leered downwards. Whenever she looked him in the eye, he always seemed to get annoyed with her. When he got annoyed with her, the beatings started.

"I'm just saying that your name might have already been forwarded to the Mage's Association, or at least someone who works close to the Association." From where she was standing, Sakura could hear the crack of Shirou's knuckles as he clenched both hands into fists.

"Zouken and the old man had an agreement."

" _They_ did," he began, closing his eyes and reciting a memory. "Neither one can meddle in the other's affairs." His eyes opened and a grim smile split across his disgusting face. "Providing me with connections so that I can squeal on you myself doesn't break any part of the agreement. You should never have made an enemy of me, Emiya." In casual Shinji fashion, he ran one hand through his hair and held up one finger in front of his face as if it were some kind of taunt.

"You better not ha-"

"But I already have. Thankfully for you, the Clock Tower isn't very trusting of strange magi. They're sending an enforcer to verify my claim." The smile on her brother's face grew wider with each passing second. Lifting her eyes for a moment, she caught the tensing of every muscle in Shirou's body.

Then he stopped suddenly and reached into his coat pocket. He withdrew something silver that was vibrating viciously. Flipping the device open, he set it to his ear. Even though Sakura was standing beside him, she could only make out the incoming words due to her being well-trained in the art of eavesdropping.

" _We've got problems_ ," came a slightly crackling voice from the other end. Sakura had heard of these devices before. Cell phones, electronics that could be used to communicate with anyone in the world. They weren't very common and they were pretty expensive. This had been the first time she had ever seen Shirou use it.

"Are we walking with death?" Shirou spoke in a strange code, glowering at Shinji who had maintained a malicious smile the entire time.

" _It seems so. Get back as soon as you can, we'll need to start planning._ "

Without any goodbyes, Shirou snapped the device closed and replaced it in his pocket. "You weren't lying." His voice was cold and empty, a tone she had heard only once just a few days ago when Shinji was about to insult Illya.

"I've always been known as an honest man. When I said you and I were enemies I meant it."

"Aren't enemies supposed to fight?" Both Sakura and Shinji made a noise of surprise. Was he suggesting they try to kill each other right now? She didn't want either of them fighting or getting hurt. She _loved_ Shirou of course but Shinji was her brother, she had to defend both of them. Sakura opened her mouth to try settling the two but Shirou was too quick to the punch again. "I don't agree with how Illya treated you that day. It was rude of her to speak about you like that but it gave you no right to do this." Shinji's smile had actually faltered a little. Whether it was because he didn't fully realize what he was doing by contacting the Association or if it was the look on Shirou's face couldn't be determined.

"Of course I knew what I was doing. From what I hear, your sister isn't even related to you. She's a kidnapped child from one of the other magi families. I figured that whoever her real family is would like to know where she was nowadays so they could teach her some manners and respect," he snorted. Sakura had been looking at Shirou, but a sudden thwack from the direction of her brother shifted her attention.

Shinji was laid out face down on the sidewalk, knocked unconscious in a single punch. The one who had thrown it was none other than Rin. Rubbing the knuckles of the hand she hit him with, she looked up to Shirou. "Sorry, hearing him talk like that was driving me crazy."

Shirou made a noise, then slowly eased the tension from his body. "It's fine, I got what I needed out of him anyway." Both Rin and Shirou turned to glance at Sakura, who stiffened in response. She could see the thoughts behind their eyes. Both of them wanted to kill Shinji or at least punish him in some way. At the same time, they both understood that Sakura wouldn't allow it. Or that she would be hurt because of it. She was far too forgiving of her evil, abusive brother. "Just leave him here, I don't really care if he wakes up or not."

Rin smirked and placed one hand on her hip. "I hit him pretty hard, he'll be out for a while." Anger flickered within Sakura for the briefest of moments. It might have been irrational, that she had looked too deep into the meaning of her actions but Sakura could have sworn that Rin was asserting her dominance just then. Showing Shirou that she could defend herself and stand up on his behalf, unlike Sakura.

"It's good that you're here anyway." The anger returned in full force, blooming at the tone in Shirou's voice. _He_ was glad _she_ was here? "We need to prepare. You won't be doing any fighting but you'll have to feign ignorance and stay as far away from us as possible." Rin nodded, stepping over the limp form of Shinji to get a little closer.

"If Shinji got upset with you three days ago, he likely stewed over it for one, tried planning for another then asked Zouken today on the third. Enforcer mobilization takes about a day itself, so we won't have much time if they decide to go full-frontal. Unless the enforcer is smart and decides to watch us for a few days to verify the information. In that case, it could take anywhere from a couple days to weeks." Rin moved the hand from her hip to sit over her lips. Casting her head off to the side, she pulled off the classic _Tohsaka thinking pose_ she was well known for.

"Illya is going to have to lay low. If the Einzberns know she's in Fuyuki, they might try to take her ba-" He stiffened suddenly. Sakura caught the flash of panic in his eyes. She had only ever seen that emotion on his face whenever Illya was in trouble. Is that was he believed now? That she might be in trouble?

"Illya left when the shouting started," Sakura pointed out, calming him down slightly. Shirou reached into his coat, withdrew the cell phone again and called somebody. Waiting a few seconds, a cheery greeting, likely Illya, came from the other end. Sakura watched him let out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, just called to tell you to get home quick. I'll fill you in when I get there." He paused, listening to the other end. Since he had set the phone on his other ear this time, Sakura couldn't hear what Illya was saying. "Yeah, be there in ten minutes."

As Shirou closed and replaced the phone in his coat, Rin took a few more steps forward, rapidly approaching the point where Sakura would comment on her proximity. Rin always had a tendency to breach Shirou's personal space without considering how awkward that made him feel. "Let's get going then, it would be best to get organized as soon as we can."

Nodding, Shirou turned and strode off towards his house with a little extra purpose. Sakura moved to follow but was stopped as something caught her hand. Sliding closer, Rin whispered in her ear. "I know it's not the best time, but we need to have a little sisterly chat about Shirou."

* * *

 **This chapter was fun to write even though I had writer's block for most of it. I love Rage-Shirou and the subtle planning between Rin and Sakura, the Tohsaka Sisters.**

 **I love hearing feedback from you readers, so if you want to leave a review but can't think of anything to say beyond "good write, fun read", tell me all about what you think Shirou is at this point. Does he still want to become the Hero of Justice? Is he the Son of the Magus Killer or is he something messed up between? Do you think he'll survive in the Clock Tower? How do you think he would react if he were to see his Counter-Guardian self?**

 **Tell me all about the little idiot, I want to know everything you think about him!**

 **Oh! And remember to favourite, follow and leave a review! If you do decide to write a review, add a line to offer my beta, Talndir, an egg in these trying times ala Danny DeVito style.**


	13. Three's a Crowd

**EDIT:** **Away! And out with you! This is my editing corner and I'll fight for this small space to express myself! Editor Berix's corner will persevere!**

 **Hello everyone! Would like to first apologize for the late update. This week, I've had 5 midterms one day after another and the assignments for all my courses hit at once. As a consequence, this chapter and the next will be slightly delayed. G.S** **Pheonix** **for claiming the 200th favourite. It's an important milestone to me personally, and I hope you can all share some of my appreciation for the event.**

 **On the same vein as milestones, we'll reach 200k words with the release of this chapter! 200k down, many more to go. It seems like you all enjoyed the last chapter, so I don't have much to say beyond: Enjoy this one as well!**

* * *

Kiritsugu revealed his vast intellect whenever he planned for a combat encounter. It was incredible to watch him consider every variable and handle issues and complaints with well-thought-out counters. It was almost like he had planned for something like this in advance although, knowing the Magus Killer, he likely had.

Everyone sat around the table was involved. The planning had begun once Shirou, Rin and Sakura arrived and it continued while Shirou made dinner. Kiritsugu had initially intended to allow Shirou's rescued guest to make an appearance, but that had been moved to the back burner as the more pressing matter took front and center. A meal was delivered to her by the old man himself seeing as how she was most familiar with him at this point.

Kiritsugu was a firm believer that plans never survived initial contact and that the best plan didn't rely on location. Since the enemy could strike at any moment, a continual state of mind and readiness was required. The old man began by establishing a response plan should anyone be attacked. He reached a blockade when he tried to determine how everyone could transmit a signal to everyone at once while maintaining secrecy. Thankfully, Rin had the perfect solution.

Using formalcraft and abusing Fuyuki's ley lines, she could create gemstones with a certain frequency that would verify their own state based on the state of other gems on the same wavelength. If one gem broke, all gems on that frequency would simultaneously shatter. After giving genuine gems with a defined frequency for each individual person, Shirou could trace and replicate the gems and possibly even alter them into rings or bracelets for easier handling.

Rin would spend all night crafting seven gems in total for Shirou to replicate - one for each person involved, and an extra for herself so she wouldn't have to make unnecessary contact with Shirou. She would leave them at a specified inconspicuous dead-drop location for collection when Shirou went to school tomorrow morning. Sakura was in a similar position to Rin. Theoretically, she should have no knowledge of Shirou so she would only require one "distress gem" like Rin. Both girls would avoid any contact with either Emiya to minimize their risk of injury. Besides, only Illya, Kiritsugu and Shirou were major worries.

With Illya being placed under house arrest, she would have protection from Kiritsugu and Bazett should their home ever come under attack. Shirou was the only one in any real danger, but he could handle himself decently well. His goal, if he were attacked, would be to return to the Emiya house as soon as possible for reinforcements. Shirou was to avoid speaking with Rin or Sakura and was to take a very specific route home every day until they were sure an enforcer wasn't on their tail.

During the night, Shirou would be training double time to greater prepare for the incoming threat. This would be accomplished through Kiritsugu himself. It was supposed to have been a punishment for Shirou's actions but at this point, it was a test of readiness. The old man wasn't the most skilled combatant but he was different than Bazett, Rin or Illya in many ways beyond unpredictability.

"This isn't much of a plan." Rin huffed, drifting off to lean against Shirou in exhaustion. Sakura gave her a glare from across the table but due to the Tohsaka's closed eyes, she couldn't see it.

"Trying to stick to rigid plans gets people killed. You overlook new variables and growing issues when you expect everything to go as expected." Kiritsugu took a sip of coffee and Bazett copied the action. "Keeping a plan as open as possible is best when we have no idea what the threat could be. Minimizing the possibility of losses is our highest priority."

"Then why doesn't Senpai stay at home for a while as well?" Sakura asked quietly, sitting rigidly with her hands folded on her legs. It was her subtle way of expressing how much she disliked the entire situation.

"Because that would be abnormal and would indicate that we're expecting an attack. Our best bet is to dissuade the enforcer by appearing purely mundane," Kiritsugu replied calmly, getting a slow nod from Bazett.

Shirou wondered how Kiritsugu had heard about this predicament almost at the same time as him but that had been quickly explained by the Irish woman herself. Just before Shinji had encountered Shirou, she had gotten a call direct from her contract manager of a freelance mage who needed to be "handled". The pay was great, almost to the point of absurdity, but with it came the warning of extreme risk. Even after being in retirement for more than fourteen combined years, the Magus Killer was still equivalent to the Boogeyman in the magus community. The possibility of him still roaming the Earth unsettled a considerable number of magi within the Clock Tower. Apparently, several magi families had funded a bounty on his head.

Back to what was important, Bazett had declined the contract. She claimed she had done it out of respect for the man and a sense of pity. The old man wasn't doing anything wrong, he was just trying to live with his family…for the most part, anyway.

"So why can't I go to school?" Illya pouted, leaning against Shirou's other side, emulating Rin as best she could. Shirou could visibly see Sakura's irritation growing.

"Because a four-foot tall girl with pure white hair and demon-red eyes is hard to miss," Bazett snapped out, only making the demon-girl in question pout harder.

"What are _you_ going to do, Bazett?" Rin asked, slowly closing her eyes against Shirou. He was tense and trying his best to distance himself from the situation but if he moved in any direction, all three of them would fall over.

"I'm still an enforcer of the Clock Tower, so I'll be doing my best to hide with Illya so whoever shows up won't realize I'm working alongside Kiritsugu. Should I be found out, I'll have no choice but to engage and kill them before they can send word back to the Tower." Bazett's face was neutral, flat and emotionless even though she had just spoken of murdering someone. "I'll also be making sure your old man still knows how to fight, just in case."

Kiritsugu held a wide grin. Was it because he was reminiscing about his training with Maeve? Or did the prospect of a fight entice him that much? "I'm certain I can still hold my own. Back to the matter at hand, there will be no communication between us all until things have settled down, understand?"

Everyone gave an agreement in varying states of exhaustion. Once everything was concluded, Rin and Sakura said their goodbyes, offered Shirou a combined hug, then left together to head home.

Sliding the front door closed, Shirou let out a great sigh and allowed his shoulders to fall in exhaustion. So much had happened at this point in his life that it was becoming a little overbearing. Rin and Sakura, school work, Shinji, weird projection magecraft, an enforcer hunting him down and soon he would have all the stress associated with getting an education at the Clock Tower.

Shirou had finally decided on going. Rin had made it very clear that it was too valuable of an occasion to pass up. He could find new conceptual weapons or enhanced blades there. He might even be able to learn from a master in projection, should there be one. The only problem was how Kiritsugu would take it. Shirou hadn't let anyone beyond Rin know of his final decision.

He expected the old man would be furious, that he would fight against it and claim Shirou was jeopardizing his and Illya's safety. If the old man would just listen to what Rin and Shirou had planned he would see that all the bases had been covered.

That conversation would happen after this enforcer was dealt with, whenever that happened to be. Unknown to most, Shirou hated waiting. He was patient, but only because he could understand when waiting out the clock was a necessity. Shirou had always tried to get things over with as soon as possible, so having to hold himself back from looking for the enforcer was a strange feeling.

Tomorrow was a new day, a significantly worse day considering that he couldn't eat lunch with Rin or walk home with Illya. Shirou paused for a moment, running that specific thought through his mind. He would eat lunch alone.

A broad smile slowly crept along his face. That meant he could eat his _whole_ lunch for once.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Three days passed uneventfully. The gemstones from Rin were in the correct place and had been collected by Shirou right after school. To keep the package inconspicuous, they had been carefully embedded to the bottom of a water bottle with " _Shirou_ " etched into the side. Should anyone witness the collection, it would appear that he had just found his lost bottle.

The colours of the gems were matched to the person they were intended for. Rin had a deep red gem, Kiritsugu took blue, Bazett snagged Irish green without hesitation and Illya grabbed a milky-white stone.

When Illya first touched the gem, it exploded violently in a spray of magical dust. Shirou had made a shocked expression and with equal surprise, told her he hadn't traced the gem yet. The look on her face was hilarious. She was absolutely mortified at the thought that she may have single-handedly demolished the old man's carefully crafted plan. When Shirou told her he was just joking, she couldn't have been more relieved. After all the teasing she had given him over the years, little chances to get back at her were major victories.

With all the gems claimed, Shirou took the bright orange stone and left the purple rock for Sakura. Since only he and the Matou would ever be in public until this was sorted, he didn't bother crafting anything incredibly fancy for the other members of his house. It took some effort, but Shirou formed solid gem rings with everyone's primary colours as the base. Then he embedded the gems of everyone else on the surface so they wouldn't have to wear six rings at a time.

Sakura was a special case. Seeing as how she was a non-combatant, he had made her a single earring in dark purple that she could hide beneath her hair. It was collected - so he presumed - early the next morning.

Shirou, on the other hand, had to wear every colour and he couldn't let it be visible either. It had taken a little over an hour but he had made a very intricate, miniature version of a blade incorporating each colour of gem. The blade design was only so that it could be traced with such fine components. The gem was attached to a silver chain that he slipped over his neck. It would rest comfortably beneath his shirt over his chest.

Each gem operated in the same way. They would all remain intact until someone decided to break their respective colour. At that point, every gem of the same colour would explode in a puff of dust like Illya had demonstrated. Shards of gem did grenade outward, but they weren't large enough or fast enough to cause real damage. They were broken as soon as mana was sent through their form, something Illya was having difficulty with.

Due to the homunculus' extraordinary mana reserves, contact with her skin seemed to be enough to set the crystals off. In order to wear it, Illya had to actually create a small bounded field to rest between her finger and the ring.

With their alert system established, everyone settled into a slightly paranoid routine. Knowing Shinji as well as he did, it was easy for Shirou to avoid the Matou at school, and on his way home for that matter. Today, Shirou had paid a good friend of his a visit in the Student Council room. Today was the only day he could because Shinji had class at this time. Issei expressed some concern over his activity over the past few days but Shirou passed it off as a little stress. Ryuudou casually mentioned that it might have been the result of messing with Rin, to which a civil debate began over why Issei seemed to dislike Tohsaka so much.

"Haven't you ever noticed?" he asked. With one finger, he pushed his glasses into place and dexterously snagged a small piece of tamagoyaki from his bento.

"Noticed what?" Shirou narrowed his eyes, chewing the last bits of food in his mouth. It was Saturday, a short school day thankfully. Unlike most schools across Japan, Homurahara Academy was clinging onto Saturday classes. Although, according to Taiga, they were going to be forced into abolishing the weekend class this coming April.

"Come on, you hang around _her_ enough to realize that she has multiple personalities." Issei leaned forward, accusingly glaring at Shirou as if the question would decide his fate in a murder trial. Shirou offered a look of confusion before snorting. With a shake of his head, he grabbed a wad of rice and stuffed it in his mouth. "Hey!" the usually timid man shouted, getting Shirou's attention. "Don't tell me she's got you under her spell too!"

With one hand, he covered his mouth so he could laugh without offending Issei with a mouthful of food. "Her spell? Is she some sort of witch now?"

Issei slammed his open hands on the table, rattling both of their bento boxes as he stood from his chair. "I'm serious, Emiya! Her and that sister of yours both make my skin crawl." As if emphasizing his point, the man shuddered before sitting back down.

Shirou leaned forward, wrapping one hand around the other which still held onto his chopsticks. "Then this is really serious, you know what it means don't you?" The Ryuudou looked confused, giving a partial shake of his head with an agape mouth. "Well, it could mean a few things. But I think it means one of the two has rubbed off on the other, or they're so close that they've started to seem identical."

Shirou hid a smile as the boy visibly paled. "You think..? B-but, I told Miss Einzbern my thoughts on Rin last week when she cornered me in the hallway." Shirou wanted to be concerned. That scenario sounded _far_ from innocent but knowing both Issei and Illya, it likely wasn't deviant.

"I thought you watched Rin like a hawk, you should know she comes over to my house to get Illya to help with her classes." There was a soft thump as the pale boy planted his head on the table.

"You're right, how could I forget such a significant detail?" he mumbled, lifting his hands to sit on the back of his neck in silent anguish. "There's no other explanation, they've magically altered my memory with their witch powers."

Shirou laughed, a bright smile on his face as he cleaned up the scraps left of his lunch. "Come to think about it, I've never seen them during a full moon. Maybe they perform rituals in the forest near Ryuudou Temple."

The boy snapped upright, fiercely glowering at Shirou. "You seem to know an awful lot of details, are you sure they haven't trapped you in one of their spells? Have you drank anything in strange vials from them recently?" Ironically, he _had_. A couple of weeks ago, Illya had tried her hand at her family's craft - alchemy. It went as well as expected from a novice alchemist and severe vomiting ensued for the following five minutes. Once he had finished expunging his lunch, his mind had felt much sharper than usual at the very least.

With another bout of laughter, Shirou tidied up his lunch and put everything back into his bag. "Not that I know of. But if I was truly under their spell, why would they leave the memories of their meddling behind?" The glasses wearing boy lifted his head, thinking over the question at length.

Issei raised one finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Good point. Illya and Rin would be very thorough." Offering another analyzing glare, Issei sat back and finished the rest of his lunch. "You're clear for now, Emiya."

… … …

"Have you remembered anything yet?" Kiritsugu asked, moving into the room to offer their guest some breakfast. Over the past few days he had been trying to jog her memory or unblock it somehow. Cold as Kiritsugu was, he wasn't going to let a woman with absolutely no memories wander aimlessly around the city.

"No, I'm sorry," came a soft voice in reply. The tone was similar to Aoi's if only a tad stronger or confident. There was a rasping quality to it, but it hardly detracted from the overall message she tried to convey.

"That's unfortunate. We may have to try other avenues if your condition does not improve soon." By that, Kiritsugu meant that someone would have to manually unblock her memories using magecraft. It was crude, jarring, dangerous and it would force her into the magus world, but it was better than being a mindless drone.

Memory manipulation was a risky procedure which could kill both parties involved if it were to fail. Only a skilled first-rate magus like Rin would be able to pull something like that off, but at the moment she was isolated from them. "Hey Missy, how's it going?" came Bazett's unusually considerate voice from behind. The woman gained a sad smile upon her arrival, stating that things were no better than yesterday. "That's a damn shame. Hope the old man here can fix your problem quick-like." With unexpected force, she punched his shoulder and offered them two a surprisingly genuine smile.

"I'm sure I can retrieve your memories with a little more time, Missy." The woman did have a name. While more of a nickname, it served its purpose for the time being. Bazett had thought of it and the woman seemed to respond approvingly. "Now if you could excuse Bazett and I." He offered a short bow and moved to the door, gesturing for the Irish woman to follow.

Once outside, he realized her face held an almost imperceptible smirk. "Did I hit you too hard?"

He snorted, giving his head a shake. "Inform the Clock Tower that the Magus Killer can easily be taken down by one with the strength of a stray dog."

Bazett's face flattened, telling Kiritsugu that his bait had been taken. "You want to go for another round, old man?"

Kiritsugu found himself smirking. For a prodigious enforcer, Bazett was incredibly easy to manipulate. "You have to ask?"

… … …

Shirou yawned as he neared the doors to his property. It had been a long day with little to stimulate him. He hadn't felt any strange presence or eyes on his back, nor had he been approached by odd characters. Since he didn't have to attend archery club any longer, he was able to leave school as soon as it ended which meant he had watched Rin leave.

Just how long was this enforcer going to take? Playing the waiting game like this was getting tiresome and growing worse by the hour. Opening the door to the front gate and stepping through, Shirou was suddenly assaulted by a blast of magical energy. It was as if two tidal waves had crashed together and he was trapped in the epicentre. The sound of rushing air and heavy impacts was steadily flowing from the back yard. Without hesitation, Shirou ran around the side of the house to get to the backyard as quickly as possible. Nobody had broken their gems, so what was going on?

Rounding the corner, he stumbled upon an extremely devastated yard and located the source of this energy. Bazett and Kiritsugu were locked in a spar, throwing wild attacks that Shirou could hardly track. Shirou came just in time to watch the old man grab Bazett's arm. Sensing the follow-up attack, the Irish woman swung her leg up around his neck and threw him over by falling on her back. The two popped onto their feet and without pausing for a second, re-engaged. The old man had decided to use his coat for the occasion and judging by the magical energy flowing through every fibre, he was pushing it to the limit.

Bazett threw a cross which was barely halted by Kiritsugu's forearm. The impact made the sound of a moderate explosion and the ground around their feet cracked with the sheer power. With a shudder, the old man seemed to blur as one arm forced her away and the other impaled itself in her abdomen. After striking, he released a controlled breath and his body seemed to twitch as it righted itself.

Launched back, Bazett landed on her feet before collapsing on one knee to grip at her stomach. Neither of the two were pulling their punches. Kiritsugu had used Time Alter to pull off that attack and as a result, Bazett was coughing blood onto the grass. "For an old man you're still a pretty good spar, I'd say we kick it up another notch but I wouldn't want to level your house," Bazett commented, pushing off her knee to stand. Unceremoniously, she wiped the blood from her mouth with the sleeve of her suit and donned a vicious smirk. The old man in question hadn't broken his stance, glaring back with steeled, calculating eyes.

"So you're admitting defeat, again?"

The Irish woman laughed haughtily, competitive desire burning deep in her eyes. Shirou was all too familiar with women and their competitive natures, he knew this wasn't going to end well. To get a better angle on the fight, Shirou moved to take a seat on the engawa where his father always settled. He was surprised to find Illya there already. Noticing his presence, she offered a bright smile. "Hiya, Shirou! How was school?"

Seating himself beside her, he spared a confused glance. "You're watching a fight like this and that's the first thing you say?"

The homunculus made an affirmative noise, kicking her feet in enjoyment. "Daddy's winning and he has been from the start. Bazett hasn't noticed that she's outmatched yet so she keeps trying." Illya's words were emphasized by a warcry as the Irish woman lashed out another barrage of blows. Kiritsugu was actually struggling this time, having to use the trailing bottom of his coat to slow some of her limbs before he could deal with them properly. An unexpected hook kick caught him in the abdomen and sent the old man tumbling along the grass.

"She's trying so hard because they're tied," Shirou commented with his eyes glued to the battle. This was what a fight between real combat magi looked like. It totally eclipsed his spars with Rin and Illya but to be honest, it wasn't very much different than his training with Bazett. There was far less power involved in those instances, but it was at the same speed.

"What do you mean?"

"The old man and Bazett have been fighting like this for a couple of days now. They've battled four times in total and each of them has won twice. Whoever wins this settles the tie and becomes the champion until next time." The old man used Time Alter to snake behind Bazett, delivering a painful jab to her liver. No matter the amount of reinforcement, a strike like that would drop someone to the ground and Bazett was no exception here. "I think it's been good for Bazett. If you haven't noticed, she's been much more lively around the house."

Illya slowly moved her eyes from her brother to the fight ahead. "Oh, I just thought she was getting used to us."

Shirou snorted, leaning forward as his interest in the outcome grew. Watching fights had the potential to be an incredible chance to learn, especially when you were able to examine their every move and trace it to memory. Both parties were wearing their specially crafted gloves so every motion was being recorded on a medium Shirou could exploit. The old man had his fist caught and as a consequence, he was thrown onto his back. With a mighty hook, Bazett attempted to plow his head into the dirt. With one arm being held, escape seemed impossible. At the last second, the Magus Killer turned on his side and narrowly avoided the blow by centimetres. As Bazett's fist impacted the dirt, a massive explosion of dust and magical energy clouded the entire backyard.

Illya made a noise of shock and shielded her face from the oncoming chunks of dirt while Shirou tried to peer through the haze. Reinforcing his eyes offered a slight increase in visibility but the dust was too thick to cut fully through.

Shirou thought he saw the glint of metal and his suspicions were confirmed when the slash from a blade disrupted the dust cloud and cleared the area. Kiritsugu's right hand held a combat knife that had unsuccessfully tried to sever Bazett's throat.

They _really_ weren't holding anything back. Although, with Illya nearby, it wasn't as if there was any danger of death from such an attack. Bazett caught his wrist, twisting downwards while rotating her body in an attempt to break the limb. Rather than stubbornly try to hold her back, Kiritsugu moved fluidly while rotating his entire body to keep his arm straight-ish.

"Do you think Daddy and Bazett want to hurt each other?" Illya asked from his side, offering distraction to this much anticipated spar.

Shirou offered her a comforting smile. "I don't think so. For them it's probably a form of stress relief. The old man has been cooped up in the house with nothing to do for so long and Bazett has never had the chance to fight someone quite like him."

Illya hummed, carefully fiddling with the ring on her finger. The loud noises of impacts, grunts and shouts filled the silence as Illya digested the thought. "I miss school already," came a whine, although Shirou knew it wouldn't end there. "I miss all my friends and even homework. Then I thought about daddy and how he's been alone for so long and how-"

"And how he never leaves the house, yeah I've thought about it too," Shirou admitted, returning to absently watch his father fight. "He's doing it to protect us. He doesn't want his name to come back and hurt us in the future."

Illya made a short noise. "What's wrong with his name?"

Whoops. Shirou had never actually told Illya her father's nickname. In fact, he had made a point to keep it from her as long as he could. If she was asking questions of this nature though, maybe she deserved to know about her father's ugly past. "Kiritsugu is pretty well known by magi around the world. Over the years he's gotten such a reputation that they've given him a name, the _Magus Killer_."

… … …

… … …

There was a soft thump as his back was slammed against the wall. His head rebounded off the concrete in the same motion which made his mind thick and breathing difficult. Stars floated in his eyes and the world became a blurred mess. Shinji had practically been ambushed after school, lead to a back alley by a strange woman in a dark suit who claimed to want to speak with him. Damn his good looks! Why did good looking women always flock to him?

"I-I told you all I know, I swear!" he desperately shouted, trying to calm the woman currently roughing him up.

"Don't lie to me you seaweed-headed son-of-a-bitch," she hissed, leaning close to his face with a deadly grimace. "The information you provided is garbage. There's no homunculus and this Shirou Emiya kid is as bland as could be. You said you were friends but you can't even find him at school, and nobody seems to agree with your story."

"W-well…" he stammered, mind racing in an attempt at creating a story that could get him out of this. That damned red-head! Shirou must have purposefully avoided him at school and changed his route home. There was no other explanation for why the bot had seemingly vanished. "Why don't you ask my sister or Rin Tohsaka? They're both good friends of his, even if I'd couldn't find him they certainly would!"

The woman pulled him from the wall only to slam him against it once more. "Your sister goes to junior high and investigating a Second Owner without probable cause would cost me my job or my life." Carelessly, she tossed the boy to the side. He slid along the damp concrete onto someone else's boots, a man in a bright getup that was rather effeminate in design.

"It also appears that neither of the two are communicating with each other. From what I've witnessed, it's like they don't even _know_ one another." He huffed, lifting his leg and kicking the boy onto his front.

With some coordination, the woman reached down and lifted his head before it could smash on the concrete. "How about instead of yanking us around by having us follow you, you show us where the Magus Killer lives and we take things over from there."

"Y-you aren't here for Shirou?" Shinji ignorantly asked, getting a scoff.

"Why would I care about some pissant little kid and his sister? The bounty is for the Magus Killer. One hundred million to the magus that can claim his head. What his kids do after he's gone means nothing to me." With a rough slap, the woman sent the boy against the wall. "Come up with something. You've got two hours before we come back and start putting a little _effort_ in our interrogation."

Without waiting for him to input a single word, the two turned tail and walked away from him like he was dirt. Was that all he was to these people? A worthless pile of flesh that served only to accomplish _their_ goals? Shinji had expected a reward or at least some recognition for ratting out that red-headed Emiya. Being manhandled by some suit-wearing dominatrix and her rainbow coloured boy-toy hadn't been on his list of expectations.

Grumbling in steadily rising rage, Shinji picked himself up and dusted himself off. He had been thrown around like a ragdoll, disgraced and rolled around the ground like a piece of garbage. Who did those two think they were? These two were almost as vexing as Shirou, if not worse. Going to beg the old man for help against them wasn't going to do any good. Knowing Zouken, he'd just laugh at him and call him a failure. Besides, he had already asked one favour, going for another wasn't a good move.

Pressing a palm against his forehead, he stamped one foot against the cold pavement below. What was he to do? He needed concrete evidence, not just the fact that Shirou existed, but that he had special powers and that his father was the supposed _Magus Killer_.

Clawing at his hair, Shinji wracked his brain for a plan. What could he pull off in two hours besides…knocking on his front door? His eyes opened slowly and the desperation left his body as he thought the plan over. At the very least, it wouldn't make things any worse.

"I know you two are watching me." He spoke to the alley, looking up and around like a madman. "Just watch, I'll show you where he lives and if you want the old man, I'll show you him too!"

… … …

… … …

The battle had ended in a stalemate. With several solid impacts but a distinct lack of decisive strikes. Bazett and Kiritsugu had tired one another out before resorted to grappling. Surprisingly, they were about equal in height and weight ranges which meant they stalemated there as well. _Eventually_ , the two asphyxiated one another in a mutual hold and they simultaneously passed out.

Both of the combatants were pleased to hear that the score was still tied, and they were equally anxious to go another round. Shirou then pointed out that they were currently waiting for an opponent of indeterminate strength to come bashing down their door and that seemed to sober the pair. With Illya's healing, the two were on their feet running the fight over together to point out flaws and areas of improvement.

Illya also helped Shirou repair the backyard. After the large-scale battle, the entire area was devastated and it would have taken Shirou several hours with a shovel just to put the lawn back into a decent state. Using a spell Rin had taught her, Illya reconstructed the majority of the soil, using her memories to return it to a previous state.

"I really ought to speak to the old man about extending the bounded field to the ground as well," Shirou mumbled to himself, manually fixing some of the soil that Illya's spell had missed.

"Or~" Illya sang from somewhere behind him. Without warning, the rake in his hand was suddenly yanked downward and drug beneath his feet. Awkwardly stumbling over the front, he turned to see a strand of Engel Note dragging the tool away. "You could just let me handle it. I know you're not very good at magecraft but this sort of stuff is easy for me," she shrugged. The rake slid along the ground to her side where it righted itself for her to lean on.

Shirou blinked once, putting out one hand and projecting the very same rake with a cloud of golden sparks. "Four days ago I asked you to help me with something big for the first time ever and look at how that ended up." The two of them both flinched, Illya because of the sharp reminder and Shirou because his tone had been significantly harsher than he intended. "I don't want to ask you for anything in case I put you into another situation like that night. I don't want to get you killed."

When Illya remained silent for some time, Shirou focused on fixing up the rest of the yard. When she finally responded it came unexpectedly. "That wasn't your fault. I know you might think it was, but it was mine. I should have noticed that something was off about him. I thought I would be fine because I'm a magus but I overestimated myself and fell into a trap." Shirou continued levelling the soil in front of him, stubbornly trying to retain his resolve. That night _was_ his fault, he shouldn't have ever put Illya in danger. "I don't want you beating yourself up over it or thinking that I can't do something as simple as fixing the yard."

In mid-rake, Shirou sighed and lowered his shoulders. He didn't believe her of course, but saying he did would get her off his case. He could only avoid her lie detection in this occasion due to being positioned with his back to her. "Alright, I get it. I won't try to shelter you just because of what happened then."

He could almost hear the smile grow in her face. It was certainly evident by the change of her voice at least. "Good, just because I'm your little sister doesn't mean I can't protect _you_ once in a w-"

The chime of a bell stopped Illya dead. Without even thinking, Shirou dropped the rake and sprinted to the dining room where he knew Kiritsugu and Bazett would be. At the same moment, he accessed the bounded field to see where the threat was originating.

The front door? The signature was a very small amount of malice, but it had been enough to trigger the alarm. Shirou was just about to open the dining room door but it had been slid open for him. "Focus on the front door, we're ready if things go south so don't worry about us," Kiritsugu assured while the chime of a doorbell rang out. Illya shot up behind Shirou into the dining room with the old man while Shirou himself casually walked to the entrance. From the far end of the hall, Shirou could see the doorway and somebody was definitely on the other side.

The guest's silhouette was clearly visible through the door. They were a little bit shorter than Shirou, likely five foot eight and of slim build. That was all the deception he could really decipher at the moment. Their hair, clothes and the blurred nature of a silhouette made it rather difficult to determine whether they were male or female. As casually as he could, Shirou shouted that he would "be there in a minute" while deliberately slowing his steps to make it appear as if he had come from within.

A thought suddenly occurred to Shirou. Why would a trained enforcer try to battle a magus in his own territory? Why would they try to walk through the front door while broadcasting their presence? With that in mind, he felt a little more confident in opening the door, if only slightly. In one smooth motion, Shirou slid the door open and was met with the sickening sight of a smiling Shinji.

"Hey, my good friend Emiya!" He threw both his arms up in a wide gesture. He might have been prepared to offer a hug but Shirou had taken a step back out of his range.

So everything he was going to say was a lie, was it? Shirou could already tell that this interaction was going to be a sham from start to finish. Through the smile that failed to meet his eyes and the fact he had called him "friend" when just the other day they were declared enemies. "What do you want, Shinji?" Shirou asked in the most inhospitable voice he could manage. If someone was watching this interaction, it would be best to appear like rivals. Subconsciously, Shirou slid the door a little bit closer to himself, eliminating any chance the blue-haired boy had of slipping into the house.

"I was just in the neighbourhood and I wanted to see if your old man was around. Grandfather wanted to have a word with him about something pretty important." The smile that spread across his face revealed something rotten. That _important_ thing was Sakura most likely. Was this some sort of ultimatum? Sakura or Kiritsugu?

Shirou did his best to control his emotions, going so far as to reinforce the skin around his face so that it wouldn't shift or twitch. "Well, I'm sorry but he's not here. He went out a few minutes ago to buy groceries for tonight's dinner. I have no idea when he will be back but it isn't likely to be soon." Shirou could only hope that someone much more dangerous wasn't eavesdropping on this conversation.

Shinji's composure faltered a moment, edges of his lips flickering. "So you're alone then. Care for some company? Why don't we go out to watch a movie or something?" he asked all at once, pitifully trying to lead Shirou outside.

The redhead frowned, closing the door just a little more. "I don't know what's gotten into you but I'll have to pass. Maybe you can try asking your sister." Without waiting, Shirou slid the door closed. Just as he was turning, Shinji made one last snorting remark.

"At least my sister isn't a bitch."

The word made Shirou wince and it took all the willpower in his body not to turn around and throw himself at the Matou through the door. Instead, he closed both eyes and took a deep breath, trying erase the words from his ears as if that were even possible. If Shinji was being observed by whoever the Clock Tower had happened to send, a reaction like that might be just enough to inspire an investigation. As far as their names were concerned, they weren't related. The two wouldn't show up in any record system as siblings either. "You've been acting funny for a while now, Shinji. You should get yourself checked out because I've never had a sister."

Tracing the bounded field again, Shirou watched the Matou slowly leave the property. A long breath he hadn't known he was holding slipped out of his lips. There was little doubt in Shirou's mind that their house was being watched, now more than ever. Shinji had likely lead them straight here and while Kiritsugu's bounded field prevented sensory access, it was far from unbreakable. Moving to return to the dining room, Shirou rigidly stopped in place as the doorbell rang again.

Slowly turning to face the doorway, Shirou spotted two distinct silhouettes on the other side. Scrunching up his face, he ran a quick trace and discovered that Kiritsugu's bounded field was having difficulties discerning the exact position of these two. Their presence seemed to bounce between each other or flicker outward like a shadow in a moving light.

A sense of unease slowly draped over Shirou. This situation was already strange and he hadn't even opened the door. Slowly returning to the entrance, Shirou opened the door to a peculiar sight. There were two people standing casually at the door. One man about five feet eleven inches tall and one female around the same size. The woman wore a three-piece suit in dark grey, a fine article revealed by a trace to be made in France, as well as retain some sort of magical-interference properties. Enhancements on their clothes were likely the reason why Shirou's bounded field had a difficult time relaying their location. A deep blue tie and pocket square added a touch of colour to the ensemble, colour not found anywhere else in her attire. She wore black, uncomfortable-looking dress shoes polished to a mirror-like shine. Shirou could actually see his distorted reflection on their surface.

Her face continued this colourless palette. Cold, nearly grey-looking skin and thin but long black hair which descended to mid-back around her head. She wore small glasses which had no bottom frame that barely seemed to fit properly on her nose. Even now as she stood near motionless, Shirou could see they were slowly falling off. Her features were an odd blend between sharp and rounded. An extremely angular jaw and cheekbones contrasted with a small button nose. What really caught his attention was her eyes. They were a bland gray which reminded Shirou of hardened steel. Perhaps they were blades in disguise, they certainly seemed to cut like weapons. Shirou felt naked standing under her gaze and that was without the man beside her also glaring him into the ground.

Like north and south or hot and cold, the man was the antithesis of the woman. For starters, he wore significantly less clothing. On his chest was a near-transparent tank top cut off just below the nipple line. Around his waist were a pair of hotpants in similar material. Both pieces of clothing were decorated with random asymmetrical shapes in assorted rainbow colours. Looking at the design for too long actually made Shirou feel a little lost. Just like his clothing, his face was inverse to the woman's with a soft jawline and cheekbones and a sharp nose that offered him an effeminate look. If it wasn't for the fact that his body was absolutely shredded, he might have passed off as a girl. Every inch of his body featured toned, stone-like muscles which he enjoyed flaunting if his attire was any indication. His hair was separated into two segments. One side parted off to the left, draped over the side of his head in smoky blue. The other side was bright green, stuck upright in gravity-defying spikes. The right side of his head just above the ear had been shaved with an electric razor, leaving an undyed patch of blond hair behind. This was likely his natural hair colour because his eyebrows were a matching shade.

Like the woman, this man wore glasses although they were in an entirely different style Shirou had never seen before. Bright flaming oranges and yellows that completely obscured the eyes and reflected the sun painfully. They were angular sports shades that made it seem as if the man was permanently angry, or at least that was how Shirou saw it. A strange feature actually shared by the two was the bizarre odour of wet dog which seemed to come in waves.

"Good afternoon," the woman began curtly, breaking Shirou's attention from recording their appearances. She spoke English with a rather thick British accent. "We're freelance agents hired by the Mage's Association under the Clock Tower." So they weren't enforcers, but that didn't disprove the possibility of these two being dangerous combatants. Kiritsugu was a freelancer and he put up a good fight against Bazett even in his old age. "My associate and I are looking for a _Kiritsugu Emiya_. His last known location was this city and seeing as how you bear his family name, we were curious on whether you know the man or not." She spoke the old man's name with a sharp, unhidden venom that almost burned in his ears. While odd that they would approach him personally, Shirou supposed that it was their only option beyond waiting even longer for something that might not come.

As he considered his response, he realized that Rin was right. He really would need a mask if he was going to pull off lying to magi. If they were all like this, he would spill all his secrets to the first person he spoke to. Since deception was impossible in his current state, he would just have to tell the truth. He let out a quizzical hum, nodding slowly. "The Magus Killer, right? Don't really know him too well but he rescued me when I was very young."

"Rescued you?" the man interrupted, leaning against his suit-clad partner like she was a stone pillar. She didn't even budge from the sudden weight, making it obvious which of the two was the real powerhouse.

Shirou nodded, carrying on with his story. He wasn't used to English still, so he had a tendency to slur his words as he was thinking of them. It might not have helped appear honest, but it was the best he could manage."There was a massive explosion at what is now known as Central Park. I was heavily injured but Kiritsugu saved me before I died. As I said, I was very young at the time so I don't remember much of then, and I had lost all the memories of my life before. Rather than leave me to fend for myself as a child, he adopted me, purchased a home and found me another guardian before taking off after a couple of years. I only know about his nickname because he left a letter for me to let me know something like this might happen."

The woman hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms across her chest. "Can we see the letter?"

Shirou offered a genuine smile. "I would be more than happy to let you read it, but as soon as I let the paper go, it lit on fire."

Another hum, a curious glower. "It's not very often that someone loses all their memories as a child and becomes a magus, how do you explain the bounded field?"

Shirou laughed, but his mind was panicking. Rin had taught him an incredible amount and Kiritsugu had offered just as much, if only on a different avenue. In the magus world, people don't just fall into magecraft, it's passed down over generations. "Before he carried on, I begged him to teach me magic. As a child, it seemed incredible. Even though he was hesitant to start, he seemed to grow to actually enjoy teaching." Shirou scratched the back of his neck, hoping and praying that all of this was coming across as genuine and aloof. "I'm not very good at magecraft so don't expect anything crazy. The field just detects visitors and lets me know when they're approaching."

That was a partial lie. It did detect people, but only when they held a sense of malice or anger. The less these two knew, the better his chances were for an inevitable fight to end in victory. If the fight were to be at his own house, that was.

"You're being very forthcoming with information. Not many magi are so willing to speak of themselves in this manner," the woman pointedly commented, squinting her eyes a touch. She was right there. Far and few magi would ever reveal the details that Shirou had given so willingly.

"Well, you might be able to guess, but I'm not _really_ a magus. The old man just taught me the basics and I've had to slowly learn from there." Shirou had to choose his words very carefully. He wasn't too sure how much he could get away with, but they weren't fighting at the moment so that was good in his book.

The rainbow man hummed, then sighed and pushed off the woman to stand properly. "So you don't know where the Magus Killer is and you haven't for years?" His voice was deep with a smooth quality. It was also much more westernized than the woman, lacking the more identifiable English accents.

"Nope, I couldn't tell you where the Magus Killer was if my life depended on it." Battling a game of subjectivity and relativity like this was convoluted to say the least. Shirou had, in fact, told the truth, he didn't know where the _Magus Killer_ was as that part of Kiritsugu was supposedly locked away.

The two gave each other a glance, returning their attention to Shirou to speak in unison. "We'd like to search the house." The woman waited a beat then added a polite, "if you don't mind."

He had been expecting them to ask such a question for a long time. Casually, Shirou stepped back and offered a smile as they stepped into his home. They were about to step directly into the house with their shoes on but Shirou quickly made a noise and stopped them both. "You said you'd only look around, not track mud through the house."

The pair shared another brief glance before silently acquiescing to the demands. The two removed their shoes before continuing deeper into the house. With the duo leading, Shirou was able to trail behind and think about the situation.

He had only been expecting one person to come at Shinji's request. Two might pose a problem if they both happened to be skilled combatants. If they were individually on the same level as Bazett, Shirou couldn't see how they could survive without her help. Shirou certainly couldn't handle someone like Bazett going all out and Kiritsugu only had a fifty-fifty chance at victory revealed by the win-loss ratio of their spars. Even if the old man eliminated one with his Contender, the other might be able to take him out regardless.

That wasn't even including any special abilities either one of them might have. Shirou could tell that their glasses had magical properties. Both of the agents were hiding something. A memory suddenly played out in his mind.

… … …

… … …

Shirou felt like he had been submerged in rigid gel. Every inch of his body was stationary regardless of how much he strained his muscles or tried to move. Beyond the simple halting of his muscles, a creeping numbness was crawled through his body. It began at the ends of his appendages and steadily rose to his shoulders and hips. It was growing increasingly hard to breathe since he couldn't force his chest out to gather any air.

"That's good, Illya!" came the congratulatory voice of Rin. "You're able to hold Shirou much better than yesterday."

The homunculus hardly moved or responded, continuing to stare openly at her brother. "I've been practicing with Shirou ever since. Daddy said this would be a good skill to have," she mumbled.

"Trace, on-!" Shirou struggled to get out, a herculean effort to barely move his jaw and throat. The hammer of a gun fell and his circuits came alive with a pleasing green glow. The image of a hollow blade came to mind and slowly it went through the process of actualization. Upon forming in a few seconds, it fired out toward Illya and diverted her attention to the oncoming weapon. She stumbled to get out of the weapon's oncoming path but the brief break in eye contact was enough to free Shirou from his bindings. All at once, his body returned to him. He took a sucking breath, form snapping forward to close the short distance between her and Illya. The weapon he had fired earlier missed, hit the ground then exploded in a cloud of bluish-gold sparks. Shirou could see her eyes contract as she realized she had been deceived. Turning her head and forcing mana through the circuits across her body, Shirou was refrozen near instantly.

Illya took large huffing breaths as she focused on staring deep into her brother's eyes. She seemed nervous, but perhaps that was due to the blade in his hand being a hair's breadth away from cleaving her head in two. The bright crimson etchings on her face and body receded, leaving smooth porcelain in its place. Shirou's arm and hand holding the sword were shaking gently, a sign of the effort he was putting into striking her.

"Huh, I thought he would have had you with that," Rin commented from the side. Extending one arm, she flicked the side of Shirou's blade and the entire thing poofed into golden blue sparks. "Your Mystic Eyes are getting much stronger, but if you want to bind a magus like me you'll have to continue training."

With a turn of the head, Illya snapped her eyes onto Rin and the Tohsaka flinched visibly before locking into place. Shirou on the other hand, collapsed as the weight of his body spontaneously returned to him in his awkward mid-strike positioning. Taking gasping breaths as his chest was allowed to expand, he was able to watch the effects of Illya's magecraft on someone else for a change. "I'm sorry Rin, what were you saying? I couldn't quite hear you." Even collapsed on the ground behind Illya, Shirou could tell she was smiling.

Rin looked like a statue, eyes glaring down at the albino girl while she tried to move her arm. Unlike Shirou, Rin actually retained a steady, continuous motion of her appendages like she was stuck in slow motion rather than frozen stiff. That was until Illya put in a little extra effort and enabled the entirety of her circuits again. The tribalistic crimson lines splayed across her entire body and like a switch, the Tohsaka stopped entirely. The way she was stuck now, it almost looked like she was reaching behind her back for something. "You look upset, is it because I've finally gotten better than you at your own game?" the girl giggled, placing both hands behind her back while rocking on her heels. "You're too weak to deserve Sh-"

Then an explosion collided directly with Illya's face. Rin had never intended to actually reach for anything in particular. She was merely positioning her open palm in the proper direction in anticipation of Illya doubling her efforts. After being frozen entirely, Rin managed to mouth a spell with what little motor function she retained.

The blast wasn't large enough to cause major damage or destroy anything, but at that range it had knocked Illya out cold. Her limp form was laid out cold on the ground, expression of pained shock on her face. Since her circuits were still active, the crimson markings across her body had yet to vanish. "Guess I put a little too much into that one."

Shirou blinked, moving along the ground to make sure his sister was alright. A large patch of soot had stained her cheek but she didn't seem too injured. With one thumb, he wiped the mark off her skin and gently lifted her - and himself - from the ground. "You think?" he asked sarcastically, giving Rin a glare.

The Tohsaka shifted under his scrutiny, cheeks turning a shade of rose. "You know how hard she makes it to breathe, I was just defending myself."

Shirou sighed, looking at his unconscious sister with some concern. "At least nobody got hurt." Spacing for a moment, he realized that this might be a good time to let Rin know his concerns. "Ever since she started using her Mystic Eyes, they've been growing stronger. I've noticed that even her normal gaze is starting to affect me."

Rin hummed softly, eying the girl in his arm. "If she loses control of it, she'll have to wear special glasses is all. They're known as _Mystic Eye Killers_ to the Mage's Association, but they're just fancy glasses that block magecraft." The Tohsaka offered a small shrug, turning her attention to Shirou. "Just keep an eye on how her eyes develop, if you find the binding effect growing stronger, we might have to do something about it. For now, let her be."

… … …

… … …

So that's what kind of power they were dealing with, some sort of Mystic Eye. The thought was concerning. If they were on the same level or even greater than Illya's, he might not even be able to move, let alone fight with a sword. That was assuming they were Mystic Eyes and Binding in the first place.

"Quite a large house you've got here. You could probably host a dozen people comfortably, any reason why?" the man asked, opening a door to reveal a prepared room. Shirou had done his best to continually ensure that all the rooms of his home were ready for guests. It was easier than having to make up the room when someone appeared. It might have looked strange to have so many beds made and rooms clear but Shirou was very orderly and clinical in his room maintenance.

"Kiritsugu never told me why he bought this house, at the time the question never came to mind. If I were to guess now, I'd say it probably had to do with how cheap this place sold and the location. As for what I do with the size, occasionally my guardian sleeps over or friends from school stay the night. I've had evenings where friends and their families have all congregated here for dinner." Shirou laughed, scratching the back of his neck nervously again. "I also just love cleaning."

The woman hummed, sliding open a door carefully to look within. Most rooms of the Emiya estate was small enough that a proper investigation by stepping within wasn't necessary. "Pretty rare to see someone your age that _likes_ to clean," the woman mumbled, getting another chuckle from Shirou.

"I'm certainly not your average boy, for sure." The rainbow man slid open the dining room door and took a cautious step inside. From the hall, Shirou could watch him take a quick peek at the corners, then lean over the kitchen divider to look on the other side. Satisfied with his findings, or lack thereof, he plodded back to the hall.

"I hope you don't mind, but I would like to establish a small bounded field over the rooms we've already searched to prevent anybody from doubling back and hiding from us." Judging by the woman's tone, this wasn't a question or an option. In fact, she was already casting the spell before Shirou could make any response at all.

Stupefied, Shirou shrugged. "So long as it's just a detection field and you remove it when you leave I suppose it's not an issue." Cracking a bounded field wasn't an issue for him, but the fact that they wanted to place their own within a pre-existing one was strange.

It took a few seconds, but the woman finished the spell without issue and she turned to resume the search. Shirou really wished that he had a way to talk to Kiritsugu silently, to let him know that they were sectioning off the house and making it impassable. If the old man tried to loop around to an already cleared area, he'd trigger their alarm. Hopefully, his ears were still sharp in his rising age.

"Carry on, I'm sure you have other places you'd like to investigate while the trail is hot." Shirou tried to sound simple, carefully walking behind the duo as they split their investigation efforts to cover more ground. After every few rooms, another segment of their bounded field was laid down to ensure the already searched rooms remained void. Eventually, they got to Shirou's room, taking a little more interest than the other empty rooms. The man's eyes seemed to lock onto something behind his dresser and without even asking, he reached behind to withdraw Taiga's projected shinai.

Turning it over in his hands, he mumbled to himself, "huh, a cursed weapon made entirely out of mana." The man turned and held it up towards his partner and the boy himself. "Where'd you find this, kid?"

The kid in question offered a brief smile, a moment to buy him time to craft a half-truth. "It was something I stole from an old kendo partner of mine. It had a nasty bite to it and I took it away so it wouldn't hurt any more people."

The man hummed, replacing it behind the dresser before squeezing past the boy back into the hall. After seeing the way they acted and getting a better look at their faces, Shirou would guess them both to be in their mid twenties.

If their seamless cooperation was any indication, they had been partners in this sort of work for a long time. They obviously had morals as well. If they didn't, they would have just bombed the entire house, casualties be damned. That was something Kiritsugu would have done, anyway.

The two checked the old man's room next. Shirou and Kiritsugu had made a point to clean it out entirely. It was better to make it appear as if nobody slept in the room, that way Shirou wouldn't have to make excuses. Unfortunately, the old man had improperly made his bed and a couple creases lined the sheets. Leave it the man who dislikes housework to "Bed looks used, mind telling me who might have slept in it?" the woman asked, pulling open drawers in the desk unique to this room.

"Just the other night my guardian came over for dinner and she stayed over. She must have forgotten to make her bed properly before leaving." Shirou shrugged, expecting the next question to be which day specifically. As planned, the woman bought his bait and with a half-beat pause to reflect a genuine response, Shirou informed her it had been Wednesday.

"I do all my cleaning on Sunday, my day off. That's probably why I've missed it." Shirou explained the reason while moving forward and flattening out the sheets. Even though Kiritsugu's room used a Japanese style for decor, he had elected to awkwardly jam a western bed into the corner. He had claimed it was easier to get in and out of and Shirou would regretfully have to agree. Shirou liked Japan, it's culture and its history. But some things thought to be tradition were difficult when they didn't have to be.

The man opened the closet door and Shirou's heart reflexively beat faster. The one thing that hadn't been cleaned out was the closet due to the fact that they had no space for his clothes. Even from this less-than advantageous position, Shirou spotted the thick black felt of his father's iconic trench coat. The boy prayed that the pockets had been emptied out at least. What sort of incriminating items did the old man keep in that coat? The better question was how he could explain having a coat the Magus Killer was known to wear in his closet. Since he was going with the supposed "devoted to my saviour" route, he might as well stick with it. As expected, the man asked what the article was and Shirou adorned his smiling facade.

So far, the two appeared to be believing of his story. Then again, if they weren't, he'd likely be in the middle of some torture process right about now. "Kiritsugu always wore a coat just like that one. I liked it so much myself that I had one replicated but it doesn't fit my style very well."

Looking over the article in his hand, the man haphazardly threw it towards Shirou. "Yeah? Why don't you throw it on and let me see?" Catching the coat with slight surprise, Shirou folded it over in his hands to find the front. The rainbow man's plan was obvious but rather cunning. If Shirou had gotten the Magus Killer's coat replicated, he would have gotten it fitted to his own body as well. If the coat happened to be improperly sized, then Shirou could be called out on his lie. Shirou didn't even have to trace the article to know this coat would be too small. Shirou was larger than his father in nearly every area so the jacket would need to be altered if it were to fit.

But alterations were one of Shirou's specialties. The only thing he needed was a distraction so there wouldn't be eyes on him as he did what he had to. At the moment, both of the freelancers were staring directly at him with bated breath, lions waiting for a gazelle to stumble into their trap.

Shirou had never been so thankful as to have previous projections lying around. Taiga's shinai was still projected in his room, as it had been for years now and all of the data regarding its current form was resting comfortably in the back of his mind. He could exploit that knowledge by projecting something nearby to cause a commotion.

As if on cue, a loud clatter sounded from the next room and momentarily distracted the freelancers. Both turned their heads to look toward the sound and Shirou quickly capitalized on the moment. His father's coat was familiar to him, so the blueprint snapped into his mind in an instant. Incorporating dimensions taken from a self-trace, Shirou altered the measurements of his father's coat to fit his own body properly.

It only took a second but that was hardly enough time. Just as the alteration finalized, the woman snapped her head back to give their suspect a glance. Shrugging with a face just as confused as the woman, the boy moved to put on the coat as he was previously instructed.

"I'm on it," the man casually mumbled, stepping out of sight into Shirou's room again. The woman was left alone to watch Shirou slip on the coat. It was a little tight around the wrists simply due to the hasty alteration, but that could be excused by his growing body. In a few seconds, the man returned. "Must have put that stick down wrong because it fell over." He gave Shirou a good look over and clicked his tongue, likely an involuntary response to his suspicions becoming unfounded.

The woman crossed both arms over her chest again, eying the boy over like a piece of meat. "You're right, it doesn't suit you." She smirked, then walked past her partner. "Come on, we've got more ground to cover."

… … …

… … …

"Rin!" came a call from above. Aoi was such a soft-spoken woman that Rin often wondered how much effort it took her to shout. It wasn't normal for her mother to raise her voice but she had on occasion when Rin was working in the basement study. Aoi decided shouting was easier than climbing down the stairs herself, but the real reason might have been because she disliked everything to do with magecraft. Although, with how she had been forced to give away one of her daughters because of it, Rin could see why.

Setting her instruments aside, Rin pushed her chair away from the table and stood. She had been working on this project since the Shinji dilemma. Her research looked into Shirou's projected jewels and their differences compared to genuine gems. Like she was dissecting a lab animal, she had taken apart one real and one projected gem to learn the precise makeup of each one. According to Shirou, his projections would be identical copies where only the mana within would be different since he simply didn't have the reserves to fill the jewels.

But that wasn't the case. Sure Shirou's jewels operated in the same manner as their physical counterparts, but they were different at the same time. They held mana, they could take on mana and they released it as if genuine. Only, they couldn't seem to do any of these things quite as _efficiently_.

With the Tohsaka family affinity and Rin's dedication, she could get the storage conversion from personal mana to jewel storage to an eleven to ten ratio - for every eleven units she transferred, ten would be stored within each gem. Shirou's projected jewels on the other hand, had an unmoving five to three. No matter what she did to make the process more efficient, the ratio simply would not budge. That wasn't too much of a problem on its own, but the projected gems were also limited in capacity which _definitely_ was a problem.

One third of the full capacity was lost during projection. A projected gem would never be as powerful as the real thing and Rin was determined to find out _why_. Shirou could project swords that were the exact same as the original, enchanted items with their magical properties intact and even atomic-scale defects on original swords. The boy could do all this, but couldn't perfectly copy a gem? Then again, who was she to complain? She was selling his copies overseas and buying real gems that came pre-charged. Alone, she was barely able to fill two gems to capacity, but which Shirou's help, she was buying a half dozen and filling three to capacity _each year_. It helped that Shirou alleviated some of the burden by projecting his gems with a meagre charge already within.

Purging the thoughts from her mind, Rin clambered up the winding stairs to meet her mother at the top with an inquisitive smile. "Someone wants to speak with you, they wouldn't say why." Immediately Rin was put on edge. Nobody should be looking for her. Not only did her bounded field actively dissuade non-magi, but it was also threatening enough to repel magi as well.

Something stranger yet, the bounded field _hadn't even gone off_. It was supposed to tell her when a magus had entered. What was at work here? The smile on her face had faltered and the unnerved one that took its place seemed to spread to her mother. "Should I be worried?"

Rin took a moment to think about the question, instinctively reaching into the small pocket of her skirt to thumb the crimson jewel within. Was this going to be an attack? Scrunching her face nervously, Rin looked in her mother's eyes and nodded slightly. "Go to the kitchen, wait near the door. If you hear any strange noises or if you don't hear back from me in ten minutes, run to the Emiya household," she instructed, moving toward the door with her mind prepared for anything. She could hear her mother pause before obeying her demand. Aoi likely didn't want to leave her daughter, but since she wasn't a magus, she was useless in a fight.

Her mind flickered back to the day Kiritsugu rang her doorbell: a dark silhouette standing just beyond the glass, rain pouring outside to make the scene even more dreary. Tonight there was no rain, it was far from the evening and she was no longer some naive child. Bracing herself for what might lie on the other side, Rin casually opened the door to find- -

A little girl?

She was barely five feet tall, wearing some sort of outfit in pink that reminded Rin of princesses she had seen in those cartoons Illya often watched. It was unbearably frilly, gaudy and accented with pristine white accessories. Namely, the frilled elbow-length ballroom gloves and equally as garish petticoat. The woman was petite like Illya, but unlike the albino, she lacked the refined features and sense of style that seemed exclusive to the Einzbern. Comparing the two girls was like comparing a child who was playing dress-up to a real princess. Her face was soft but angular simultaneously. Large pouting lips, large, soft emerald green eyes and a cute little nose surrounded by flowing golden blonde hair. Currently, that hair was intricately braided to hang loosely over her shoulder and down her front. Little pieces of cloth and precious stones were wound up in the braiding to pay homage to what Rin could only assume was her royal background. "Greetings, Miss Tohsaka." She spoke in very clear, pronounced English with no detectable accent, similar to Kiritsugu whenever he spoke in English. "My name is Elizabeth Velum and I've come from the London Clock Tower, no doubt you've heard of me?"

Rin blinked slowly. As second owner, she was more or less forced to help any member of the Mage's Association, regardless of how arrogant and insulting they might be. The fortunate thing was that she didn't have to be nice about helping. Smiling in her mind, Rin donned a thoughtful expression. "You know, I might have heard about someone like you once. You sell grandfather clocks, right? Not interested," Rin calmly responded while closing the door at a slow rate.

As expected, the petite woman stopped the door and shouted for her to wait. Re-opening the door, Rin was delighted to find the woman with an aggravated bright red face. "Did you just try to slam the door in the face of an enforcer?"

Rin feigned a look of realization. "Oh, you're an _enforcer_?" The girl's face rose a few more degrees in temperature and Rin had to do her best not to laugh. While that _would_ get her angrier, it would also let her know that Rin had consciously been toying with her. "In that case, what can I help you with?" Casually, the Tohsaka leaned against the door, folding her arms in front of her chest.

The princess-pretender seemed a moment away from exploding in anger. Both hands were clenched into fists and her entire body seemed to tense like an elastic band. It was only a matter of time before she snapped and all that pent-up energy released. The woman closed her eyes and released a frustrated breath. "Do you have any knowledge of magi residing within the area?"

Rin nodded softly. "Of course, that's my job after all. Beyond myself, the Matou are the only other operating magi within Fuyuki."

The petite blonde hummed, turning her head off to the side and narrowing her eyes. "So she's going to be useless as well," she mumbled aloud as if Rin couldn't hear even though there was barely two feet between them.

Clearing her throat, the princess seemed to realize that she had been heard. "Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" Rin blinked once more and a wave of irritation crashed into her. The Tohsaka opened her mouth to speak a fragment of what was on her mind but the miniature monarch waved her hand and distracted Rin long enough to resume. "Oh well, I'll forgive you this time." The blonde imitated Rin by crossing both arms haughtily over her chest. She even went so far as to close her eyes, lift her head and snort.

Frustration was building within the Tohsaka until she reminded herself that this was how normal magi operated: like idiots all full of themselves. She had grown so used to Shirou's accepting and friendly nature that she had nearly forgotten how hostile the magus world was. Forcing her emotions down, Rin's mind cleared and all the training of magi etiquette came back to her. "If you don't mind my asking, what is it you are here to investigate?"

The petite princess opened one eye, giving Rin a sharp questioning glare. "I suppose since this is _your_ city, you have a right to know," she sighed, dropping her arms and opening the other eye. "A few days ago, information regarding the location of an infamous contract killer was released. Apparently, this individual has been living in Foo-yuck-ee for several years right under your nose."

Rin physically cringed at the gross mispronunciation of what she thought was a rather simple city name. Putting that aside, for now, Rin focused on the important questions. "Is this contract killer anyone I would have heard about?" Eyes widening a touch, Rin remembered that her mother would still be waiting at the back door to leave. Turning her head and speaking in Japanese, she gave the all-clear before returning to the princess ahead of her.

She seemed upset at being ignored even for a couple of seconds but the blonde didn't voice any particular irritation. "Possibly. He's known as the Magus Killer to most but the Association has released his information to the public. Kiritsugu Emiya, previous freelance agent under the Clock Tower with two-hundred-seventeen confirmed magus kills and who knows how many undocumented murders he's made. Kiritsugu's been all around the world and has manipulated people even smarter than myself into working to his benefit." The blonde looked genuinely concerned, an emotion that didn't suit her faux royal features.

Rin actually found her concern contagious. If Kiritsugu was such an evil person, why did he seem so kind and caring toward his family? Then again, he had gotten Rin to teach his son and daughter magecraft for next to nothing. Having your children instructed by one of the three founding families of the Grail War was something noteworthy alone. Thinking things over, Kiritsugu _had_ manipulated her in some capacity. She would have to speak with him when things died down if only to determine what the man truly believed.

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything to help you with but if you find something I can do to assist I'd be more than happy to do it." Rin offered a practiced "genuine" smile to express her cooperation.

"Actually, a pair of freelance agents have taken the contract as well. I was wondering if they had come to speak with you any time soon." The petite princess held one hand over her mouth, deep in thought no doubt.

With a shake of her head, Rin's face returned to a neutral position. "You're the first person to speak with me about the matter. If freelancers are in Fuyuki, they haven't notified me." While it wasn't mandatory to notify the second owner when entering their residing town, it was certainly good manners. However, if the visiting magi wanted to avoid enforcers like this, Rin could certainly see why they would avoid her.

The Tohsaka actually wished she had known where the freelancers were. Enforcers and freelancers were like oil and water. Separately they were fine, but they refused to mix. It was a consequence of the money-driven market surrounding heretic and sealing designate hunting. While freelance agents could net significantly more money for their contracts than enforcers, they had no assistance or backing, and their actions weren't officially condoned by the Mage's Association either. A benefit of being a freelance agent was that there were no rules or regulations to abide by. This freedom rapidly turned into a liability when enforcers took on the same contract.

The main goal for enforcers was to claim the contract and recover their work so that they could get paid. If a freelance agent happened to fall during their contract, they were simply marked off as an unfortunate casualty. This resulted in animosity between enforcers and freelancers. While enforcers could make the first strike and kill a freelancer, freelancer's couldn't attack enforcers without being labelled an enemy by the Clock Tower.

"Damn, hopefully they aren't ahead of me, I got here as soon as I could," the princess mumbled to herself, sighing in exhaustion. "Thanks anyway, if you hear anything just use my card." A glove-clad arm snaked beneath the collar of her dress, reaching down the centre of her chest to withdraw a seemingly average business card. Rin grasped the card between two fingers with trepidation, curious as to where she had pulled it from.

Before she could really ask, the woman turned on one heeled shoe and strode off toward the street. Left standing in the door with the card in her hand, Rin looked over the card before stuffing it into her pocket. With squinted eyes, she watched the enforcer leave through the front gate and carry off into the afternoon.

Rin turned around to see the sad smile of her mother standing just some distance behind her. "This is something to do with that Emiya boy, isn't it?" she asked, closing her eyes slowly.

Rin grumbled and cast her head to the side. Her mother was a very perceptive woman, she could see through Rin as if she were made of glass. Just how she managed such a feat was beyond her. "Unfortunately, the little idiot messed with someone who never once considered consequences."

Aoi giggled slightly. "You always look so determined whenever Shirou is brought to mind, it's almost like you're trying to accomplish a goal that's just out of reach." Her mother took a few soft steps forward and laid a hand on Rin's shoulder. The contact made Rin face forward, eyes looking deep into her mother's with some surprise. "You've always made me so proud, Rin. Even if I haven't done much to help you grow, you've become such a strong woman with so much potential. If your father were here…" she trailed off, looking down between the two before returning her gaze and smiling a little wider.

Rin waited for her to finish, but the end never came. Aoi let her hand fall from her shoulder and took a short step back. Rin thought about it for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds at the most. Would he be proud of her accomplishments? Would he be happy that she was living a somewhat normal life? What would he say about the red-headed boy and albino she was teaching most of her secrets to? He'd be upset, likely. Placing so much faith and trust in another person, let alone a magus, was never his way. He would have let the two flounder around uselessly, Kiritsugu's deal and subliminal threatening be damned.

"Your father wasn't as cold as you think, Rin." Aoi shook her head, breaking Rin from her thoughts. "He was always thinking of you and Sakura, always trying to give the two of you the best lives he possibly could. That was why he had to make the unfortunate decision to give Sakura awa-"

"But why!" Rin shouted abruptly, surprising even herself at the emotion in her voice. She could feel the heat rush to her face and the hot feeling in her eyes, but she forced it all down and tried to retain some of her decency. "Why did father have to give Sakura to the Matou? We could have lived happily together, even if she wasn't a magus, she still would have been my sister." Even through all the resistance Rin had put up against her emotions, a tear sneaked its way through and where one came, many more followed. "Do you know what life has been like for her ever since she's lived there?" Rin asked, allowing the tears to drop down her face.

Aoi slowly shook her head, still in shock at her daughter's explosive release of emotion. "It had to be done, we had no choi-"

"She's being _raped_ by _worms_ every day," Rin interrupted, silencing the room in one sentence. Rin closed her eyes, preferring not to watch her mother's reaction to the knowledge. There was a long period of silence as the sentence settled like a dense fog. "Every day, the Matou _training_ throws her naked in a pit full of writhing worms that crawl around and _inside_ every inch they can get at." Reflexively, Rin curled her arms around her chest, disgusted at her own description of what she had seen time and time again.

More silence filled the room, placing an unbearable pressure against her ears and heart while the soft patter of two sets of tears on the floor broke the silence. In a very soft, almost broken tone, Aoi calmly asked, "How do you know?"

Keeping her eyes shut fast, Rin took a shaky breath. "Years ago, I secretly put gems into Sakura's things. They were a special type of gem, designed to provide a glimpse into the surrounding area. I've seen how she lives at home, how her classmates treat her and what that old worm Zouken has spoken to her about, but I never saw her go into the basement until recently." There was a pause as Rin swallowed thickly. Going over the details again, Rin wondered how she hadn't seen the clues.

Rin had purposefully abstained from mentioning the times when she had watched Shinji beat and violate his own step-sister whenever he so desired. Rin didn't want to completely shatter her mother's perceptions of her daughter. Sakura didn't even put up any resistance, allowing him to do whatever he pleased with her body. "When she and I were sleeping at Shirou's house weeks ago, I snuck into her room and placed a sigil on her body using one of these gems as a source medium. Rather than being in her clothing or bag, it would cling to her skin and follow her everywhere." Rin would never forget the first day she watched as her sister calmly strode down the stone steps into the basement, towards those writing, foul things all teeming to reach her.

It hadn't been a one-time event, either. To Sakura, it was daily routine. Every day, at a specific time when she happened to be home, she stepped into that basement for hours at a time only to leave as if the event had never happened. It sickened Rin to watch her sister go through the torture, it sickened her to know that she could avoid it if she really desired. She could simply stay at Shirou's, as the old man always allowed her to go out whenever she so desired. Was she punishing herself by staying in the same house as Shinji and Zouken? Or did she pity the blue-haired boy and torture herself for his sake?

Opening her eyes and wiping the tears from her face, Rin looked over her mother. Her legs were wobbling and her skin seemed deathly pale as if she were about to faint. With some haste, Rin wrapped her mother up in an embrace as she collapsed under her own weight. Even without reinforcement, the woman was light enough to make supporting and moving her to the couch a simple task.

When her mother was laid out comfortably, Rin stood and realized that she had fainted. Likely, the thought of her daughter living through hell every day had been too much for her. Sighing, Rin collapsed herself into the nearby chair, sniffling and wiping the tears from her eyes. Sakura wouldn't suffer much longer, would she? Shirou had always said that if a situation arose where she could be rescued for good, Kiritsugu would leap at the chance. The man had succeeded once, but that success was temporary due to the old worm's essential state of invincibility and his overwhelming potential as a magus.

Leaning her head over the back of the chair, Rin took three long breaths to calm herself down. With her body, her tears and her emotions all under control, she returned to her natural composed state. It wasn't common for her to break down, but Sakura was a very touchy subject, to say the least. Looking over her still unconscious mother, Rin stood up from the chair and casually walked to the kitchen.

Grabbing a class from the cupboard and filling it with water, Rin took a long drink before stumbling onto the landline. It was a device Shirou had more or less forced her to install in her house after explaining all sorts of benefits to her. The primary advantage of having this useless pile of electronics in her house was a magus-free connection between them.

The two could communicate without worry of their conversation ever being tracked or intercepted by another magus, especially since most magi avoided technology like the plague, Rin included.

Picking up the receiver, Rin punched in Shirou's cell phone number and held the cool plastic to her ear. It rang three times before a rustling noise filled her ear.

"Shirou Emiya speaking." His voice was different than she was used to. It was a little deeper but flat at the same time, more like his father's.

"It's _Red_ , just calling to let you know an enforcer showed up at my house asking questions about freelance agents. Don't know if you've seen anything strange but I thought I'd give you a heads up." During the meeting at the Emiya house, Kiritsugu and Shirou had decided on codenames for everyone based off their respective colours. While basic, it was effective for the time being.

There was a short pause, then the sound of rustling again. What was that boy doing over there? His voice had brightened an octave and there seemed to be more emotion in his words as he recognized someone he knew was speaking on the other end. "It's nice that you called Mitsuzuri, but I'm a little held up with something right now."

Rin blinked, straightening from the counter and placing one hand on her hip with the receiver resting in the other. She opened her mouth to comment on the blatant misnaming but stopped herself short. "Someone who can't know about us is there with you, aren't they?"

… … …

Shirou looked between the two freelance agents currently searching one of the larger rooms just before Illya's. "Yes, I'm really quitting archery for good." Rin was a smart girl, she should be able to pick up on the subtle meaning behind the coded messages he was sending.

There was an audible breath from the Tohsaka. "Well you haven't broken the gems so I assume they're being nice. I don't know how you manage to skirt danger like this but keep it up. If we can somehow bait the two together, they're bound to start fighting amongst themselves." She paused once more, deciding on continuing anyway to alleviate the awkward silence. "The less we have to get our own hands dirty, the better."

Shirou watched the brightly-coloured male throw open a wardrobe drawer and look over the contents before proceeding to put things back in order. When he was satisfied with his search, he gave a crisp nod to his companion. The two simultaneously glanced towards the boy on the phone before moving onto the next room, Illya's. "Cleaning up the dojo might be a little harder, but I can give you some hints on how to make it faster."

Rin hummed against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "You've got a plan then, I presume? I guess I'll leave things up to you." There was a pause, then the sound of an inhale which stopped Shirou from responding. "Hey, if they're searching your house, where are you hiding Black and White?"

"Alright, sounds good. I hope your Sunday goes well, see you tomorrow!" Ignoring the angry shouting coming from his cellphone, Shirou snapped the device closed before stuffing it in his pocket.

"A classmate?" The woman mumbled, halting her search to stand in front of him accusingly.

Shirou nodded and offered a kind smile. Rin technically was his classmate in magecraft, so he could confidently say "yes" without hesitation.

The woman squinted behind her clear spectacles, whose steel-grey eyes trying to search for any clues that might have been splayed on his face. "Well, it looks like we're done with the house. You've got two buildings in the backyard, mind if we check those over as well?" She asked, trying to get some sort of rise out of Shirou.

Cool as a cucumber, Shirou shrugged. "I've got no problems if you've got no problems."

Humming, the brightly-coloured man shoved past Shirou, intentionally pushing him aside for one reason or another. Shirou scrunched up his face in confused irritation but let the act slip. "I'll check the concrete shed, you can check the other building," he called back to his accomplice.

The two entered the backyard and split as decided. Since the storehouse held his workshop, Shirou elected to follow the brightly-coloured man rather than the woman. "While I don't want to make it seem like I'm guilty of anything, this _is_ my workshop, so I'd rather you not look at my work too extensively." Thinking of something to further dissuade the man, Shirou thought up a quick excuse. "Some of my projects are rather personal."

That comment unsettled the bright man, as he took a half second to glance back toward Shirou with a hundred unspoken questions. Since Shirou couldn't see his eyes, it was difficult to tell what his true reaction was. "Yeah, sure kid." Carefully, he pushed open the weighted door, making a loud, continuous creak as it opened.

The investigation was quick, thankfully. The man looked around, investigated each corner of the shed and then decided that nobody was, or could be, hiding within. His search was very concise. The only point that gave him pause was at the large steel safe in the back corner of the house. Shirou didn't blame him. The bounded field protecting it was quite intense. According to Kiritsugu, it would violently explode if someone even _attempted_ to mess with it. Shirou valued his face and hands, so he had left it alone.

As far as Shirou knew, it was the only thing the old man hadn't given him access to. Whatever was inside must have been pretty important to hide away from his son of all people.

"Still nothing?" came a female voice from behind. Turning, Shirou spotted the suit-clad freelancer. Now that Shirou thought about it, what was it with female magi and suits? Bazett and this woman both opted to wear traditionally masculine attire. In Bazett's case, the choice made some sense at least. A suit covered the entire body and with Bazett's runecraft, she could reinforce the entire outfit. But this woman had no such enchantment on her attire, Shirou would know.

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing just a little too tight. "Well kid, looks like you're clean. Hope you don't mind but we'll be keeping a close eye on you just in case the Magus Killer pays you a visit..." Shirou was still looking toward the woman, but his true attention was being paid elsewhere. In his peripheral vision, over the woman's shoulder outside, were three people scuttling across the roof.

Shirou had to keep his eyes locked on the freelance agent so he wouldn't inadvertently expose his family while they relocated. "If that's what it takes to clear my name, fine by me." Shirou offered a tiny smile, getting the woman to narrow her eyes suspiciously. A red and black shape carefully moved over the peak of the roof out of sight but the smaller white shape was lagging behind. If the freelance agent turned around, they'd be found out for sure.

"Well, I suppose we should be going then. I'm sorry for the intrusion." The freelancer's foot scraped against the concrete floor and Shirou's eyes widened. Illya still wasn't over the top of the roof and the woman was about to spot her.

"Wait!" Shirou awkwardly shouted, halting the woman in mid-turn. She raised one eyebrow, pushed up her glasses with one hand and calmly asked what the problem was. "Well…" He paused, grasping at straws for a distraction. "You can't be so busy that you can't stay for a cup of tea?"

The woman looked over her shoulder into the eyes of her accomplice. "I hate tea," came a half-growl from his side.

The woman rolled her eyes. "While I do enjoy tea, it wouldn't be fair to my partner to force him into it. Beyond that, we should really continue our investigation while the information is still warm.

The man laughed, stepping beside his partner and offering a vicious smirk. "Sometimes, to crack a difficult case, you have to go over the source material a little harder as well."

The two shared an eerie smile before refocusing on Shirou. With the two of them in the doorway, he couldn't see if Illya had made it over or not. He was operating on blind faith at this point. "Well, I wish you good luck. If what you say about my adoptive father is true, it's best that you stop him before he can hurt anyone else."

The boy nodded, holding that small genuine smile for as long as he could. The two freelancers exchanged a glance before turning and walking out of the shed. Shirou almost sighed in relief when he noticed that the roof was clear.

… … …

Shirou gently slid the front door closed, releasing a breath he had been holding for the past hour. He had never felt so tense in a situation before. His shoulders and neck were actually sore from how tight he had kept himself through the entire exchange. A soft impact noise from the backyard stirred him from his own worries. Lightly jogging to the back, he spotted Kiritsugu and Bazett helping Illya down. The homunculus leapt off the edge of the building into their waiting arms with surprising grace.

"I don't think they bought the story very well," Shirou commented, sitting down on the edge of the engawa.

Kiritsugu snorted, ruffling Illya's hair as he spoke. "Anybody with more than half a brain could see through any tale we gave them at least partly. There's too much here that coincides with Shinji's story, too many pieces that add up."

"Mix that with a pretty unbelievable cover story and the quick memory wipes we've done across Fuyuki and things start looking more suspicious than usual," Bazett added, stepping up onto the engages beside Shirou.

"We've got other problems. Tohsaka called, an Enforcer came to her house asking questions about the Magus Killer." Shirou placed his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands over his mouth as he mulled the thought over.

Bazett stopped abruptly, stiffening. "Did she say what the enforcer looked like? Maybe even gave a name?"

Kiritsugu shrugged impassively. "What's important is that they have nothing solid to go off of. Depending on how by-the-book these freelancers are operating, they might not be able to attack without concrete evidence." Illya looked between her father and brother before sighing.

"You both get the same look when you're planning like this, I don't like it." Casually, she stepped away from her father to follow Bazett inside. Shirou followed her path inside with his head and when he turned his head back, Kiritsugu had moved forward to grasp the collar of his coat.

Thumbing the material between two fingers, he looked his son up and down and made a deep hum. "I don't think it suits you very well. Besides, you might send off the wrong message at the Clock Tower if you wear the Magus Killer's coat."

Shirou felt the blood drain from his face. Opening his mouth to speak, he found that he couldn't get any words out but the overall message was still the same: "You know?"

Kiritsugu gave a warming smile. "I might be old, but I'm not old enough to miss the obvious signs. I know Bazett spoke to you about the matter and you've been avoiding speaking about magecraft with me ever since." He stepped up into the engawa, standing still at Shirou's side. "I'm not going to stop you, you're old enough to make your own decisions and you're smart enough to think things through." He paused, silence and the chill of early evening settling over them pair. "Before you go I want to give you something important but we'll have to deal with these enforcers and freelance agents before I can."

Shirou looked down at his knees, considering their options. "Either way it looks like we'll have to fight."

Kiritsugu hummed, laying one hand on his son's shoulder. The old man hardly ever showed such affection through contact like this. It was actually rather foreign, though far from unwelcome. "Sometimes it's the only option."

With that passing wisdom, he left to enter the house, leaving the red-headed boy to his own devices. With time alone, Shirou contemplated the near future, how he would handle two separate groups both seeking to claim his father's head.

… … …

… … …

Sakura didn't really like Sundays if only because of her schedule. Everything seemed to land on the day and as a consequence, she had to rush around trying to get everything done. Her day began with school, then she had to rush across town to the junior Kyudo dojo before ending with her picking up groceries for the week. To be fair, she could have bought food some other day in the week but Saturday always left the market open. Stepping out of the dojo, she made a little sigh before reaching up to fiddle with the ribbon in her hair.

It was a nervous tick really and she ought to rid herself of it. The habit was difficult to throw aside, however, especially when she was given another toy to fiddle with. As if her body was attuned to her thoughts, the same hand moved further back to feel the glossy surface of her new earring.

Sakura knew it had been made with a purely tactical sense in mind but deep down she liked to believe that Shirou had meticulously crafted the gem specifically to her tastes. She wasn't one for gaudy, flashy trinkets and she couldn't bring herself to buy anything that made her appear worth more than she really was.

Her earring coincided with both of these points. It was simple but symbolic and it could easily be hidden away so it's value would never be realized. Thinking about the gift and Shirou brought a curl to the edges of her lips. Sakura hoped this whole issue Shinji had started would blow over soon. She could only see Shirou again once everything calmed down and even though it had only been three days, she was getting a little anxious.

Visiting Shirou was her guilty pleasure, her last light in the abyss that was her life. Autonomously following the well-remembered path to the nearby market, Sakura gently lowered her head and allowed her body to take over the journey.

It wasn't five minutes before she bumped into a wall. Blinking, she wondered how she had managed to lead herself the wrong way. Looking up, she realized that she hadn't wandered off the path, but someone had wandered into hers.

She reflexively apologized before trying to move around the individual, only to find someone else had moved in to block her path. Looking up to their faces, Sakura found two strangers beaming down at her with an unfriendly glower. "Afternoon, Miss Matou. Might I ask where you're heading?" The woman spoke first, thin lips and cold skin unnerving Sakura slightly. There was something strange about the glasses she wore, but Sakura couldn't quite place what it was.

Stuttering in surprise, Sakura took a half step back before regaining some composure and speaking normally. "I'm on my way home, my family is expecting me soon," she lied. If these strangers were kidnappers, it was best to feign expectancy.

"Oh?" began the man to her left. He couldn't see his eyes very well due to the strange reflective sports glasses he wore, but she could feel his piercing gaze regardless. Judging by the time of his voice, he knew her story was a lie. "Isn't your house in the opposite direction?"

Sakura paled, mind turning to static at the chilling comment. They knew who she was and where she lived, this wasn't normal, this was the start of a nightmare. Were these the people from the Mage's Association that she was supposed to watch out for? A million questions on what they might do and what she _should_ do flickered behind her eyes but before she could move, she had already been trapped. A hand landed ominously on her shoulder, squeezing tighter than she was comfortable with.

This was bad and it was going to get worse before it got better. Activating her magic circuits, the sound of shattering glass assaulted her ear. It was better to be safe than sorry. Sakura could only hope and pray that she was overreacting, or that Shirou would find her before it was too late.

There was a slight pressure against her neck before the world suddenly went dark and she was sent to that dark place deep within her mind, that _hell_ that never left her for a moment.

… … …

All at once, four gems exploded in a puff of glittering violet shards. Silence descended over the dining room as everyone took a second to acknowledge what that signified.

Shirou was the first to move, practically jumping up from his seat and bolting toward the door without a word. In three seconds, he was out the front door. the door and running down the road in the dim light of sunset. It was Saturday, but what time was it? Pulling his concentration away from running, Shirou reached into his pocket to check the time on his cell phone - as he didn't own a watch.

Roughly quarter after five, meaning Sakura was leaving junior Kyudo to get groceries. Shirou didn't know the entire path she took from the dojo, but he was certain he could lock onto her trail after arriving there. The tracing technique that he had used for Illya couldn't be applied, but his nose certainly could. Unlike anyone else in his life, Sakura had a pronounced, distinct scent that seemed to cling to her skin: Fresh flowers, a light and pleasant aroma which had been with her ever since Shirou knew the girl.

With his sensitive schnoz, he could easily follow her trail so long as it was fresh. Three blocks away, such a small distance but even short spaces could take so much time to cross. It reminded him of his earlier flight through the streets of Fuyuki in search of his sister. How such short distances could appear so far was confusing and frustrating simultaneously. If magecraft was as incredible as Rin claimed it to be, why hadn't anyone developed a teleportation spell?

Slowing his sprint to a jog as he neared the dojo, he took a second to catch his breath, changing his focus to smelling the air. Within seconds, he was able to catch onto the nearly dissipated aroma of flowers. Jogging to keep his pace up, but his nose active, he followed the trail to a specific spot on the sidewalk. From here, the trail took an awkward turn to the other side of the street. Crossing, the scent grew stronger with each step. She was nearby, likely being lead or carried at a slow, inconspicuous pace. Even with magecraft, it was best not to attract more attention than necessary.

Taking two corners, Shirou spotted the perpetrators. One in a suit, the other as bright as a spotlight in that rainbow getup. He could see, even from behind the pair, that the woman was carrying Sakura bridal style. What made them guilty as charged was the fact that they were heading _away_ from the Matou manor.

Feeling a sense of anger boiling within, Shirou's voice shouted out before he could consider what he was doing. "Hey, freelancers!" After speaking, a minor sense of dread washed over the boy. What sort of stupid mistake was he making? Was he really challenging two freelancers to a fight for Sakura _alone_?

The two turned, both holding expressions of confused surprise. The woman seemed to clue into things faster than the man, furrowing her eyebrows and scowling partly. "I had believed you didn't know the Matou girl, but it looks like you've been paying close attention to her safety." She paused then, settling Sakura gently on the cool concrete below. "What else have you lied to us about, boy?"

The story was crumbling, Shirou would have no choice. These two knew he was hiding _something_ , he'd have to deal with them both. Behind their backs, over the horizon, the sun offered its last few minutes worth of light. "Everything I've told you has been truthful. Neither of you asked about Sakura."

The man snorted. "Then let me ask a different question. Is Kiritsugu Emiya, otherwise known as the Magus Killer, still alive in Fuyuki?" He crossed both arms over his chest, continuing to glare while Shirou stood there dumbfounded.

He couldn't answer such a well-worded question. There was no inch to offer a half-truth or anything he could say to deny it. If he lied, his face would give it away and if he told the truth…

"Tch, that's what I thought. So that coat _was_ the Magus Killer's." The woman rolled one shoulder. "Well, no better way to draw out the man himself than by torturing his son until he cries out his name."

* * *

 **The next chapter might be a bit delayed, but the future for both myself and my beta looks pretty open so I should be able to put out chapters in less time. (Theoretically anyway)**

 **As for questions, I don't really have anything to ask you guys. Maybe you could tell me what you think about the freelancers and the enforcer or try and figure out what kind of abilities they might have. While I've made it kind of obvious for the freelancers, the enforcer is relatively unknown to you.**

 **Anywho, remember to favorite, follow and review. All your input encourages me to write more. :)**


	14. Becoming Blade

**EDIT:** **Disregard my ramblings. This is just what I do when I get bored with editing and is my only way to squeeze words into SWG's fic.**

 **Mid-terms suck. That's probably obvious, but I just wanted to make it known.**

 **Going to let you all in on some sneakrets (sneaky secrets), I've been waiting to write the next chapter for a long, long time. Got quite a bit planned and I hope you'll enjoy it all.**

 **I've been feeling really neglected lately because nobody is writing any reviews. Maybe my writing just hasn't been up to snuff, if that's the case then I'll try to kick things up. [I'm not being super serious about this, I love all you readers equally and so long as you enjoy my writing, I'm more than happy.]**

 **I won't bore you all with more notes, now is the time for action!**

* * *

The brightly-coloured man slowly removed his glasses and immediately a feeling of weakness washed over Shirou. It felt as if all his potential was being stripped from his body. Naturally, he wanted to activate his circuits to regain some semblance of energy, but a voice in the back of his mind, oddly similar to Rin's, dissuade him against it. The woman took her own glasses off, tucking them gently into an inner pocket of her suit. Beneath her gaze, Shirou felt even less than naked. It was as if she could see beneath his skin, deep within his body.

To say the feeling was uncomfortable would have been an understatement; it was downright nauseating. Shirou's hands clenched into fists, he could handle this, couldn't he? After all, they were just magi. Bazett's suit could defend against a considerable amount of magical force. That had been made clear following Rin's attack the first night of her arrival.

But perhaps it was best to just test the waters first. The freelancers didn't want to kill him outright, so a powerful attack he couldn't defend against was unlikely. He looked deep within himself and a blade pulled itself from deep within his _mind_. With a whisper of golden light, the familiar, antiquated sword materialized in his hand.

"Look at this, the kid intends to fight," the man snorted, casually cracking his knuckles.

"Then he's not the spineless coward I had pegged him to be," the woman hummed, rolling her neck. While it was important to stretch before a fight, this was getting a little overplayed to Shirou's taste.

"Can we just get on with i-"

That was as far as he could get. The man had lunged forward like a colourful bolt of lightning. Shirou awkwardly moved his blade to deflect an open-handed slash, stepping back to put enough room between them so he could properly use his sword. The configuration of his hand perplexed Shirou and gave the man an advantage in the fight almost instantly. Capitalizing on Shirou's confusion, rainbow boy managed to land a glancing blow down Shirou's right arm.

With a cry of pain, Shirou leapt backward, examining the wound to find fresh claw marks where he had been struck. Four grisly streaks ran down his upper arm, ending at the elbow. Glancing between the wound and his opponent's hands, it was clear to see a match. At some point in their brief spat of strikes, the man had grown _claws_. In fact, his hands didn't look all that human. The fingers had compressed, shortening to become stubby, boney-looking things with wicked hooked claws at each fingertip. Long wiry strands of yellowish-gray hair began to cover their surface. The hair atop his head, which had been so lovingly dyed with primary colours, had extended and began to take on this blond coloration.

A shape-shifter of some sort. Manipulating his body to his advantage by using the concept of alteration. It was an incredibly uncommon form of magecraft if only due to the dangers such a gross manipulation of self-presented.

"You should be in a lot worse shape than that, you're not bad at defending yourself kid, but can you actually swing that blade of yours?" A taunt, an attempt at angering Shirou so he made a mistake. "I'm actually surprised that projected blade of yours held up so well. You must not be that bad of a magus to make such a durable creation." It was hard for Shirou to tell in this light, but he could have sworn that the man's teeth had grown longer. The hint of a lisp due to such an obstruction in his mouth also began to gleam through.

There was no point in talking. Conversing on the battlefield opened up defences, allowed the opponent to read you that much better. Kiritsugu had taught Shirou all about the mind games of combat, he wouldn't fall to them in his first real battle. A rustling noise from his left was the only thing that saved him. Lifting his blade, an incredible amount of force slammed into his guard and flung him to the side like a ragdoll. Rolling on his shoulder, Shirou popped onto his feet and lifted his blade - what was left of it - to defend three more slashing attacks.

The force of the initial blow had shattered his weapon a few inches above the hilt while left him defending blows with what was essentially a dagger. Interestingly enough, the weapon in its damaged state was working with more efficiency than a full-length blade. It's lighter weight allowed Shirou to manipulate it with much more finesse. Reinforcing his limbs, Shirou prepared to halt an overhand ax blow. The impact of the two attacks sent an explosion noise and a pressure wave through the area, shuddering his entire body as he strained to retain his composure.

With a grunt, Shirou bent his body and forced the woman's arms away. With speed granted to him through reinforcement, Shirou released the broken weapon, snapped both arms downward and summoned another copy of the same sword. Both of the woman's arms were above her head, forced that way as a result of Shirou's deflection. With Shirou's reinforced muscles, his motions were too fast for her to counter. As his hands wrapped around the hilt of his created weapon, the woman's eyes shrank in surprise. The tip of the blade was thrust forward, piercing her abdomen and carrying through with surprising resistance.

The woman made a gasp, stepping backward due to the force and surprise of the attack. Reaching down, she grasped the sword's handle, looking down in shock. Shirou had thought her face was the mortification of oncoming death.

Then the man took hold of the weapon and yanked it out carelessly. A large splash of blood spewed from the hole, and the woman made a noise of pain as she partly covered the wound. Looking the weapon over, he motioned handle-first toward Shirou. "Well, it's a nice gift and all, and I suppose it's the thought that counts, but did you keep the receipt?" The weapon was thrown toward the ground but before it could clatter against the concrete, it had dematerialized into golden sparks.

Much to Shirou's bewilderment, the fresh wound he had just made no longer existed. Blood coated her front, but the gaping hole left by the weapon had sealed itself after the obstruction was withdrawn. Touching the new flesh, the woman hummed. "You managed to land a strike on me. Perhaps you're not so naive. I suppose we'll have to take you seriously now."

The two looked behind themselves in unison. "Although it might be best to relocate to a more appropriate area, wouldn't you agree?" Hardly waiting for a response, the pair quickly moved down the street, only stopping to collect Sakura before sprinting wildly along the road. Shirou was a little late to the draw on following, reactions dulled by such an unprecedented turn of events. Even though the two were at least two turns ahead of him every time, Shirou could easily follow their trail. For whatever reason, Sakura could compete with a floral shop in terms of scent. Because of this, he could just follow the smell of flowers with relative precision.

Within a dozen minutes, he had reached the old Fuyuki docks, where his father had once had a battle of epic proportions with heroes long dead. The sun had vanished some time ago and the moon solemnly took its place in the sky. Closer to the sea, the smell of salt water and fish lingered around eye level. Another feature of this area was the deathly silence. The port was separated from the residential homes of Fuyuki. In this corner of the city, industrial buildings had taken up much of the space to provide goods to the people.

To say things were a little eerie would be an understatement. Trying to follow his nose wasn't working anymore as the ocean breeze and its lingering scent had washed away Sakura's floral trail.

"Trace on," Shirou whispered to the night, and his circuits came alive to the impact of a pistol hammer. Continuing to murmur, he completed the rest of his aria. It would be best to prepare for an ambush now rather than later. With a yellowish glow, Bazett's suit enveloped his figure and a nameless sword formed within his hand. He considered making a projection of his bow, but at what possible point could he use a ranged weapon in conditions like this?

He had been forced to break the lock of a gate closing off what appeared to be a shipping depot. The other magi had likely scaled the fence in some way, but Shirou lacked a spell to perform a similar feat. Walking down the gently sloped pavement, Shirou could almost hear the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the nearby warehouse. Checking his corners and looking over his back every so often, Shirou wondered if he was in the right place.

Then a howl echoed from further down. It was animalistic, but with a growling quality that clearly came through. What would a wolf be doing this far into Fuyuki? Shirou could feel the hairs on his neck rise with a sense of dread. Maybe he really was biting off more than he could chew.

There was a scraping noise that rang out from his side. Turning his head to see the cause, Shirou rapidly understood just how outmatched he was. The creature ahead could only be recognized by the tuft of green atop his head, otherwise, Shirou would have thought this beast to be a new threat entirely. It was a werewolf, no doubts or second guesses about it. The face of a wild dog, the muscular humanoid, hair-covered body and the odd glimmer to his fur which appeared to resonate with the moonglow. Rising at least nine feet tall even while slouched, the werewolf was coated in thick, glossy blond fur. Familiar grey eyes were set behind a snout full of gleaming yellowed canines. Even through the heavy fur coat, Shirou could see taut muscle. It was the only bodily feature shared between his human and animal forms.

The beast made a throaty, growling snarl before dragging its front paws along the pavement in a direct threat. All the clues seemed to line up now. The wet dog smell from the two, the claw marks on his shoulder - which Avalon had sealed - and their strange behaviour.

If Shirou were a betting man, he'd put money on that woman being a werewolf as well. They were likely packmates or whatever they called themselves. Thinking about the matter further, Shirou realized that he was _really_ out in the deep end. If legend were to be believed, werewolves were only weak to silver. Although, that didn't mean they were invincible to everything else.

The beast bowed, powerful muscles quivering as it launched forward with staggering speed. Memories of long, cold nights alone in the wolf-filled Einzbern forest came flooding back to him and through experience alone, he sidestepped clear from the path of the charging beast. With practiced ease, the blade in his hand sliced downward to cleave a gash in the werewolf's hind leg. It was the exact way Shirou had dealt with the smaller animals in the forest, although those wolves were significantly slower and far less dangerous. While his attack had struck exactly as intended, nothing more than a scant few drops of blood remained on the beast's pelt. Maybe silver blades _were_ the only effective way to put these beasts down.

Shirou rapidly reminded himself that wolves operated in packs, that there had been _two_ freelancers who had come to his home. Turning his head, he spotted the large dark form of another werewolf. It was already sprinting toward him with feral fury, significantly faster on all fours than the blond wolf. By process of elimination, he determined this to be the female freelancer.

Dodging would get him nowhere. The blond wolf would have likely recovered and even if Shirou could move out of the way of a third attack, he would still have one werewolf on either side. Channelling a couple of dozen hollow blades in his mind, he positioned their points of conceptualization between himself and the black animal racing toward him. Against all of his instincts, he sprinted forward, aiming to face the animal head on. As he was constantly tracing the beast, he could sense the tensing of her muscles, could see the intention to pounce course through her form. With his mind screaming that he was an utter fool, he dropped to the ground and slid along the pavement. Bazett's finely made suit made the action quite easy in fact.

With his body low along the ground, the black wolf leapt high, aiming to come down straight on top of him - until blades suddenly appeared in her path. As if they were immovable stones, the werewolf landed on the blades and stopped dead in the air. Several of the swords had broken due to the force of the impact but all that mattered was that they held up enough for Shirou to slide under.

He was in a prime position now. Snapping to his feet behind the black werewolf, Shirou spotted the blond one looking him over. "What sort of trick is this? Making blades that will not break?" It was obviously the man's voice, but it had been twisted and distorted - harsh, grating and throaty as if he had consumed a truckload of gravel since their last encounter.

Almost on command, the blades fully formed and shattered into golden sparks beneath the female. With a yelping bark, the beast awkwardly dropped onto the pavement shoulder-first. The weapons had been hollow after all, so much as a grain of sand contacting their surface would cause them to shatter. They had only managed to remain up to that point due to the fact that they weren't fully formed.

To be fair, Shirou had abused a strange limitation of his projection magic. The incredible fact was that it had _worked_. His face held a look that revealed he didn't even believe what had happened either. "I guess we both have our secrets," he commented, raising his sword in preparation for an attack.

The man performed the werewolf equivalent of a snort before leaping forward. Rather than move directly into striking range, he stopped short, then hopped wildly to one side while making a desperate horizontal slash.

Narrowly backing out of the initial attack, Shirou was forced backward as the wolf began haphazardly swinging while moving increasingly closer. Each blow shattered his nameless blade and rattled his very bones with sheer power. The slowing of each attack offered just enough time for Shirou to dodge. Even with Bazett's suit and his reinforcement, the wolf was too fast for him to keep up. He was barely managing to twist his blade to the right angle to keep those claws from hooking an edge to even consider a retaliating strike.

But in the heat of battle, a thought crossed his mind. What if he were to employ his own tactic in this fight? The one he had used against Bazett in training? It was a nice thought only before he could act on it, the smaller werewolf had encroached upon his other side.

While she wasn't powerful enough to shatter his blades outright, she might as well have been. Hairline fractures lined the entire surface from tip to hilt after a single blow, rendering the sword as useless as a piece of paper in combat. Cursing his lack of quality weaponry, Shirou replaced his sword and readied himself to face two werewolves simultaneously. What options did he have? He could run, leaving Sakura to these two beasts. He could fight them head-on, likely die and ultimately leave Sakura to her fate or…

That was it, two options. Altering his sword to change its construction to silver would be an effort in futility. The only form of silver he had seen his life was jewelry, meaning the metal would be too flimsy for combat. That being said, projectiles didn't need to be durable.

The werewolves were regrouping, moving to stand side by side. This would be a joint attack, likely one he wouldn't survive. Reading the field, Shirou made an entirely unexpected action: he ran.

With his tail between his reinforced legs, he sprinted directly toward the nearby warehouse. Not bothering to see if it was locked or not, the boy slammed shoulder first into the door. It flung open with an grating, unoiled creak and made a loud bang as it slammed unhindered into the concrete wall. Wasting little time, Shirou quickly turned, shut the door behind him and created a slow-forming blade near the top and bottom of the door. With the creation process slowed, the immovable weapons would provide some resistance to the door, but this wasn't Shirou's full intention.

Kiritsugu and Rin had both passed down their knowledge of bounded fields. Rin demonstrated how to create them and Kiritsugu taught him what to look for to break them down. With knowledge of both creation and destruction, Shirou could develop bounded fields that were near unbreachable. Beyond reinforcement and what little runecraft he could manage, bounded fields were the only other form of magecraft he could utilize effectively.

As the sigil on the door was completed, hundreds of thin, wire-like bounded fields connected the two blades, creating a condensed, multi-layer wall of mana. Each field was given a simple purpose: resist foreign objects. If the door tried to push itself into the field, it would be repelled, a simple but effective property.

Upon completion, a violent bang echoed from the door as something impacted the other side. A large dent had formed in the middle, but the forming blades and the bounded field were holding firm - for now. Smirking to himself over the minor victory, Shirou allowed the blade in his hand to disappear before looking over the area.

It was dark, especially since this area had no windows to speak of. Even so, Shirou could still pull off a decent assessment. This was the back of the warehouse, indicated by the featureless walls and storage area appearance. To his left was a small recession which held shelves full of supplies, as well as a metal staircase up to the second level where pallid streams of moonlight could be seen. Straight ahead was another metal door similar in appearance to the door he had just come through. If he had to make an educated guess, the ground level door would lead to the warehouse floor. Another loud noise from the door behind him pressured a decision.

Not wishing to put himself out in the open again, Shirou elected to take the stairs two steps at a time. Taking a right further into the building, Shirou realized that this path connected to a series of catwalks suspended above the main warehouse floor. The catwalks spanned the entire circumference of the building with walkways connecting the two sides every twenty-five feet. With the large windows overhead allowing the light of the moon to shine through, this area of the warehouse was decently illuminated. Not that it gave the appearance of day, but it certainly was far from pitch black.

Peering over the edge of the walkway, Shirou spotted innumerable shipping containers in an array of basic colours. The scent of stale saltwater and heavy oils wafted up to assail his nose. Each step further into the building sent the sharp rasp of metal flooring echoing through the building. It had almost obscured the sound of a door being forcefully bashed open. The noise, coupled with the subtle sense of a weight being removed from his shoulders, revealed that his barricade had been broken. So long as Shirou forced this fight into a one-on-one, he could defend himself well enough to survive at least. Calling up the well-used sword from his mind, he projected one into his waiting hand and began altering a handful of others to use silver as the main material of composition. Turning one-eighty to begin backpedalling, the blond wolf appeared almost on cue. Unexpectedly, the black werewolf neglected to make her appearance behind him. Perhaps she had gone to attack from the ground floor? A noise from below confirmed Shirou's suspicions. They were still trying to strike from two sides, even on such a narrow walkway.

Focusing on one issue at a time, Shirou hefted his blade into position, rapidly realizing that this narrow pass also limited his own combat potential as well. He wouldn't be able to fully swing without contacting the handrails. But would he need a sword? Cutting weapons seemed ineffective, but would the werewolf be able to resist internal damage as easily?

Like a train switching rails, Shirou near-instantly abandoned the sword in his hands for a pair of Bazett's gloves. The rough clatter of steel as the wolf rapidly moved across the catwalk became a cacophony as it bounced around the warehouse and overlapped its own echo. With each running step, the monster's claws shredded the metal grating below, forcing the material aside in search of traction. This left the floor behind him a shear-sharpened mess of twisted metal strips. Considering how large the animal was, the catwalk was a marvel of engineering to support such a weight.

As the werewolf neared, it reared up onto its hind legs and began swinging carelessly. Adopting his own half-baked tactic tested only against Bazett, Shirou was astonished to find it was actually _effective_. Every time he lowered his guard, the wolf tried to capitalize on the perceived mistake. Each time, Shirou flawlessly intercepted the strike and either dodged or parried where allowable. Until he could be sure he wouldn't be caught off guard, he would stick to the defensive and slowly learn the beast's technique. Since he was using his fists rather than a blade, Shirou had to be careful not to gouge himself on the claws while he tried to parry strikes.

Bazett's suit was holding up against the beast's claws as well as could be expected. Shirou had to constantly regenerate the damaged material after each parried blow which was progressively draining his mana reserves. Following a dozen failed strikes from both claws and jaws, Shirou decided he had learned enough to feel confident in setting up his own offensive. At the same time, the werewolf grew tired of the futile stalemate as well. The beast stood tall, sucking in a deep breath to produce an ear-splitting howl. His eyes were locked onto Shirou for the duration and as the sound continued, a sudden surge of weakness washed over the boy. In fact, he could actually _sense_ that his suit and gloves were losing their magical ability. Not only that, but their rate of decomposition had accelerated tenfold.

Before his very eyes, each projection began to release sporadic golden sparks which drifted up into the atmosphere. A hasty tracing revealed that the items had a few seconds before they would vanish entirely. "Mystic Eyes of Cancellation!" the beast howled in what Shirou could only guess was laughter. Grimacing, awareness of the new situation settled in. His weapons and outfits, the only things protecting him from those wicked claws, would fade away just seconds after being created. Going head-to-head against the werewolf with swords wasn't going to be enough anymore.

That didn't stop the projected silver blades from firing forward into the beast's wide-open chest. Due to Shirou's inability to adjust velocity after the initial creation period, they weren't directed anywhere specific. One impaled itself off to the side of his abdomen while the other skewered his left hind leg. What had been a mighty howl, turned into a yelp of intense pain.

As the silver weaponry pierced skin, the scent of burning fur and boiling blood near-instantaneously filled the warehouse. Stumbling backwards, the werewolf fell over onto the jagged metal grating he had left behind during his rapid approach. The pre-weakened material buckled under the sudden impact, collapsing under his weight. With flailing arms, the werewolf caught onto the guide wire supporting the catwalk. With a loud twang, the steel cabling snapped effortlessly but his claws did not stop there. Like a hot knife through butter, the beast cleaved through the metal handrail as well, separating the catwalk into two halves.

With a groan, the entire section Shirou was standing on lurched. Unbalanced, Shirou stumbled forward. He had to get off now, otherwise, he'd fall down onto the ground floor with both wolves!

The catwalk had different ideas, however. The steel cable behind him snapped from having to support the additional load. Unable to move, the floor beneath him gave way and the darkness below rapidly approached his face. Shutting his eyes, Shirou diverted his mana toward maintaining Bazett's rapidly vanishing suit and reinforcing his body to prepare for the impact.

The screeching groan of metal preceded the clamour of crashing steel. Opening his eyes, he found himself rapidly approaching the edge of a shipping container. Unable to defend himself in time, his head roughly smashed against the metal surface. Stars and black spots clouded his vision and his entire body went limp from the jarring cranial injury. Collapsing off one side, he landed on a heap of metal with a grisly noise. With his head reeling, Shirou couldn't even so much as lift his head from the pile of scrap he landed in. Struggling to breathe, the edges of his vision rapidly came to a point as unconsciousness took over.

… … …

"You want us to stay here while Shirou's out there fighting?" Illya shouted, throwing her arms out from her side haughtily. How could Kiritsugu just abandon him like this? She had half a mind to weave around him and race out the door, but a hand on the collar of her dress shattered the forming plan.

"I know what you're feeling kiddo, but your dad is right." It was Bazett, her voice cold and distant. Illya turned her head to look up to the Irish woman so that she could defy her as well, but after seeing her face, words became impossible. The stern expression reigned in Illya's emotions. "Shirou's gone off and we've got no idea where he could be. If any of us go looking for him, we'd cause more bad than good."

The two adults shared a look, nodding to one another. "Our only option is to wait, lest we set off an unfortunate chain reaction." Bending down seemed difficult, but the old man dropped to her level, running his hand along her head comfortingly. "Shirou will be fine, he's been training for a moment like this all his life. You just need to believe that he'll pull through, sweetheart." He offered a genuine smile. It was something she hadn't seen for years and her mind flashed back to Germany.

Her eyes grew hot as tears began to well up, but before she could even begin crying, the orange gem on her ring exploded with the sound of glass. Everyone paused to look at their respective rings, realizing that two of the colours were now missing. Now Shirou and Sakura were sending the distress call.

What were they to do now?

… … …

A flash of searing pain forced his eyes open. Shirou gasped as agony coursed through his body. There was an intense pounding in his head which pulsed to the beat of his heart. It was visibly disturbing his sense of sight as rims of black began fading in and out in tune with the pain. Severe nausea and ringing in his ears weren't a good sign either. It was a concussion, no doubt. Shirou was surprised he had actually woken up from an injury this severe.

His head wasn't the only part of his body that hurt. His back felt like he had slept on a pile of junk for hours and hot, continuous aching came from his leg. Blearily looking down at the limb chilled Shirou to the bone. Sections of the metal flooring had been torn apart in the collapse of the catwalk, meaning long sharpened strips of one-inch wide metal were jutting out from the pile Shirou landed on in every direction. His weight had impaled three awkwardly angled pieces in his lower left leg. The pierce appeared clean at least, with a tight fit around the material preventing major blood loss. Then again, that might have been Avalon's doing.

Avalon did nothing for the pain, however. The shear-sharpened ends had torn up the flesh inside and every minimal motion sent stabbing pains through his form. With a groan, Shirou instinctively reached down to the injured limb. Stretching his body revealed just how damaged he was.

His landing in the pile of twisted scrap had jabbed sharpened bits of metal into his back and most of his body. Multiple lacerations had made the mere act of bending forward a painful endeavour. Avalon was doing its best to knit these wounds sealed, prioritizing them over the impalement as the relic was wise enough not to completely heal wounds with foreign objects inside of them.

To make matters worse: Bazett's suit had vanished and left him in his normal clothes - what was left of them. One of his most important defensive elements had been lost and so long as the blond wolf remained, he wouldn't be able to project anything without having it removed in short order.

Gritting his teeth, Shirou tried to locate his enemies, finding that the blond wolf was still out cold for now. A dozen feet away, the beast's chest heaved slowly underneath a portion of the catwalk he had brought down. As a holdout, Shirou prepared silver coated blades within his mind. Should the black werewolf appear, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

A loud crash from further in revealed that the rest of the catwalk was still collapsing onto the main floor. A screeching noise preceded a building-quaking boom. If Shirou had to guess, a shipping container had been toppled as well. The resulting shock actually carried through the steel in his leg and sent pangs of pain up his body.

There was no easy way to get out of this, and he would have to do something if he wanted to save Sakura. Carefully stretching to wrap one hand around his ankle, Shirou closed his eyes and took several, shaking breaths to prepare himself. Counting down from three in his mind, he roughly yanked up on the injured leg. The blood surrounding the wound had congealed and has already scabbed with Avalon's advancements which meant the entry and exit wounds _tore_ rather than slid along the metal piece.

Through a cry of pain, Shirou's leg had been removed from its stuck place. With the foreign object removed, Avalon got to work with sealing the gaping holes. They would bleed for a few minutes, but the blood loss wasn't enough to be of major concern - yet.

With incredible difficulty, Shirou grabbed onto the various pieces of rubble around him to assist in standing. Through small noises of pain and some careful motions, he managed to upright himself, favouring his damaged leg as it slowly sealed itself. As he stood, shards of crystal dropped to his feet from beneath his shirt. Putting one and one together, Shirou realized that the signal gem must have broken in the fall. The sound of clattering metal and a low rumbling from his side dragged Shirou's attention away. The blond wolf was stirring, lifting the piece of catwalk from its body and standing with significantly less difficulty than Shirou.

Unlike the boy, the werewolf wasn't wounded in the slightest. Sure a piece of metal impaled his shoulder, but by the way he was moving, it hardly seemed to bother him. With one clawed hand, the beast gripped the foreign object and slowly slid it from his body. Faster than Avalon could even dream of being, the gaping hole knit itself closed. The only reminder that an injury had ever existed was the odd, hairless, goose-like pink flesh over where the wound had been.

The two opponents shared a look, sizing one another up and trying to determine if it was worth fighting in a pile of scrap. Shirou decided for them, limping sideways toward where he believed an exit would lie. The werewolf followed, but this time they were at a distance, likely cautious of more flying swords.

Every stumbling step sent jarring pain through his body as he was forced to put pressure on his injured leg. Even breathing caused intense agony, wounds on his back and a pounding headache both insisting that he stop and rest, but he couldn't. If he stopped moving, he'd die to one of these werewolves. Speaking of were _wolves_ , where had the woman gone off to? A rapid clatter of metal from around the corner clued Shirou in. She had backed off to avoid being injured and now she was coming in to assist. Rounding the corner, the black beast came into view.

Shirou wasted no time forming and firing off silver blades. As the first one actualized, the female seemed to realize the threat and backed off to join her counterpart. As line of sight was opened up between the male wolf and Shirou, his projected blades began fading away. Those mystic eyes of his were insufferable. If he had such a powerful ability, what kind of power did the woman have?

Launching his crumbling blades haphazardly, Shirou continued to stumble along the twisted path alongside shipping containers. Eventually, he reached the side wall and a brief look over his shoulder confirmed that a door outside sat behind him some twenty feet away.

By the time he got onto the second dozen batch of silver swords, Shirou could sense his mana reserves running light. If he lowered the quality of his projections and decreased the amount of silver to a thin coating, he would be able to project a dozen more but then he would be totally spent.

It seemed that the black wolf realized this fact, as she was pressuring him to use more blades than before. Shirou safely assumed that to be the ability of her Mystic Eyes: A sort of detection-type power that could see the magical condition of a magus at a mere glance. While he couldn't be sure, it sure seemed like she knew how desperate he was getting.

Close to the door, Shirou stumbled and fell backwards onto the cold steel. As the pain from such an impact on fresh wounds came through, Shirou reflexively bit his lip to silence his screams. His hip pushed the bar enough to open the door and all at once his weight came crashing onto the concrete outside. With a cry of pain, Shirou awkwardly closed the door with his good leg and projected two shoddy-looking blades like he had at the other door. He managed to string a few bounded fields between the weapons, but not nearly as many as he wanted.

A loud bang sounded from the other side and a hole was nearly punched through the center. From the impact alone, most of the bounded fields shattered. Another impact like that would blow the entrance open.

Deciding to establish an ambush as a last-ditch effort, Shirou shuffled away on his back along the cold concrete, projecting several silver weapons above his shoulders. As he further strained his circuits, steam began to whisper off his hot body. Shirou had already made a plan: When that door opened, he would fire the few swords he could make through. He would need to kill the wolves before they could pay him the same favour.

As he was mentally preparing his weapons however, someone grabbed on by the collar of his shirt and roughly pulled him backward. Trying to look up at his saviour, his eyes met someone he had never seen before. She was cute in the same way that some would consider Illya cute: a petite frame and young, childish face. She must have been stuck in nostalgia or still living out a childish dream because she wore a flamboyant dress in bubblegum pink. If Shirou could best describe her simply, she looked like a young girl _pretending_ to be princess. Her appearance didn't correlate to her strength as she was able to drag Shirou along the ground with one hand.

Her face was scrunched up aggravation and she suddenly launched into a mumbling aside. "Late to Fuy- this town, late to find the kid and late to the fight as well. When am I ever going to get my scheduling together?" she questioned, giving her head a slow shake.

Shirou was more confused than ever before in his life. Who was this woman, why was she here and why did she seem to know him? Swallowing thickly, he tried to stop her with a trembling tone. "Hey, it's dangerous here, you have to leave! There ar-"

She laughed noisily, cutting him off. "You want me to leave? Are you going to cover my escape like some darling hero?" The woman snorted, then laughed coldly before rudely dropping him on the ground. She stepped around him and faced the door as it blew open. Two different coloured werewolves leaped out, snarling madly before spotting the new petite opponent.

The male wolf pushed past the smaller one, standing tall to peer down at the girl. Shirou could see the gaping holes that his silver blades had made. Blood gently oozed from the edge, dripping onto the beast's thick fur. The edges almost looked charred while the inside flesh still bled deep crimson. "Look sister, the homunculus girl has come to the boy's rescue." Shirou couldn't move past the word _sister_. So these two werewolves were related, likely part of the same pack. Now the similarities between them made sense.

"Huh?" the woman asked, looking at the werewolves in confusion before glancing between them and Shirou himself. Rolling her eyes and sighing, the princess placed both gloved hands on her hips. "I'm not here to _save_ him, and I'm definitely not a homunculus." Slowly, she pointed up to her eyes - which were green as could be - before resuming her pompous stance.

"Either way, you've seen too much." The woman finally spoke for the first time. "Just close your eyes and we'll make it quick."

The princess laughed jauntily, holding onto her stomach. "While I _could_ take you both on with my eyes closed, I'd like to watch this fight." Shirou couldn't see the woman's face, but he imagined she was smiling. The two werewolves shared a look then suddenly broke into choppy chuckles.

"What can you, a simple human, do to us?"

The princess reached up beneath her blonde hair to withdraw two, small, green and silver earrings. They were teardrop shaped, roughly the size of a leaf. A simple trace revealed them to be conceptual weapons. "Enforcers are capable of quite a lot, you know," she stated, moving one earring to each hand. As the word "enforcer" reached their canine ears, both werewolves stiffened.

Hesitating no longer, the werewolves lunged forward with feral snarling. The princess raised one arm, bright blue light flashing from the palm. "Hafask lind fyrir!" The woman spoke a language Shirou had never heard before. At her behest, an ephemeral blue shield slammed onto the ground a short distance ahead of her. The werewolves, with the momentum of their run making them unable to stop, slid along the concrete and bashed into the unmoving surface with a reverberating gong.

Turning her palm over, the mana from her body channelled itself into her conceptual earrings. Before Shirou's very eyes, the earrings elongated and expanded tenfold to become short, heavy blades. Their appearance was unlike any conventional weapon Shirou had ever seen. The blade edges were in gleaming polished silver, with the main construction of the weapons being an enamelled green. They were wickedly curved to the point of weakness, but Shirou could tell they wouldn't break by any normal means. They were short but thin weapons with thicker portions near the hilt. They featured knuckle guards and intricately crafted crossguards made to the likeness of a bird of prey with the beak and wingtips acting as blade catches. Shirou immediately committed the blades to memory. Oddly enough, it felt as if they were recorded somewhere else without any interaction on his part. Those blades were edged with silver, they were the perfect weapons for fighting werewolves.

The shield the woman had deployed vanished and the werewolves clumsily stumbled forward as the stationary wall left. Two sets of beastly eyes locked onto the woman before their bodies stiffened at the sight of the swords. The princess made a haughty noise. "It's a good thing I was the one chosen to come collect this bounty. Anyone else might have had trouble with beasts like you."

The blond wolf snorted, then snapped forward with pure rage. Watching the fight as Shirou crawled backwards on the ground, he could see that the enforcer wasn't overstating her abilities. The clawed hand of the werewolf was poised to take her head clean off. Using her petite size to her advantage, the woman ducked under the attack and quickly slashed the backside of his arm, eliciting a howl and the scent of burning fur.

Angry with how he had been injured once more, the wolf launched into a flurry of rampaging swings and strikes that tore up the ground below with screeching noises. Nothing seemed to land however, as the beast's claws were either parried by the silver blades or the petite woman simply dodged the attack entirely. She was obviously a skilled swordswoman to battle a werewolf without so much as a scratch.

Unfortunately, her attention could only be spread so far. Behind the battling pair, the black wolf darted off to the left, toward Shirou. Without a single word being said, Shirou could determine what they had planned. While he held off the enforcer, the female werewolf would take Shirou away so they still had a line to the Magus Killer. Pawing around in the dark, she was almost invisible. The only detail Shirou could decipher in the darkness were yellowed ivory claws and the reflective gleam of predatory eyes. The scent of salt water had mingled with wet dog and hot breath, a disgusting conglomeration of conflicting scents that made Shirou nauseous.

The wolf grew near and he desperately tried to defend himself by kicking her in the face. Silver blades formed over his shoulders, but a brutal backhand threw the blueprints from his mind. With his concentration and coherency shattered, the silver blades faded away before they were fully projected and his already half-spirited attempts at kicking her away ended. With no sense of delicacy, the werewolf bent down and clamped her jaws onto his already wounded leg, teeth sinking into the still healing holes.

The pain was unbearable and Shirou couldn't help by cry out even in his dazed state. Without being gentle in the slightest, the werewolf yanked him along the cold concrete and away from the fight. His vision suddenly inverted as he was yanked upwards by his leg.

"Don't think so!" came a shrill voice from behind. Shirou couldn't really see properly with everything being star-speckled _and_ upside down, but he knew by the pitch of voice that the enforcer had caught onto the werewolves' plan. There was a half-muffled yelp of pain and suddenly Shirou was falling. The last thing he remembered was the sound of grinding metal as his head collided with the concrete.

… … …

Sakura's eyes fluttered open, and she slowly lifted herself off the cold ground. She had been asleep for a while if the nagging desire deep within her was any indication. She had been walking home when those strangers ambushed her and put her to sleep somehow. Now she was in some dark-looking building with tin walls. It was obviously an industrial building of some sort, further reinforced by the appearance of large boxes of chemicals and various industrial implements she couldn't name.

Just as she finished standing, the building spontaneously exploded. Not with a blast, but by some large shape tearing through the opposite side. The object was a mix of yellow and red, but it had only been in front of her for the briefest flash of a second. With a shocked noise, Sakura tucked herself up against the far wall in fright, trying to be as small as possible. There was silence for a moment, then the air was filled with the clamorous clanging of blades along with an odd growling noise.

When nothing new happened to further scare her, Sakura took a few cautious steps forward. Nearing the destroyed part of the building. The girl poked her head out so she could peek out of the shed to the left and right. On the right was a strange pile of yellow fur splattered with blood. It didn't seem to be moving but it was dark, so Sakura couldn't be sure. Looking off to the left, she spotted an ongoing battle between two people.

Well, she imagined there were two people there anyway. She could easily see the small woman in pink with two blades dancing around the ground, but whoever she was fighting was nearly invisible. Only after squinting did she spot small flashes of white being slashed wildly in unpredictable directions.

She looked over the area once more, making sure it was safe before trying to figure out how to escape from this place. Although, on her second look, something white and orange caught her attention. It was Shirou and he was lying on the ground!

She wanted to call out his name to see if he was alright, but with his proximity to the battle currently taking place that might do more bad than good. She took a few steps out of what remained of the shed, stepping onto the bits of metal walling and burst chemical boxes. The scent of industrial-quality cleaner stung her nose and made her a little lightheaded, but she was able to get by without much problem. Stepping onto the concrete, a shifting from behind froze her in place. A deep, rumbling growl drained the blood from her face and with uncertainty, the girl turned to face the noise.

The yellow mass from before had shifted and _stood_ , rising to reveal its true status as a real-life werewolf. Like a deer in headlights, the violet-haired girl stood there trembling. Even as the beast strode toward her and wrapped its powerful hand around her torso, she couldn't get her body to budge. She could feel the tips of its claws cutting into her soft skin, forcing small noises of pain from her lips.

With a mighty bark toward the two locked in battle, the beast actually began speaking English. "Let us take the boy and go or else we'll kill the girl." It was a man if his voice was any indication. It was a deep, grumbling rasp and he was struggling to get oxygen by the rate of his breathing. Sakura could tell that the tone behind his voice was more of the bargaining nature.

The halting of metal clanging meant the woman in pink had stopped her battle but Sakura couldn't tear her eyes off the monster ahead of her. "Who do you think I am? I'm an enforcer, not some hero. Kill her if you want, it matters little to me because you'll both die here tonight!" she shouted, a dog-like yelp of pain signifying that her statement must have been rather truthful. So there were two werewolves here. The other must have been black for Sakura to have been unable to see it.

Growling, the blond wolf looked directly at Sakura, fingers squeezing tighter as he seemed to debate something in his mind. There was a second where Sakura thought she would die. Being crushed wasn't really her preferred way to go, but it certainly seemed like that was how things would end up. Images of Shirou and Rin flickered behind her eyes. She hadn't said goodbye, she had never admitted her feelings or tried to connect with her sister. It was over, but what could she do?

"You let her go you bastard!" came an angry shout from the side. It was so attention-grabbing that the werewolf himself turned to look. Which might have been a mistake, as a green and silver blade pierced the beast's arm.

The scent of burning fur stung her nose before the sound of a pained howl ever reached her ears. In the same moment, she began falling towards the cold, hard ground. Her body tensed and both eyes closed in preparation but her landing was much softer than expected. She felt warm arms around her, and heat from someone's body was pouring onto her. Opening her eyes, she spotted Shirou with a determined glare.

… … …

His entire skull was screaming in pain, every heartbeat sending pulses of black in from the edges of his vision. His leg was beyond crippled at this point, and since he was bitten by that werewolf, he was likely infected with their curse. None of that really stung too hard on Shirou's mind. What really gnawed on him was the fact that he was useless. He couldn't take on the freelancers and he wouldn't be able to defend himself from the enforcer after she was done. She would torture him until he gave up Kiritsugu and everything he had worked towards would fall apart like a house of cards from there.

He was actually considering giving up. To just close his eyes and let the sense of fatigue consume him. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep them open. Absently, he watched the male werewolf get launched from the fight by a blast of energy. Apparently, the princess disliked dealing with a two-on-one so she had removed him from the fight for a while.

Expecting the wolf to stand up and re-engage in a moments notice, Shirou was surprised when nothing stirred. Maybe that attack had finally put the wolf down. Shirou laid his head onto the concrete, strength across his body fading and eyes closing of their own volition. Even in his dreary, half-conscious state, he was able to see something violet appear in the night.

The colour alone snapped his eyes open. Only two people he knew wore colours like that and only one of those had it for their hair. It was Sakura, she had been deposited in that shed by the wolves. She had been right under his nose the entire time.

He reached out, but the strain of moving his arm sent his head reeling and dark spots clouded his vision. His head fell to rest on the cool pavement while he tried to capture his breath and force the pain away. When he eventually looked back up, she was clutched in the wolf's paw, being handled like some sort of doll. His ears had heard the exchange, but his mind couldn't comprehend the words. The only thing he could focus on was the building rage.

Sakura was in trouble, he had to save her but with his body in such a knackered state how could he?

Then something flashed in his mind. The pain from his headache was _nothing_ to the indescribable flash that coursed through his entire body. All at once, the monotonous clanging of forging steel pulsed in his ears. The sensation was oddly familiar and it took him a second to place where he had felt it before. This same feeling had hit him only a few nights ago when he had gone off to hunt the serial killer.

The sound of crackling flame accompanied this monotonous forging clamour, beginning as a barely perceivable noise but rapidly growing to an inferno-like howl. Before Shirou could even consider what it meant, words came to his mouth. As he spoke, the clouds in his mind faded away.

" **I am the bone of my sword.** "

Like a wall had been lifted, memories of the night he reached Illya flooded back to him. He had said the exact same phrase then, but he was too full of rage to remember it clearly. It had given him power beyond his capabilities; it had also turned him into a monster. Every vivid detail of the killer's death replayed in his mind and a sickness stirred in his stomach.

Shirou opened his mouth to scream as an unbearable pain shot through his leg, but his body shut off his vocal cords before a noise could be made. Sparing a glance down at the source, Shirou paled at the sight of _blades_. The entire portion of his leg that had been impaled and bitten became a patchwork mess of overlapping, scale-like metal sheets.

As if reminding himself of his true objective, Sakura's face flashed into his mind. His body began moving of its own accord, standing upright through the searing agony. Each motion of his blade-laden leg sent the pain of a thousand cuts up into his brain. Even with the pain, he still began to run forward, mind _pulling_ the enforcer's blade from somewhere deep within. With a splash of blue sparks, a sword was projected in an instant over his shoulder, already firing toward its target as Shirou mindlessly shouted the first thing that came to mind.

"You let her go you bastard!" He wanted the blade to strike the werewolf's wrist so that he would release Sakura. As if reading his mind, his projected blade _changed directions_ while flying through the air to strike precisely where Shirou had desired. The male werewolf howled, released his captive and backed away to withdraw the offending blade. In that time, Shirou had moved underneath the beast's paw, placing himself to catch Sakura before she could impact the ground.

The two shared a glance of acknowledgement before the Emiya set the Matou on the ground and instructed her to run as fast as she could. The girl hesitated, but ultimately complied and took off toward the entrance of the compound. The _shink_ of a withdrawn blade sounded from his side and a rumbling growl soon followed. With nothing more than a turn of his head, blades appeared and fired toward the werewolf. The rate of creation and velocity of the blades was too great for the beast's Mystic Eyes of Cancellation to have any major effect.

The blades of the enforcer were formed by the handful. The first volley of weapons were easily swatted away, the inhuman speed and strength of the beast meant he was able to successfully repel each weapon. It didn't come without consequence, however, as each deflection cost the beast his claws. Every claw was either chipped or sheared off entirely. The sheer velocity coupled with the werewolf's innate weakness made his claws about as durable as dead wood.

The beast, in its attempt at preserving its life, blocked the next volley with its arm, snarling and growling as blades impaled the limb and stuck in place. One blade managed to sneak through his defence, and two more before the werewolf decided that an outright offensive rush was the best course of action. Forgoing all attempts at defending himself, the wolf lunged forward, taking a sword to the shoulder which did little to slow his movements.

Growing near, Shirou gave a look of steely determination, opening both hands to wield two green and silver blades just like the enforcer herself. Something felt right about using two swords at once. Almost as if he was born to use blades in this configuration.

With each hand gripping the finely crafted hilts of his new weapons, the information about their original owner's technique streamed into his head. Calling her style _wild_ would be an understatement. Many of her moves capitalized on her small stature to confuse and dance around the enemy all while aiming at making small lacerations that added up over time. Her technique explained the countless scars lining the blond wolf's body at least.

Swords impaled the monster's now defenceless body freely, striking at vital points on the body which would rapidly ensure his death - the kidneys, the lungs, the heart. With what remained of his arm, the wolf prevented a sword to the throat and in the same motion, swung at Shirou.

The red-headed boy had wanted his enemy to drop before getting close so that he wouldn't have to move, but it looked like what he wanted and what he got were two different things. The werewolf launched into a desperate flurry of swings as he got within range. Unable to concentrate enough to form projectiles, Shirou was forced into his self-made tactic, abusing the enemy's assumptions regarding his undefended areas against them. Each missed strike landed in the concrete below, flinging pebbles of crushed stone into the air.

With more confidence than his earlier encounter, Shirou actually began attacking between his parries. No longer was the battle a one-sided defence on his part, but a true battle that made his heart race and muscles quiver. It wasn't out of something so heinous as bloodthirst, but nervousness and something akin to anticipation.

Because there was a chance the enemy might see through his technique and capitalize on it, he was nervous. Because he was growing ever closer to his goal of experiencing what the old man had the day of the Great Fire, he felt anticipation. He hadn't saved anyone yet though. As long as the wolf was alive, Sakura was in danger. In order to rescue her fully, this dog needed to be put down.

The silver blade in his hand sparked as it was ground against the sharpened claws of the werewolf. The good arm of the wolf locked against his blades and the two tried to out-muscle one another. With the lull in combat, Shirou was able to stare the beast dead in the eyes. "Nobody threatens my friends," he growled with heartless anger. The tone was enough to send a shiver down his _own_ back. Never before had he heard his own voice speak in such a cold manner. The beast's eyes widened, not because of the Shirou's voice, but the silver sword impaled in his throat. With one arm mostly debilitated and the other locked against a blade, the beast was unable to defend against a projectile.

He made a gurgling noise as blood flowed freely into his lungs. His last good hand moved to remove the blade, but before he could, Shirou skewered it with the blade in his hand and yanked forward with all the might his body could muster.

The sudden imbalance coupled with the surprise of pain sent the beast toppling forward. Continuing to pull, Shirou watched the monster slam onto his face, jamming the silver blade deeper into his neck. The force might have broken the monster's spine, but Shirou couldn't bother checking. Allowing the embedded blade to dematerialize, he stumbled toward the ongoing fight behind him to finish the freelancers once and for all.

Running a self-check, Shirou was surprised to find his mana levels above empty. He had been using projections and bounded field magecraft so freely that his reserves should have been bone dry. The only logical reason was that his projections were costing less to produce. Comparing the most recent results to the scan he made earlier revealed he has used surprisingly little mana in the creation of all those blades. In fact, the drain had been _one-hundredth_ of what was normally required.

Right now he wasn't concerned with why. That was something to consider later. For now, Shirou would push himself until his body refused to move. With slight hesitation due to fear of what he might see, Shirou spared a glance toward his leg, which had been progressively growing in agony since he had first stood. The sight that met his eyes terrified him to no end. It had been no more than five minutes since he had been lying on the ground, but the lattice-like sword flesh had grown up to his knee and down to his ankle. In fact, twisting his foot - as painful and difficult as it was - produced an ear-rending shriek as the dozens of metal plates ground against one another.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of cold air to calm himself, Shirou tried to purge the image from his mind as he lifted his head. With his eyes still closed, he was greeted to a strange scene: An endless field of green grass. In every direction, the land seemed to stretch on for eternity. Above, the sky was coloured with the beautiful shades of a sunset. Oranges, purples and reds offering a sense of tranquillity. Oddly enough, he could see _himself_ in this scene. Looking down with his eyes closed revealed his body as it was in reality. Opening his eyes and sucking in another cold breath, the grass beneath him was replaced with concrete.

Was that some sort of dream? Or had he just bashed his head a little too hard this time around? Only now, without the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears, did the pounding noise of a forge return. Thinking back, it had always been in his ear, he had just grown accustomed to it, or he had tuned it out with his attention diverted elsewhere.

More words came to mind, threatening to spill out of his lips. Shirou had listened to his brain once and look at what it had done to him. If he spoke more of whatever spell he was coming upon, who was to say his entire body wouldn't become steel?

Giving his head a rough shake, Shirou looked ahead to find the enforcer currently wrapped around the werewolf on their back, stabbing one of her blades into its spine repeatedly as the monster flailed to throw her off. Eventually, the wolf slammed back-first into the nearby building, crushing the enforcer between the two surfaces.

Shirou moved forward, aiming to join the fight but all he managed was to stumble onto the wall of another building as a wave of nausea swept over him. His body wanted to vomit and the world span like a dreidel on Hanukkah. The shock of striking the wall made a searing pain known on his right arm. Looking down, he spotted another patch of sword skin in the shape of long, jagged lines. Piecing things together, Shirou reasoned that the blond wolf had caught him sometime during their battle. The condition of his own body shocked him, but there was no sense crying over spilt blood. He still had to deal with his two remaining combatants.

Each step forward was accompanied by the screech of metal. There would be no chance of sneaking up on the two in his current state, but would he even need to? A half-dozen copies of the enforcer's sword materialized over his shoulders with a whisper of blue sparks. Like autonomous missiles, Shirou relayed points he wished each blade to strike on the body of the black wolf and coordinates streamed to fill in the blanks.

It seemed that speaking _those_ words changed something fundamentally within him. With his mind somewhat clear, Shirou could actually feel the swords he projected being pulled from somewhere deep within his mind. They weren't being replicated through blueprints, it was almost like they originated from some sort of repository or armoury.

Each silver-edged blade howled as it shot forward through the night. With the werewolf's back toward the incoming projectiles, they were unable to defend themselves from the incoming attack. The first blade hit and the remainder followed in quick succession as the beast started to howl in pain.

It was a very short howl at least. From the pain, the wolf stumbled forward and threw their head back. The enforcer capitalized on this movement by leaping up and slashing her blade across the monster's neck. Just like her brother, the werewolf immediately began choking on their own blood. Unlike the other werewolf, this seemed to infuriate the beast even further. Like the ravenous animal it was, the werewolf put everything that it had left into injuring the enforcer.

Not expecting such a redoubled force, it actually worked partly. The enforcer had taken on a large gash down her leg in the midst of her dancing around the wild, uncoordinated attacks. From where Shirou was standing, he could see the wolf was running out of steam. Its attacks were progressively getting sluggish and feeble. Eventually, it reached the point where the enforcer could bat away the beast's arms with the back of her hand.

Then with a thump, the werewolf collapsed dead on the concrete. Without the sound of battling blades - or swords and claws for that matter - an eerie silence descended over the harbour. Or it would have anyway, if not for the endless noises of clanging metal continually pounding in Shirou's ears.

The enforcer gave him a glare as she approached. Her outfit had been stained in blood. No longer was she wearing the pristine dressings of a princess. Now she was some sort of twisted battle maiden bathed in the blood of her enemies. What had once been white, was now an eerie crimson shade. Even her hair had been partly dyed with the fluid and a splatter slowly trailed down her cheek.

"You look different," was all she said, lifting a sword-bearing hand to her chin as if thinking. "You patch up all your wounds with swords? Pretty interesting technique but it seems effective."

Shirou shifted his weight and as if on cue, the grating noise of steel pierced the night. Giving himself a brief once over, he realized that the sword flesh had extended to reach just below his knee. Even though he was wearing clothing, the cutting edges of this "skin" make quick work of the fabric, making itself visible as it spread. It had actually extended beyond his ankle and torn apart his shoe, meaning he was walking on one bare foot.

For the first time since this all began, Shirou noticed his trembling hands. Whether it was from pain, fear or something else entirely, he couldn't tell at this point. He was used to pain, maybe it was fear? "Well," he coughed, looking back to the petite enforcer. "You know what they say about doing the best with what you have."

Both eyes of the enforcer were flickering between the latticed blade skin and the sight of her own weapons in his hands. She hummed, twirled both blades then took slow steps forward. "I'm going to guess from the dead wolf behind you and the fact you're still holding swords that you're not going to come quietly or give me any information."

Shirou's foot discreetly slid back along the concrete, silently preparing himself for combat. It _would_ have been silent if it weren't for the blades expanding across his body. Instead, the bottom of his foot noisily ground across the concrete and made bright orange sparks. "Very observant of you."

The princess made a "hmph", twirling her blades at her sides while taking methodical steps forward. Shirou wanted to hurry this along, get everything over with so he could deactivate his magic circuits and stop the spread of sword flesh. Last time, it had barely gone below the surface of his skin. This time it had invaded much, much deeper. It was threatening to convert most of the flesh in his leg into blades and soon enough it would succeed.

Deciding that he had waited long enough, Shirou screeched forward. From the first move, he could tell that his foot was getting stiff. Moving the joint was becoming near impossible like he was trying to operate two sheets of metal rather than muscle and bones. The metal-on-metal grinding continued as two identical blades met and ground against one another. Bright orange sparks illuminated their determined faces. Appearances were obviously deceiving. Even though the enforcer was nearly a full foot shorter than Shirou, her strength was almost equal to his own. With the conversion of his right arm into patchwork blades and the full-body soreness from tonight's events, they were at the same level. What little she lacked in strength, she made up for in raw speed.

She was incredibly fast, Shirou was only able to keep his limbs due to his steadily growing suicidal technique. This technique also happened to be Shirou's only advantage in this battle. Since he knew her style and where her weapons would lead, he could pre-plan a string of attacks and actually get his own strikes in to put her on the defensive as well.

He was getting significantly better with interpreting other opponent's styles as well as developing his own fighting style. With each contact of their blades, Shirou's experience grew, growing increasingly confident with his fighting ability.

Sparks flew freely as the two combatants danced around one another. Shirou was only countering the woman's motions but she was spinning around him constantly, forcing him to make sparks with his foot as it skidded along the concrete. In the midst of his battle, searing hot pain began coursing through his entire body. Along with the sound of forging, a rhythmic screeching accompanied his heartbeat. Unable to stop his battle with the enforcer, he couldn't really trace himself, but something was definitely wrong.

Catching a point he could capitalize on, Shirou hooked his blade beneath the winged crossguard of his rival, snapping his arm upward with a twist to wrench the weapon out of her hand. With a whistling noise, the weapon was flung over his shoulder, landing somewhere behind him with a clatter.

The enforcer leapt back, looking over her hand for damages. When it was considered that this woman took on two fully grown werewolves alone, she was in remarkable shape. Only a few minor cuts and scraped in non-lethal areas dribbled blood. Shirou had been the first to leave a real mark: a grotesque gash which threatened to separate her thumb from her hand.

With some distance between them, Shirou gave himself a trace and discovered microscopic blades _invading his bloodstream_. They were lacerating him from the inside out, progressively killing him with each beat of his heart.

"You're pretty good. A lot more skilled than those wolves. Then again, with your father being who he is I suspect you were trained extensively." With the coordinated finesse of a fencer, the petite woman stood tall and flourished her remaining blade with one hand. "Unfortunately for you, swordsmanship isn't the only thing I'm good at."

As if on cue, the near-amputated thumb on her left hand knit itself back together with sinewy white threads, almost like spider silk. In fact, all of her wounds were being sealed by this material. Tracing the repaired wounds, Shirou found the material to be a mana-manipulated form of _hair_ , just like Illya's Engel Note. Come to think of it, her hair was a few inches shorter than it had been earlier.

This wasn't good. Whatever magecraft he had enacted on himself was progressively killing him and this enforcer was more durable than she looked. The princess had obviously been holding out, only deciding to get serious when she encountered a fight that actually strained her abilities. She still seemed confident with her odds, however. Shirou would as well if he were fighting someone in his condition.

The old man had demonstrated that being underestimated was a _good_ thing. Even though he could summon weapons and clothing again, if he tried to don Bazett's suit, it would be torn to shreds from his sword flesh. Trying to power torn clothing was like trying to get pressure in a hose with one end cut off. All his applied mana would leak out of the open threads. Kiritsugu's coat _might_ work a little better, but it might also experience the same shredded fate. Shirou decided that clothing wasn't an option for now. Weapons were his only usable projections.

It was only a matter of deciding which weapon to use. Would he continue keeping things close range and pelt her with blades as he occupied her front? Or would he shift the battle to long range? A brilliant plan combining the two blossomed within his mind and he decided to act on it while they were separated.

One blade dematerialized into blue sparks and his now empty right hand snaked behind his back. A cylindrical canister formed in his open palm. This first part of his plan required concealment. A long while ago when Kiritsugu brought Shirou into his hidden armoury. The boy had traced more than just an anti-magic crossbow. Firearms of every classification, bullets and most importantly, grenades. With some degree of dextrous skill, Shirou pulled the pin and dropped the spoon of the grenade all in one hand.

The tinkle of metal behind him set the enforcer into action, but his grenade had already been dropped to his feet. Clattering to the concrete with a rather dense noise, Shirou had to shift some of his focus to repelling the single blade directed his way. After releasing his grenade, he had reformed the other sword so he could better defend himself, taking large steps back to put himself out of range of the smoke.

"Trying to make a getaway with some sneaky trick? Are you a coward like your father, too?" the enforcer taunted, readying a strike. Something deep in Shirou's mind told him this attack would be stronger than most, so instead of lining up his own retaliatory strike, he crossed both blades in an X and tucked both elbows to better absorb the force. As soon as their blades collided, a large explosion of mana threatened to blow the weapons from Shirou's hands. His arms shuddered in a vain attempt at containing the raw power behind the impact. Still reeling from the blow, Shirou didn't expect a fist to plant itself in his abdomen and send him sliding along the ground.

The strike held enough force to wind him entirely and rupture his intestines, forcing blood up into his throat and mouth. The searing pain that had been coursing through him for some time now stabbed at his entire respiratory system as miniature sword-laden blood flowed freely throughout. Skidding along the concrete, Shirou smirked to himself even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The blades in his hand vanished, hands opening wide. "You're still standing? Jeez, you're tough. Why don't you just lie down and die?"

Like some sort of grenade dispensary, several already-fuming canisters formed around Shirou only to fire forward along the ground toward the enforcer. The canisters spread out through the general area, dispensing thick clouds of white smoke to cover most of the port. Shirou had only needed to activate one grenade before he could simply copy and project pre-activated canisters. As the first whiff of smoke struck her face, the enforcer took a deep breath and began coughing immediately as she tried to cover her face from the smoke. Kiritsugu was a very fond user of a specific smoke grenade. Brought out of commission in 1990, the AN-M8 produced smoke laden with zinc chloride, which became hydrochloric acid on contact with water. Humidity was high at the port, so the effect here would likely be incredibly pronounced.

The smoke rapidly obscured the woman and Shirou moved partly to the side - even with such intense pain running through every facet of his body, he still had a job to do. His own discomforts could wait. Unless he collapsed on the ground, he would put every effort into eliminating this threat.

And the enforcer was definitely still a threat. If Shirou didn't put this woman down here, right now, she would track down Sakura, or come straight to his house and hurt his friends. The image of Sakura in the clutches of that werewolf bolstered his resolve, and pistols found themselves forming in his hands. Shirou disliked using firearms, but he couldn't disregard their efficacy in what they were designed for: to kill.

In the dim moonlight, the beautiful engraving of " _Maiya_ " could clearly be seen. Tracing complex devices like pistols and grenades drained his reserves heavily, but he would only need to project them this once. With the enforcer still struggling to escape the seemingly endless cloud of smoke, Shirou lifted the two firearms toward the cloud and began firing each pistol in an alternating pattern. Between the deafening noises of echoing gunshots and the steel forging, a cry of pain reached Shirou's ears. He must have hit her at least once, but he continued firing until both pistols made a loud _click_. Dropping the magazines with the push of a button, two more were projected in place and as the slide was released, he began firing another volley.

When this set of magazines was empty, Shirou stopped and dematerialized both weapons, allowing the enforcer's green blades to re-form in his grip while he repositioned himself once more. He couldn't see anything stirring within the smoke so maybe the enforcer had fallen to a bullet?

Shirou made a small gasp of pain. Every inch of his body inside and out was in intense agony. He felt light and reasonably guessed that he was verging on the edge of collapsing. His vision dimmed heavily, but with a painful shake of his head, it returned.

A gust of wind sent a large portion of the smoke away, clearing the field and leaving behind the sight of an injured woman leaning against the nearby wall of the warehouse. She was holding onto her stomach in pain even though there was no wound visible. Curious, Shirou traced her to find that he _had_ shot her, she had simply healed over the bullet hole. The bullet itself was still lodged in her abdomen, foreign object likely causing her intense suffering.

Her hair was significantly shorter now. Although a little hair was a worthy sacrifice to prevent death to a bullet. She was holding another open hand over her face and a pale blue glow was emanating from the palm. As the smoke around her finally cleared, the woman lowered her hand and pushed off from the wall. "What the hell are you?"

Shirou thought that question over for some time, debating over what sort of interesting, witty thing he could say. After a second's pause, he spoke but his mind switched tracks in mid-sentence, so all he managed to get out was a stuttering, jumbled mess of his own name and his father's nickname. "The Shirou Killer." Even though his body was tearing itself apart, the embarrassment from his words seemed to hurt the most. His face scrunched up and his cheeks turned red as he ran his own words over in his mind.

"Good execution," the enforcer commented dryly.

As she neared, Shirou noticed that her now bright red eyes were streaming tears down her face and her nose seemed to be leaking clear fluid. Before he could gather any more useful data about her condition, he was forced to deflect a magically-enhanced sword. As the blade in his right hand contacted hers, an explosion of mana sent his own blade flinging from his hand. Thankfully, this wasn't a significant issue as he simply projected another blade to take the last one's place. Even though she had likely suffered injuries at the hands of both werewolves and Shirou himself, she hardly seemed the worse for wear. It was then he realized that she had likely been healing herself with her hair ever since the fight began.

As more blows were rained down onto him by the agile girl, Shirou rapidly realized that blocking her swords simply wasn't an option. If he wanted to reach her, he would have to do something unexpected to get under her blade. Even with a single blade, she was too fast for Shirou to feel comfortable in risking getting under her blade.

Or he could do something else entirely. As the blade in his right hand was blown away for the fifth time, Shirou projected a weapon to replace it, although, this time he had made a new blade. This wasn't a real sword, but a hollow shell he had extracted from an image of a sword. With the silver blade in his left hand, Shirou seamlessly deflected another attack only for the weapon to be expectedly flung from his grasp. Watching her movements and using her own technique stored in her weapons, Shirou could easily plan one move ahead. She would strike toward his right side now and his plan would come to fruition.

Like clockwork, the enforcer's single blade was swung toward Shirou's right weapon. At the briefest touch, the hollow sword shattered and the woman carried through into an off-balance state. She had been expecting some resistance as she had encountered time and time again. To have a blade act as if it were made of thin air threw her off and instantly put the fight into Shirou's favour.

Her abdomen was left wide open due to the overextension of her weapon. With her eyes going wide in realization, Shirou quickly thrust the still-forming silver blade into her stomach, making a grisly noise and eliciting a grunt of pain as the weapon entered one side and exited the other. Regardless of the amount of reinforcement she put her body through, it was nothing for such direct attacks. Her clothing wasn't enhanced, so it did little to stop the blades. Taking a shaking breath, Bazett's Irish-tinted words of wisdom came as a ghostly whisper to his ears, drowning out the clanging of a forge and his shrieking heartbeat.

" _Don't stop fighting until your opponent is unconscious or dead_."

Projecting another, shorter blade in his hand, Shirou used his free elbow to bend the woman over the weapon impaled in her abdomen. Spinning the blade in his hand, Shirou jammed the weapon into her back, forcing steel through her spine in one quick, merciless motion.

There was a sharp gasp and the clatter of steel while the enforcer's lower body failed her. She coughed, though whether that was from the two blades skewering her body or the residual effect of the smoke grenade was unclear. Weakly, her hand came up to grip his arm, trying to pull herself up and resume fighting even without a weapon or her lower half.

Shirou left the dagger impaled in her back, moving his hand slightly upward to project another which he stabbed into her cooling form. With two blades impaled in her spine, the woman couldn't mount much of a resistance. She collapsed further in Shirou's arms and the boy gently lowered her down to the ground. "Goddamnit," she cursed, sniffling noisily as she was settled on the concrete. "Taken down by some kid that creates swords, what a joke." Shirou didn't say a word, slouching over her form as the pain finally hit him at full force. The edges of his eyes were closing in and all the strength in his body left him as the adrenaline rapidly wore off.

Bazett's words reminded him once again, and he felt compelled to finish things once and for all. If this enforcer somehow escaped, she would go on and inform the Clock Tower, possibly alerting even the Einzberns as well. As much as Shirou hated to admit it, he had to kill her. He had to make sure there was no possibility of her escape.

A copy of her own blade formed itself in his hand, vision spotty and closing steadily with each passing second. Shirou collapsed on one knee, legs too weak to support him any longer. Every muscle in his body began to shut does one by one. Just holding the projected blade above his head felt like an insurmountable task.

Shirou looked down at his enemy, the fear and hatred in her eyes, the slight tremble of her body as it began to shut down from all the abuse it had gone through. Could he do this? Could he really kill another human being?

… … …

… … …

Sakura had run as she was instructed. She had gone straight toward someone who could help, none other than her wise sister. Stumbling through the iron front gate, Sakura sprinted up the walkway, lungs and throat burning from all the exertion she had put herself through.

The door opened before she actually reached it, the concerned figure of Rin standing in the doorway with the soft glow of light behind her. The Tohsaka called out her name first, bewilderment evident in her voice. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?" she asked at once, watching with confusion as Sakura paused to catch her breath.

"Senpai-harbor-werewolves-in trouble." The girl gasped, bending over and clutching at her neck as if it would ease the pain. Her body was heaving for oxygen. Unknown to either Rin or Shirou, Sakura was surprisingly fit for her age. Her only explanation for the feature was that the crest worms in her body were manipulating her in some way. Or maybe it was all the stairs she had to climb to get to and from the worm pit. The distance from her home to the harbour was still enough to test her stamina on a good day. Even if she wasn't naturally fit, the thought of Shirou being injured by her sluggishness was enough to send her sprinting the entire distance.

Her message was enough to get Rin on the right track. Seriousness spread across her face and the older girl began giving instructions immediately. "Go inside and call Kiritsugu to let him know what's going on." Without explaining anything else, the dark-haired girl moved out of the door and seemed prepared to run off just like that.

She would have too if Sakura hadn't caught her hand as she moved past. Turning around with a look of incredulity, the two sisters shared a look. Rin seemed to understand immediately and her face softened. "He'll be fine, Shirou's tougher than most. The only thing he'll have worry about is _me_ after I save his dumb ass."

Sakura wanted to laugh, she really did, but with her exhausted state, she made a pained wheeze instead. Her hand loosened its grip on her sister and Rin took that as a signal to break away and run off. Sakura reached out to try and stop her, to tell her sister that it was more than just the werewolves, but it was too late - Rin wasn't going to waste time looking back.

Sakura remained outside for a few more seconds while her breathing marginally slowed. Stumbling into the Tohsaka manor, the girl still remembered to remove her shoes before heading toward the kitchen where she knew the phone would be.

Reaching the device, the Matou punched in the correct numbers and held the receiver to her ear. On the second ring, the other line opened up with a calm greeting, one which lacked an identifier for who she was speaking to.

Sakura swallowed heavily, trying not to pant directly into the receiver and weird out who she assumed to be Kiritsugu. In speech that was slightly broken by her heaving breaths, Sakura relayed what she knew, being a little more descriptive than she had been with Rin.

There was little more than an acknowledgement and a short thank-you from the other end before the phone made an empty tone. Settling the receiver down in its holder, Sakura stood motionless for a moment as she considered what to do with herself. She was practically less than useless in a combat sense so her only option now was to sit and wait. Though, what would happen if-

Lifting her head from her vacant stare at the phone, Sakura spotted the warm eyes of her mother and a well of emotions bubbled up from deep within. Joy, sadness, regret, shame and embarrassment flickered across her features like a faulty projection. Her mother looked the same as she had remembered, but the sadness in her eyes nearly broke Sakura's heart. The girl's lip quivered before parting to speak.

Aoi beat her to it, speaking two simple words that brought tears to Sakura's eyes. "I'm sorry."

… … …

… … …

The endless meadow surrounded him once again. At this point, it was becoming familiar in a strange, concerning way. The scent of fish and salt had gone away, replaced with the pleasing smell of freshly cut grass, warm air and _hot steel_.

After taking in the sights, Shirou examined himself, finding several things all at once. At first, he realized that his body felt weightless, an extreme contrast to how it had been just moments prior. What hit him next, was the expeditious spread of sword skin. His entire body was being converted to blades at a surprising rate, starting at his feet.

The pain he had felt during his fight with the enforcer was _nothing_ compared to this and as a response, Shirou openly screamed in agony. The noise of his own voice actually scared him more than the rising level of sword flesh. He wasn't one to shout or make noises of pain but his body was acting of its own volition.

He tried to step forward, lower body making grinding, screeching noises and filling his entire body with inscrutable pain. With a disgusting, sudden grinding noise, jutting swords burst from beneath his skin in various portions of his body. In an instant, it felt as if he had been stabbed a hundred thousand times across each inch of skin. With each bursting section, his body jerked in sporadic directions, throwing him to and fro as the sword flesh covered his entire body.

As his limbs were converted into unrecognizable piles of overlapping steel, Shirou wished for nothing but death, an end to this traumatic nightmare. As if his wish was being answered, a bright flash of light overtook the area and Shirou found the pain dissipating as weight returned to his body all at once.

Like being dragged up from the bottom of a lake, he felt himself being yanked upward. He had no idea where, but the blinding light in his eyes slowly gave way to darkness. A voice from wherever he was heading reached his ears, but the words were too distorted to actually understand.

All at once, like he had been splashed with icy water, he returned to his body and gasped, chest heaving like he was a fish out of water. A hand on his chest kept his body on the ground as if he could even move with how heavy he felt at the moment.

The stabbing pain of a thousand blades returned to him. With bleary eyes, Shirou looked down to examine the main contributor of agony. His entire left leg had been converted into blade-skin, gleaming in the moonlight even with partly rusted edges. Leaning his head back and pressing it hard against the concrete in pain, Shirou shut his eyes and deactivated his magic circuits. Unlike last time, the pain failed to subside. In fact, without the reinforcement of his body, it might have hurt even more. At this point, the pain had transcended any sort of scale so Shirou wasn't sure either way.

A sob reached his ears and for the first time, he realized who was there. For the first time in his life, determined blue-green eyes were unfamiliar to him. It was Rin, but it wasn't her at the same time. Rin was a confident, knowledgeable girl who was always one step ahead of everyone. She responded to new situations with extreme professionalism, something that could even be called grace.

So who was this frightened, quivering woman looming over him with unbridled terror and suffering in her eyes? "Y-you-" she stammered, unable to get her thoughts out coherently. "How do you have a reality marble?" The question came out of nowhere; with the pain coursing through his body, he could hardly force out a single word. Rin only shook her head, a single tear from her eyes striking his face to mingle with the beads of sweat forming across his body. "That means…"

Shirou hardly understood what she was saying, but he could see that she needed something to ease her mind off. With what little strength he could muster, he wheezed out a question that had been plaguing his mind since it had happened. "If you're bitten by a werewolf, do you turn into one?"

Rin was speechless, mouth parted in an odd emotion while more tears dripped onto his face. Suddenly, she sniffled and partially shook her head. "No, werewolves don't- the curse doesn't work like that, you big dummy." She weakly laughed at the absurdity of his question, tears trailing down her face as they began to flow freely. Shirou, on the other hand, was relieved. Ever since that black werewolf had grabbed onto him, the thought had been bubbling in the back of his mind.

The sound of a car engine from behind distracted the two of them. Weakly turning his head, Shirou watched from an angle as Kiritsugu and Illya both leapt out of the vehicle. Since when did they own a car?

The albino was shouting his name, tearing up much more readily than Rin - who was busy wiping her face to appear professional. The Tohsaka made a discreet sniffle and wiped her eyes with her sleeve before standing. Illya had sprinted toward him while the black-haired girl stormed toward the old man with obvious fury.

Shirou's vision was dominated by white and red as his sister wrapped both arms around his neck, forcing his body to bend and causing him more pain. "I'm so glad you're alright, I was so worried when you left the ho-" Illya stopped dead as her eyes landed on his leg, pupils visibly contracting in astonishment. She started panicking over the sight but before Shirou could try to calm her down, everything faded to black.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Rin sat at the foot of his futon, hair down and body draped in yellowish pyjamas featuring cute little cat faces. Illya was tucked up beneath her own futon, something which had been moved into his room since the night he was injured. Even Sakura was in his room, sitting on her knees at his other side in a pink nightgown, carefully replacing the bandages covering his body. They were all preparing for bed, offering Shirou a few more minutes of company and ensuring he was comfortable.

While most normal men would enjoy being pampered by three gorgeous women, Shirou hated every second of it. Beyond the fact that he didn't like the thought of women in his room, they constantly tried to feed, water and bathe him like some sort of pet. He could do all of that on his own, he didn't need their help with anything. Even if his legs weren't working and most of his joints refused to bend, he would figure something out if he had enough time to think. Besides, he had gotten hurt two days ago, did he really need to be watched over like a child or a convict?

"Are you listening?" came a rather aggravated pout from the Tohsaka. "I thought you wanted to understand how stupid you really are." Sakura snapped her head like a whip, giving her sister a glare that spoke volumes. Rin grumbled, "I mean, how to better use your power."

"I don't think he should use that ever again," Illya commented, boring holes in the side of her brother's head. She had been by his side like some sort of cancerous growth since the incident.

"Illya, you can't deny Shirou the strongest weapon in his arsenal because he let himself get carried away once. If he can be taught how to control it, a situation like that won't ever happen again," Rin commented, giving the two Emiya children a challenging glare. "As I was saying, you were able to create a miniature reality marble within the limits of your own body. A reality marble is the actualization of one's inner world, their creation, use and abilities are undocumented due to simple lack of research possibilities. Only Dead Apostles have been documented to possess them."

"And heroic spirits," Shirou added, lifting up his shoulder to provide Sakura access to those bandages. As much healing as Illya could do, the homunculus had a limit and the hell that his body had gone through far exceeded that. She had almost drained _her_ reserves keeping him alive on the trip back home. The sword flesh covering his body had taken hours to fully subside and due to the depth of invasion, Illya had to regenerate his entire leg hundreds of times before it would actually retain any healing. While she could put all the pieces of his body back where they belonged, she couldn't make it all work as intended or alleviate the soreness such an action brought on.

Rin nodded. "In order for you to gain control over your reality marble, you'll have to get a better understanding of your inner world, whatever that might be. This means learning _exactly_ how you see yourself, and describing your life experiences through an appropriate aria." Rin picked up a notepad and a pen, clicking it audibly before giving Shirou an odd look. "What did you say to activate your reality marble?"

Shirou furrowed his brow. Was it really wise to give up his secrets like this? Then again, Rin was readily disobeying the Mage's Association by harbouring him and Kiritsugu in Fuyuki. She was probably one of the most trustworthy people sitting around him right now. "I am the bone of my sword," he recalled. Without his circuits activated, his speech was just a simple string of harmless words.

Writing the sentence down, Rin gave him a waiting look. After a few seconds of awkward silence passed, she set the pen down on the pad with a thwack. "That's it? All that power from a single line?"

Shirou furrowed his brow, taking the trouble to sit up in his bed. "I wouldn't call what happened to me as _power_." Having his body torn to shreds from the inside out seemed to be more of a downside than anything. Although, he did know the second line. For whatever reason, his mind had given him that much information.

I am the bone of my sword, steel is my body and fire is my heart.

Rin blanched as if he had just told her the moon was a lie, face suddenly turning to annoyance. "If you're being serious, I must be a really bad teacher. Shirou, you were able to take on two werewolves and an enforcer on your own. I've seen you fight and while you're good, you're nothing compared to someone like Bazett."

"She's right you know," came a strong Irish voice from the door. Leaning in the doorway was Bazett in her typical suit. "You said the enforcer was named Elizabeth Velum, right?" Rin offered a nod, curious to see what the woman would say. "That little lass was a firecracker for sure. She was much faster than I could ever be and she wittled her opponents down by leaving cuts and scars on them even if they fully blocked her attacks. The longer a fight went on, the weaker an enemy would get from all the bleeding cuts." Bazett pushed her shoulder off the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest. "If I was a gambling woman - which I am - I'd bet you only lived because whatever your skin turned into kept you from bleeding out. It might have even sliced her up as she tried to attack as well, who knows." The enforcer shrugged, turning partway into the hall. "Either way, she's dead now and good riddance." Everyone seemed shocked at the comment besides Rin, who quietly mumbled that she would have to agree.

… … …

… … …

More days passed by uneventfully. Kiritsugu finally returned from his mission and was glad to be back. After the freelancers and enforcers were dealt with, the old man went through the laborious process of relocating their bodies so their paths wouldn't be traced right back to Fuyuki. If they were discovered to have died in Fuyuki, they would be swarmed with magi from the Tower. Both father and son agreed that three people had been more than enough.

On the fifth day, Shirou regained the use of his body and could actually walk around the house and go to school, although he still had to take things slowly. The wounds from both his fight and his blade flesh had all healed and it was only a matter of moving his body around to get all the soreness out.

Quite a lot without Shirou's interaction had taken place over the past week. First and foremost, Sakura had practically moved into his home. She only returned to her own home once every three days for supposed "personal reasons". But Shirou understood the meaning behind the lie - she needed to go through training with those foul worms or else they would devour her from the inside out.

At least she wasn't suffering as much as she could be. Shirou had long intended to figure out a way to help her, but with all that had happened, his time had been extremely limited. Unfortunately, his schedule didn't seem to be getting any more open. In fact, it was getting tighter as the days went on. Rin was training him in both reality marbles, magecraft _and_ magi etiquette. Kiritsugu and Bazett were restarting his physical training and there was someone else in his home who also took up a large chunk of his time.

Missy, the woman he had rescued from the serial killer, had unexpectedly been taking over the majority of household duties. She had actually taken it upon herself as a way to repay her "debt" toward Shirou for saving her life. While Shirou didn't believe that she had any sort of payment to make, he had to admit that it was nice having someone to help around the house while he was unable to do it himself. She had yet to regain her memories and according to Kiritsugu, nobody was looking for a woman of her description.

At the least, Missy's personality had developed since her first arrival. Rather than being a shy, reserved girl similar to Aoi and Sakura, Missy turned out to be an outgoing woman who could hold engaging conversation for hours when prompted. She was a closeted extrovert, someone who had to be pulled out of their shell. She also developed a fierce interest in botany, specifically with flowers and colourful plant arrangements. Deciding it was better than sitting around the house with idle hands, Shirou had given her some spending money and allowed her to buy whatever she so desired. As her mind only seemed to shroud important personal details rather than life skills, Missy was also allowed to leave the house whenever she liked once it was established that she wouldn't get lost.

Missy was strangely complacent with knowing nothing about herself. Kiritsugu had intended to make Rin manually unlock her memories through magecraft, but after asking the woman some non-magical questions about her memories, it was clear to see that she _preferred_ being oblivious to her past.

Shirou couldn't understand it himself, he would have wanted to know of his past family regardless of what it cost. With the event so far in the past, unlocking his own memories through magecraft was impossible. Everybody had their own wishes and desires, however, and Kiritsugu eventually relented.

Last but not least, final exams were looming just around the corner. With all Shirou's downtime, he was incredibly unprepared and his confidence in schoolwork was at an all-time low. Shirou had a feeling that he would lose this year's challenge to Rin and that thought was enough to frighten him immensely.

Settling onto his knees, Shirou let out an exhausted sigh and rested his head on the dining table. "Maybe training that hard wasn't such a good idea," he complained idly to nobody in particular. His words were poorly coded due to Missy's presence in the kitchen.

A snort preceded the soft clatter of china. "If you ever go too far, we could set you up outside the house as a real-to-life statue." Kiritsugu thanked Missy, who had set coffee and tea in front of the father and son respectively. Lifting his head to offer the old man a glare, Shirou returned a sarcastic laugh drier than a desert.

"You seem to be much better at least. If you continue to improve, you might even be healthy enough to accept a gift I've been holding onto." Kiritsugu lifted his cup from the plate, taking a noisy sip of scalding liquid.

"As long as this gift doesn't wind up killing me, I'll take it." Rather than deny the claim, Kiritsugu only smiled and set his cup down. Shirou couldn't help but feel dread over the reaction. The old man only held his silence when he wasn't confident in his answer. Settling his head back down on the table, Shirou groaned. "I have the feeling that whatever it is will hurt."

… … …

… … …

… … …

Time Alter: Double Accel!

Merely thinking the words and activating his circuits made the world almost stop. Shirou realized that time hadn't stopped, it was simply moving at half speed. Or, rather, he was moving twice as fast. The slightest motion of his arm sent a wave of pain through his entire body. It was far from the agony he'd experienced with blades for skin, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

Both arms shot up, making two light jabs at the suit-clad woman ahead of him. Shirou could feel the sharp impact jarring through his arms even though it appeared so harmless. He watched as Bazett tried to defend herself futile after his attack had landed, body groaning forward as the pain hit home. Merely the thought of wanting to return to normal brought the world back from its slow-motion state. Both Shirou _and_ Bazett let out a sharp gasp. The former from the sheer shock of being thrust in and out of Time Alter, and the latter from the two blows delivered to her abdomen.

Like a bad mirror, both collapsed on one knee, griping at the pain running through their bodies. Shirou turned his head to look at his father. "This is what you have to deal with each time you use this?"

"You taught him _that_?" Bazett growled like an animal, clutching her stomach while struggling to stand.

The old man shrugged, looking toward Bazett and answering her first. "Taught, gave, it's rather hard to describe the passing of a magical crest with such mundane words." He turned his head to Shirou, crossing both arms over his chest dramatically. "You learn to live with it. An ability that comes with a cost."

Turning his head to give Bazett an odd look, the strangest sensation in his life took hold. The entire world around him began speeding up at an exponential rate. Bazett had snapped upright and Kiritsugu moved in front of him in the blink of an eye. They were speaking, but their voices were so distorted by the pitch and so loud that he couldn't understand a word. Just as suddenly, both had disappeared and left him alone in the backyard. The wind felt like a galeforce against his body and he could actually feel his skin tanning in the sun. He could still move normally in this state, and he took the time to look over his body with concern. Nothing seemed wrong for the moment, but what was going on with time? A brief glance toward the sun revealed the bright orange ball to be steadily lowering toward the horizon.

As if he had broken through a wall, time snapped to its correct course and everything came to him at once. Sound and sensation awkwardly snapped to how they were supposed to be. Shirou took a moment to look himself and the area over one again. What had just happened?

Since nobody was there to answer his question, Shirou cautiously walked toward the house and found everyone, besides Missy, leisurely sitting in the dining room. As he poked his head in, Kiritsugu made a hum. Without even waiting for the boy to ask, the old man began explaining. "What you experienced was a side effect following the initial execution of our family's magic." Shirou opened his mouth to ask for more explanation but Kiritsugu resumed before he could get a word in edgewise. "Gaia aims to correct your timeline by inversely affecting your body. You'll continue to experience this effect for some time until your body and Gaia acclimate themselves to one another's effects. Depending on how often you use the crest, you should gain mastery within a year, maybe two. Only then will the effects disappear entirely."

Shirou made a curious noise, scratching an itch on his head. "Sounds like you had that whole speech planned out."

"Of course he did. You were out there for two hours," Bazett commented, lazily leaning on the table with her elbow as she watched the news on TV.

" _Two hours_?" Shirou repeated, looking at the Clock on the wall. "That means I'll have to start dinner right now and I still need to get my homework done!"

The two adults shifted to shoot him a vacant stare, then shrugged eerily in tandem. It was shocking how similar the two were in personality. Although Bazett had a little more charm from her Irish side and could be significantly more energetic depending on the day, she still retained a sense of cold professionalism at her core.

With an exasperated huff of breath, Shirou turned around. "I'll get started after a shower."

… … …

Shirou twisted and turned as he looked himself over in the mirror. With his head peering over his shoulder, he ran his fingers over the new, sensitive skin of his back. Just like the old man himself, the Emiya crest was embedded dead center between his shoulder blades. Currently covered by a thick layer of scar tissue and swelling where the circuits from a non-blood related magus lied.

With the snap of a pistol hammer, grid-like blue lines an inch wide spread across his beige skin in every direction. The ends crept over his shoulders, wrapped around his chest and even shot up to the base of his neck. Unlike the rest of the ribbon-like circuitry, which ended in sharpened points, the end on his neck suspiciously resembled a sword. Three diamonds of varying size and orientation to make up the hilt, crossguard and blade. Perhaps that was his body's own way of acclimating the foreign circuitry.

The transfer process had been conducted over a few hours a little under a week ago, two weeks after his encounter with the enforcer. Rin had been the one to conduct the process and she had stated such a transplant would be impossible, that it would kill the boy. A foreign body connecting straight into the host's magic circuits would wreak havoc on Shirou, supposedly.

If that havoc was agonizing pain, Shirou had certainly felt that. He had a feeling that Rin had meant something along the lines of spontaneous death, however. In order to transfer a family crest as rapidly as Kiritsugu desired, the Emiya crest essentially had to be torn out by force and jammed into Shirou with the same brutal method.

The first major problem with that plan was that Shirou's wounds closed themselves up faster than Rin could work. That meant she had to occasionally recut the still-healing flesh to get deep enough. Once Rin finished moving most of Kiritsugu's crest, Illya sealed both of their wounds and the two had to remain in the same room for a few more hours in a meticulously crafted environment that would better aid the odds of acceptance.

Even though the wound was healed, the area still felt as if it were on fire. Shirou chalked it up to the "acclimation" process of his body and the foreign circuits. Once Rin and Illya had left them alone in the room, Kiritsugu explained that this process would succeed and that it was only because of Avalon. The sheath would - theoretically - keep Shirou alive as it fixed any possible shorts that might have occurred during the placement process. Without Avalon, the old man would have never even attempted such a procedure.

Shirou couldn't help but shiver as the feeling of that day returned to him. With struggling contortion, he itched the offending spot on his back. With the Emiya crest and his mangled mess of trash-tier circuits, the total had increased to a respectable fifty-three. Shirou found it amusing that while he had only inherited fifteen circuits, his reserves nearly doubled. The Emiya lineage was quite young but the crest circuits were of surprisingly decent quality, twenty units of energy each.

Shirou's still remained a drop in a puddle compared to lake-like and Illya's ocean-scale reserves. But mana reserves meant nothing when it came to combat potential. The old man was a blatant example of that fact. Speaking of, the old man handled the entire crest-transfer process significantly better than Shirou. Even though he had his entire back sliced up like deli meat, he had walked around as if nothing was wrong. Five circuits had been left within him so that he could still enact the miracle himself, just at a less efficient rate.

The crest had been Kiritsugu's hinted gift for the Clock Tower, offered early so Shirou could gain some experience with Time Alter and reduce the severity of its side effects. Shirou could see the miracle's potential immediately and he couldn't express enough gratitude.

A knock on the bathroom door diverted his attention. From the other side, Illya wailed his name like a starved cat. "I'm so hungry and you haven't even started making dinner yet."

With a laugh, Shirou quickly put on some fresh clothes and opened the door. Illya was standing there, holding her stomach dramatically with the biggest pout he had ever seen. Patting her head, the boy smiled. "I'll get started soon, shouldn't take much longer than an hour." That estimated wait period definitely didn't seem to satisfy her, and she only whined harder. Chuckling, Shirou ruffled her hair and purposely threw some in front of her face. "If you went and got Missy to help me, I might be able to cut that to forty-five minutes."

Her face lit up and without a second thought, the homunculus took off down the hallway. Regardless of what time or day, the allure of food could drive Illya to do a scary number of things. Laughing at the absurdity of it all, Shirou moved to start preparing dinner.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"Your plane is waiting for you at the airport," Kiritsugu relayed, turning away from the landline after depositing the receiver. Today had been the last day of school and Shirou rushed home to make sure everything was ready. He had actually run all the way home, leaving Illya and Rin in the dust just in case things happened ahead of schedule.

Unfortunately, and like most things in life, it had actually been late. Shirou had been forced to wait even though all he needed for his trip was accounted for. "Let me guess, you called in another favour?" The old man nodded, settling back down at the table. "Sooner or later, you're going to run out and you won't have any to use when you need them."

The Magus Killer shrugged, rolling his shoulder in discomfort. If he was in similar shape to Shirou himself, the scarring on his back was likely still healing. "What cannot be achieved through favours can usually be bought with money."

Shirou's face scrunched up in confusion. "Do I want to know where all this money comes from?"

Kiritsugu shook his head, "Probably not. In fact, it's better if you don't."

Before Shirou could comment further on the matter, he heard the front door slide open followed by the angry shouting of his name. Like distant thunder, the rage-fueled steps of a Tohsaka on a warpath boomed through the house. Thankfully the door to the dining room was left open otherwise Rin might have thrown it off its rail. Standing in the doorway, she glowered at the boy like he had just tried to murder her. "Did you think you were going to be able to leave without saying goodbye?"

Shirou groaned, throwing his head back in lamentation. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a smile spread across the old man's face. "Tohsaka, I need to leave soon, I don't have time f-"

"You're not getting out of this, Shirou," came the equally annoyed voice of Illya. Sliding into view the two totally blocked the exit. While the dining room had two exits, Shirou doubted he could make it out of either before they would block him off. His sister was already toying with her trademark blue strings. Running wasn't an option, he was stuck.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, hammer of a gun firing off a fictional bullet within his mind. Just because he couldn't run, didn't mean he couldn't fight. "You want to bet?"

… … …

There were points in his life where Shirou could precisely determine what he disliked; this was one of those times. With his arms, legs and most of his body wrapped up in Engel Note, he was rooted in place, at the mercy of his tormentors who were threatening him with goodbyes

"You only won because I'm still sore from fighting those werewolves," Shirou huffed, looking up at the two women looming above him. Rin was gently rubbing her smoking knuckles while Illya readied more strands of Engel Note just in case.

Rin gave a look that clearly revealed how much she believed him. "Sure, but we still won. Now sit there and wait for Sakura."

Shirou's face split into surprise. "Sakura is coming?"

Rin bent down and flicked his head, reinforced finger equivalent to a punch. "Of course she is you, idiot! Did you really expect to leave us all for months without saying anything?" She stood back up and crossed both arms over her chest, maintaining the sharp glare of a disciplinary instructor.

Unable to rub his forehead, Shirou shut one eye to try and will the pain away. He hadn't expected anything if he were being honest. On top of that, he disliked goodbyes. There was such a strange finality to farewells like he would never come back, and the thought made him uneasy. "Fine, not like I have a choice in this either way."

Illya poked him on the nose, giggling. "Not at all. You're staying tied up because we both know how sneaky you are."

With an annoyed groan, the sight of burgundy poked into the hallway. Judging by the robe, the messy hair and the stretching, Bazett had just woken up - at four in the afternoon. "What the hell's going on here? Sounds like someone trying t'crush a mosquit-oh, you were fighting Shirou." The Irish woman gave a lazy, sleep-addled half-smile before scratching the back of her head.

"Did you seriously just roll out of bed?" Shirou asked, astonished that someone could sleep so late and appear so casual about it.

The woman sighed and looked more embarrassed than angry. "I was up all night finishing my gift, I only got t'sleep a couple hours ago." With Bazett living in the same house, Shirou had noticed that her accent was significantly more apparent after waking like she actively repressed it when fully aware.

"You wanted to give me a gift before I go?" Shirou asked with genuine surprise. The woman had always seemed so cold that the prospect actually caught him off guard.

Now was the time for Bazett to look angry, placing one hand dramatically on her hip. "Did you forget I'm going with ya, you bleedin' eejit?" The woman lazily rolled her eyes while giving her head a shake. "And of course I made you a gift. Couldn't have you strolling about looking like you are."

"I really did forget about you," Shirou admitted with some chagrin, deflating what little he still could while being tied up like a hog. "But what's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"You _are_ thick, aren't you?" the woman asked rhetorically. "How did you think you were going to hide your identity?" Shirou opened his mouth to explain what he and Rin had planned for that, but Bazett continued. "Whatever your plan was, it was stupid. This is much better and since you'll have to put it on in a couple hours anyway, I'll tell you what it is: a custom-tailored suit engraved with runes by yours truly." With obvious pride, the woman placed one hand on her chest and put on a shut-eyed, smug smirk.

From down the hall, the sound of an opening door signalled Sakura's arrival. Stepping around the corner with some haste, she spotted Shirou and immediately looked confused. "Why is Senpai tied up?"

Rin offered a short greeting look before facing Shirou once more. "He was trying to run off on us without saying goodbye so Illya tied him down until you could get here."

A sharp whistle from the dining room took everyone's attention. Stepping from the doorway, a neutral-looking Kiritsugu asserted his control over the situation. "Let's not waste the pilot's time. I'm going to pull the car up and anyone who wants to see Shirou off is welcome to come along."

Taking a step toward the door, Shirou stopped him with a question. "Since when did we own a car?"

Kiritsugu turned and offered a smile. "We always have, I've just left it parked nearby and never had a use for it. We also own a motorbike, but that's something for another day." Shirou found that comment odd. The '93 Yamaha Vmax that Saber had used in the Fourth War had been blown to bits by the initial explosion of the Great Fire. Had the old man purchased another one since then?

A question for another time, he supposed. The thread binding his body exploded in a puff of blue sparks and Shirou made a noise of strain as he stood. "You still don't hold back your punches, Tohsaka."

"Sometimes all it takes to get your head on track is a strong jab to the chest," she smirked, holding up the fist she had used just moments ago.

Shirou cracked his knuckles on both hands. "I wonder if the magi at the Clock Tower will work the same way." The bland look he got out of Rin was priceless and the comment even made Bazett laugh.

"You're going to fit in _just_ fine with that attitude," the Irish woman continued chuckling as she walked back into her room.

… … …

… … …

Fuyuki didn't have an airport within its city limits and the nearest international airport was hours away. But neither of these facts mattered because they weren't going to any of the known international airports. They were actually using a private airport nestled between Misaki and Fuyuki. That way, their plane would be harder to track and the entire journey could remain subtle. After loading their bags into the plane, everyone stood on the tarmac to say their goodbyes as the plane warmed its engines.

Since everyone had wanted to say farewell and the car only seated five, Illya had to sit on Shirou's lap - an awkward experience to say the least. He could have sworn that she was sticking her tongue out at Rin and Sakura through the entire trip and he could see they were actually getting jealous. Shirou and his father shared a brief hug and a stern nod that expressed the old man's faith. Illya and Sakura shared a much tighter embrace, both telling him to come home safe, and then he got to Rin.

She had this smug look on her face and Shirou couldn't quite figure out why. "Did you forget that you still owe me from our bet?" Cursing mentally, Shirou put on a dumb disposition and tried to ask what bet she referred to. By the way the Tohsaka rolled her eyes, she didn't believe him for a second. " _I_ got higher grades than you this year, which means you owe me an undeniable request." The girl took one large step forward, throwing her hands behind her back with the cheekiest grin Shirou had ever witnessed. He leaned back as the awkward nature of the exchange reached him, cluelessly asking what her request was.

"A kiss," she mumbled, moving forward all at once. Before Shirou could open his mouth to state any sort of rejection, she had wrapped both arms around the back of his neck and tugged his head down with surprising strength. A short noise was all he could get out before her lips had already pressed against his and a remarkable sensation sparked through his body. His eyes shut on reflex but the rest of his body awkwardly locked in place. The heat of her rosy cheeks was practically pouring onto his face and with it came the intoxicating scent of fine, earthen wine and vanilla.

The kiss barely lasted more than two seconds but it felt like minutes. Neither of the two had actually broken away themselves. Rather, Bazett had grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward the plane. "For Christ's sake he's not going off to war, he'll be back in a couple months. Now get on the damn plane before you get caught up in the fight that's going to break out."

Stumbling as control over his body returned to him, he glanced between Bazett and Rin with blatant confusion. A fight was going to break out right here? Shirou caught a glimpse of Sakura and finally understood what she had meant. With her cheeks as bright as her shirt, Rin left him with some comforting words. "Come home safe or else!"

The violet-haired Matou was practically steaming with anger, scowling at her sister with death in her normally reserved eyes. Gathering his footing, Shirou actually jumped into the plane ahead of Bazett, wanting to leave here before either of the girls decided to turn their attention to him.

Once the two were seated and the door sealed, it wasn't much more than fifteen minutes before they were taking off down the runway and climbing into the sky. In a little over half an hour, the plane had reached its determined altitude and both passengers were allowed to stand. According to Bazett, before they could discuss their first order of business in Britain, he would have to put on the outfit she made.

Shirou wanted to ask why, but the look of insistence on her face as she handed him the opaque clothing bag left no room for argument. Grumbling, Shirou took the bag and visited the bathroom to put it on.

He carefully set the bag on the small counter so he could unzip it to view its contents. He had expected something simple, a heavy coat and some sort of mask. He definitely hadn't expected this incredibly intricate ensemble before him. The outfit began with a black unitard which featured tight metal bands about one inch thick on the legs and arms. The entire article was laden with defence-focused runes intricately engraved just upon the surface. Even taking into account how thin the material was; when fully powered it was equivalent to steel in defensive strength. The only downside Shirou could see was that it would drain an extreme amount of mana to achieve such a level of protection. A secondary set of runes was engraved on the chest. Shirou barely recognized it as a type of disguise sigil. It was likely to prevent normal people from seeing him while he wore the outfit. It would be tedious to try and explain the getup to every passerby.

The next portion of his new uniform covered his chest. While much thicker and heavier, the black material was pliable and could bend in Shirou's hand, making a leather-like squeak as it did. It was a polymer material Shirou had never seen before. Considering that it ended at his shoulders, this piece was more of a vest, but it was still well made regardless. Reaching deeper into the bag, he withdrew the only piece that offered the outfit any real colour. It was a thin scarf in bright crimson. It actually included a little card with instructions on how he was to wrap it around his head. According to the diagram, it would cover most of his face like he was some sort of assassin.

The last piece he could see in the bag was a hefty hooded cape in black. It was long enough to reach the back of his knees and wide enough to conceal most of his arms if he so desired. Draping it over his head, Shirou felt something strike his chest. It was some sort of two-point harness connection in matte black metal. Clicking the other end into the harness, Shirou realized that the entire piece actually connected into the vest of the outfit. Another click settled the piece in place and subsequently pushed a circular portion in center outward.

As a test, Shirou pressed the harness button inward and the harness assembly popped out and ejected the other clasp in one motion. It was a quick-release system, likely for use in the off chance that it got caught on something.

Rebuckling the cape and setting it in his chest, Shirou threw the hood over his head and looked himself over in the mirror. It was like he was some other person entirely. The hood shrouded his hair and eyebrows which rendered his default look into a menacing visage. In the mirror, a steely cold man stared back at him. Imitating an angry expression beneath his hood, the visage only grew in intensity.

If the objective was to force everyone he met away, this outfit would surely accomplish that. After fully dressing, Shirou realized that he lacked both gloves and shoes. A better search of the bag provided to him revealed two black leather gloves settled in the bottom. Carefully withdrawing them, Shirou felt a sense of familiarity. When he moved to put them on, a piece of carefully folded paper caught his eye. Carefully, the boy removed it and began reading his father's neat handwriting.

… … ...

 _Shirou_

 _I might not have been the most active father figure, but it was to protect you and Illya. You obviously know how disliked our family name is, but you likely underestimate how vengeful magi of the Clock Tower really are._

 _I do not know what Rin has told you of the Clock Tower, but it is run by families of noble magi known as "lords". These lords are incredibly powerful and could compete against low-ranking heroic spirits in terms of power. The most threatening of all is the current Vice Director of the Clock Tower: Lorelei Barthomeloi. I do not over exaggerate by saying she would kill a magus for not recognizing her on sight, so avoid her at all costs._

 _The only lord you can speak with in moderate confidence is the current Archibald head. Following the Fourth War, the only other surviving master took over the family of another master who I had killed. This man, Waver Velvet, is the sole reason you were permitted to attend the Clock Tower. He is the only person in the Tower who knows of your true identity and where I currently reside. If you encounter problems which you believe to be out of your control, inform him immediately._

 _While my knowledge of those attending the Clock Tower is limited, should someone of the Edelfelt family be attending, keep them at a distance. While they hold no real power in the Clock Tower, they are a mercenary-type family bordering on the line of freelancing. I have no doubts that they hold an assassination contract with my name on it. I won't go into extensive details here._

Shirou reached the end of the note and was surprised to see even more on the backside.

 _These gloves are the only thing which I can offer to you that I know you will accept and use. They are the very same gloves I crafted myself more than eight years ago, although they've undergone slight modifications. They have been restored to their former glory and Bazett has taken the time to touch up my dated runecraft. While you could have simply projected their old form, it's never a bad thing to receive an upgrade._

 _A rented car is waiting for you at the airport and if you find the school dormitory rooms insufficient or lacking in privacy, a home in your fake name has been rented for the following months. Your mentor knows the address, speak to her if you wish to move._

 _Stay safe_

… … …

Shirou couldn't help but smile warmly at his father's note. It was touching to think that the Magus Killer cared so deeply about him. While he supposed it had always been known, it was nice to see it in writing. Shirou set the note on the counter and was surprised to watch it spontaneously combust. The paper burnt away, not even leaving ashes behind.

With that strange occurrence over, Shirou slipped on the gloves and flexed his fingers appraisingly. Even though they were made of leather, it felt as if he wasn't wearing anything at all. A quick trace of the rune enchantments revealed their true hidden effects. There were two enchantments on each glove. One was to elevate defence much like the rest of his outfit. The other was a combination rune which would increase the speed of his fists upon activation. While the increase was marginal compared to Time Alter, cheap, easy improvements were far from unwelcome.

Shirou was astonished at how much effort had been put into a new outfit, but he realized that the ensemble still lacked footwear. Had they forgotten or was he just expected to use his normal shoes?

As ready as he could be, Shirou stepped out of the bathroom to a pleased-looking Bazett. "Not bad, not bad. You almost look scary enough to stay away from." Standing from her seat, the woman moved toward him, pulling on the hood of his cape and tucking the scarf within. She even shook the vest to put it in place like a preening mother. "Did you figure out a new name for yourself?"

Shirou put up with the woman's ministrations, feeling like some sort of display mannequin. "We decided that a nickname would work better. Rin figured that the more basic, the better as there would be less to look into."

Bazett looked up into his eyes with the blandest look he had ever seen her muster. "I asked for the name, not the story behind it."

Shirou awkwardly chuckled, reaching up and scratching his head through the hood. "Officially I'm registered in the Clock Tower as Haruto Takahashi, a blend of simple common names. The nickname we've gone with is _Blade_."

Bazett made a hum, likely thinking the name over. "It's not the worst name I've ever heard. Little bit on the nose though, don't you think?" The woman took a few steps back to her seat, reaching beneath for something hidden below.

Shirou could only shrug. "It's what I am, might as well embrace it." Bazett made a noise of resigned agreement, standing tall with a pair of boots in her hand.

"I got these custom made and I didn't want them tearing open the bag so I had to bring them separately," she explained. With a gentle toss, the boots were flung in his direction, landing on the floor of the plane with a considerable thump. They were made of hardened black leather at their base, with thin steel plating over the toe and along the back of the ankle. This was the only piece of his outfit which wasn't embedded with defence-bolstering runes. Whether that was because Shirou hardly used his legs in combat or if it was purely to increase his running speed was unknown. Stepping in and lacing up, Shirou found them rather comfortable. After thanking the Irish woman as much as he could, the two settled in for the multi-stop, half-day flight. If the estimate was correct, they would arrive around one in the morning at the local time, so getting some rest would be important so they wouldn't miss a day.

… … …

… … …

The two landed in an absolute downpour. Rain was falling in such an extreme amount that the entire airport looked like more of a lake than a place for aircraft. Even though it fascinated Shirou, Bazett claimed that it was a regular occurrence in the UK. Before leaving the dry safety of the plane, they made a quick action plan to sprint toward the rented vehicle in the airport parking lot.

Sprinting across the airstrip with their bags held over their heads, the two were soaked within the first few seconds. When they reached the car, both of them were absolutely drenched in frigid rain. Turning the car on to get some heat, Bazett shivered and gripped the wheel tightly. "After living here for twenty-one years you'd think I'd remember to bring a damned umbrella," the woman huffed, throwing strands of sopping burgundy hair from her face.

Shirou was just trying not to freeze. That rain was ice cold and wearing skin-tight spandex made it that much worse. Rubbing his arms, he began shivering autonomously.

Bazett began driving to London within a few minutes, just enough for the car engine and interior heat up. Like they had in Japan, they had utilized a lesser known airport so their journey couldn't be tracked as easily. Shirou wondered why Bazett drove on the left side of the road. As far as he knew, everywhere besides Japan drove on the right. Bazett assured him that this was correct and that Britain also operated backwards. Confused, Shirou put his faith in the woman and assumed she knew better than him.

Within the hour, the bright lights and foreign architecture of London was all around him. He couldn't say it was ugly. It had a certain, simplistic, utilitarian aspect that he found endearing. The cold stone walls with white trim were monotonous and imposing but there was a deep sense of architectural pride within regardless. As they drove further into the city, the dated architecture broke away into more modern chic. London was almost orb shaped, with a large crack in the form of a river splitting the city and leading into the sea. The River Thames sat just off the road, close enough that Shirou could see the brightly illuminated bridges spanning the waterway. He had passed a couple of these bridges now and each one was beautifully designed in Victorian style. These bridges were masterful works of art when compared to the child-like drawings of the residential buildings seen on his way in. If Shirou's estimations were correct, they were in the part of London known as Kensington.

"Thankfully, the Clock Tower doesn't sleep so we'll be able to get you admitted and dry these clothes. Well, I'll be able to dry my clothes anyway. You can just project your outfit."

Shirou turned his head, giving her a strange look. "You're coming in with me? Won't that make you some sort of fugitive if I ever get found out?"

Bazett shrugged, keeping her eyes concentrated on driving. "You're not the only one who has a disguise. While mine isn't quite as fancy, I'll only have to wear it on occasion." Settling his head on the window of the car, Shirou spotted the looming sight of the Clock Tower in the distance. A large tower with an eerily illuminated clock face. Bazett turned the corner and the prestigious looking parliamentary-like facade came into view.

This would be where he lived for the next couple of months, it seemed like it would be hard to get around. The grandeur made Shirou feel rather insignificant and the sheer scale already seemed overwhelming. At such an hour, the student parking lot was empty so finding a spot close to the entrance wasn't difficult.

Pulling into place and shutting the vehicle off, Bazett turned to him and offered the barest hint of a smirk. "Welcome to the Clock Tower, kid. Try not to get yourself blown up."

* * *

 **Howdy all, sort of an important note this time so rather than skip it, take a few seconds to read it or skim over it.**

 **I'll be taking a little break from writing.**

 **Now that I've got your attention, yes, I'll be going on a brief hiatus of a week or so, mostly just so that I can recompile my thoughts and rejuvenate my passion for writing the fic again. I've been having a lot of difficulty in just trying to formulate my thoughts so a little break might be all that I need. I'm also pausing to give a rest to my Beta, as they are being constantly tied up with their own real-life things and after going through a hundred thousand words, they deserve the respite.**

 **I'm NOT abandoning the story, I'll come back to it - but there might be a period of two or even three weeks before the next chapter comes up.**

 **So to all of you, hope you enjoy things so far and if you have any complaints or words of inspiration, you're more than welcome to message me privately to let me know or make a review to have your opinion be public!**

 **As always, favourite, follow and leave a review if you wish!**


	15. Partners in Crime

**EDIT:** **The cost to buy a small apartment in New York City is greater than the cost to buy a large castle in France, can you believe that? In fact, some countries are willing to _give away_ castles so long as you sign a contract stating you will preserve or renovate it at a point in the future. Not within a specific time frame, but just whenever you have the chance or whatever. Weird, huh?**

 **Hey guys! I'll work under the assumption that you all are welcoming me back so that's nice of you all. I have a little bit to talk about and a good chunk of it is just fluff so if you want to skip and get to reading, it wouldn't hurt my feelings. :)**

 **I took some time to have a break, relax, get my school stuff together and rewatch the source material. I'm feeling a lot better about writing and I think I can get some good stuff out in the future.**

 **A couple of my reviews, while I can't really consider negative or positive, have pointed out some supposed inaccuracies with my writing. After reading them all so far, I can say that they don't** ** _really_** **have any grounds. I've been extremely careful to follow the source to a T, only adding my own features or explanations when the wiki/source are found lacking in definitive details. So far, the only major piece of information I have added was regarding werewolves.**

 **Moving on from that, there was a lot of reviews left for Chapter 14 and I was excited to see so many people enjoying my work and letting it be known!**

 **There was one strange review that suggested I create a P atreon. Now before any of you begin to panic, I _will not_ be making a P atreon. Not only do I not want to bother setting up benefits or such, but I also don't want anyone getting a "sneak-peak" just because they might have a little more income than the next person. I think it's wrong, and I want everyone to enjoy my writing without the looming threat of a pay-wall. So rest assured, Fate: Unbalanced Scales will be 100% free unless Ufotable buys me out or something. (But I guess they could just steal my ideas without paying a cent since this is technically 100% their property.) Speaking of, I'm pretty sure that making a P atreon to fund fanfiction writing is copyright infringement.**

 **That being said, and don't take this the wrong way (I am a broke college student after all), if any of you readers are willing to donate some of your hard-earned simoleons, you're more than welcome to private message me and we can carry on from there. This will be the only time I _ever_ mention this as it was relevant to the review, there's no point beating a dead horse or seeming like I'm trying to shove it down your throats. To keep things legal: All/any donations offered would be to assist me in a trying time, not to incentivize me to write or pay me for fanfiction-related services. All characters, ideas and such belong to whoever owns rights to the Nasuverse, not me.**

 **I hope you all enjoy this next chapter and the introduction of new characters!**

* * *

As Shirou had received a letter of recommendation from the Archibald's head, he was offered a dormitory with little more than a statement of his name. Octavia, a bubbly receptionist who constantly held a forced smile, had given him a key with a small "6C" stamped into the metal. Octavia hadn't even seem fazed with his assassin-like attire or the fact that he was drenched with rain.

Or the fact that a black-cloak wearing individual was being led along by his hand. The "disguise" Bazett decided on couldn't have been more suspicious. A ridiculously long, flowing cloak that concealed every possible inch of her appearance. Shirou couldn't help but feel like some sort of lame fantasy character. He was the assassin helping a princess escape her family because she wanted to see the outside world or something equally as stupid. Shirou was unnerved that Octavia _hadn't_ said anything. If this scenario wasn't enough, what would it take for her to speak up about something?

Closing the door to his room, Bazett threw off her cloak and almost immediately began disrobing. Shirou had thought she would stop after removing the outer coat of her suit, but when she began unbuttoning her shirt, he quickly realized what was going on. "What do you think you're doing?" Shirou shouted, turning his head and holding up his hands to cover his eyes.

"I'm getting out of these wet clothes, having a shower and putting on fresh stuff," the Irish woman explained casually like she hadn't just started taking off her clothes in front of him. "Get over yourself, I'm not getting naked," she huffed. The sound of wet clothing hitting the floor, as well as a "tsk", preceded the closing of a door.

Peeking through his fingers, Shirou found that Bazett had gone into the bathroom, but had left most of her clothing on the floor like an animal. Turning to face the bathroom door, Shirou shouted to the other side. "Can't you at least pick up your dirty clothes?"

A sharp laugh returned. "That's your job, now figure out what we're going to eat, would ya?" Shirou wanted to respond, but the sound of running water cut him off.

"Get your own food for once." Grumbling, Shirou picked up her dropped articles between two fingers and moved them into what he assumed was a hamper. Closing the lid after he was finished, Shirou got a firm grasp of his room.

If his estimation skills were up to par, Shirou would put the room around one-hundred and fifty square feet, quite large considering Shirou's room back in Japan was a little under two thirds that. It was rectangular shaped, with the far corner nestled back into the wall. Just to the right of the entrance was a doorway to the bathroom which Bazett had gone through just moments prior. A single-wide bed was nestled in the recessed corner, with a large corner desk just across from it. Along the wall opposite the bathroom, sat a small wooden dresser and the aforementioned hamper was right beside it.

The room was actually more than Shirou was expecting. There was more than enough here for him to live comfortably. Deciding to get a jump on things, Shirou reached underneath his vest to withdraw the booklet he had received from Octavia.

Quite a lot of information was packed inside. A description of the magecraft divisions with brief overviews of all twelve general classes one could participate in, as well as Clock Tower staff members. Shirou hardly cared enough to remember any of the dozen other people inside, but he took a decent amount of time to remember one "Lorelei Barthomeloi." If her picture was any indication, Kiritsugu had been right about the Vice Director. Her eyes, face and even her body language spoke of cold detachment. It was like she was eternally angry or dissatisfied with everything going on around her.

At the Clock Tower, classes weren't assigned or mandated. Magi simply attended whichever classes they wanted. This system was thought to be better due to the odd hours and specialized nature of many magi. The only class with enforced attendance was General Fundamentals, which would need to be taken for five years before it could be dropped. Classes operated differently than any school he was used to. Magi selected a broad division to join, then specialized into a specific field after receiving a teacher's recommendation. Only then could a magus begin researching their desired field with school resources rather than being forced into the broader subject and reliant on their own finances. Something else which was uncommon anywhere else, was the strange jump-in, jump-out nature of classes. While magi were known to simply vanish for months at a time, they were expected to know everything that might have been missed were they to return. The divisions likely had schedules to be followed, but how they worked or how new students were expected to learn previous material was beyond him.

Shirou only hoped that he wasn't expected to be able to cast the spells being taught. While he could study and retain a considerable amount of information, he couldn't put any of it into practical use. Although, hoping for a test without being required to demonstrate was purely wishful thinking. Why _wouldn't_ they want a display of knowledge?

Other classes which interested him were those of Mineralogy, Modern Magecraft Theories and a division simply called "Creation." Apparently, if he wanted the schedules to each, he would need to visit Octavia again. A brief scan of the room revealed a small clock on the corner desk. It was two in the morning, far from any reasonable hour.

That didn't mean he couldn't explore outside his room of course. Leaving Bazett to her shower, Shirou slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Outside was nothing more than a long hallway. At the far end, Shirou could see it split off to the left and right, likely leading to more rooms or a stairway to the next level. Gritting his teeth and preparing his mind, Shirou activated his circuits and laid one hand against the wall. "Trace on!"

Like an architect sketching a plan in his mind, the wireframe of the building slowly developed itself from the ground up, revealing the layout of the building as well as which rooms were occupied. Three floors with a basement that was unexpectedly large. After a few seconds, once the wireframe had been established, Shirou removed his hand and looked his blueprints over for a second.

Tracing made it near impossible to lose his way. Wherever he was, he could simply trace the basic structure and make a map which would be stored eternally in his brain. Shirou would have put Theseus to shame. Navigating the labyrinth of the Minotaur would have been child's play. The main grounds of the Clock Tower were set within the Imperial College. Much of the framework and foundation had been erected centuries ago. The exterior, however, had been revamped and retrofitted. The college itself was nothing more than a front for magi to explain their presence to normal humans. Inside, magecraft was the only topic of conversation. From the tracing, an extensive underground complex revealed itself. The underground portion spanned from beneath the Imperial College and the Museum of Natural History with the Queen's tower nestled between them both. There were several rooms throughout the underground which were hidden by bounded fields which ranged in quality. The only bounded field above ground was within the Queen's Tower. They were compartmentalized segments but they extended from the bottom to the top. If Shirou had to bet, he would put money on the Queen's Tower being the office space of Lords or extremely prestigious magus families.

All at once, his circuits cut off and Shirou idly ambled back to his room. Stepping back in and relocking the door, the first thing he noticed was the lack of shower noise. The second was the lavender towel hanging halfway out of the hamper and the third, was the sight of burgundy hair lying on _his_ pillow.

Grumbling sourly, the boy sidled up to the bed to glare down at the woman within. She was awake although she was about to pass out, that much he could tell. "I'm tired, I didn't get much sleep on that plane and I had none in Fuyuki. Just let me sleep for a few hours, then we can go see London alright?"

Wordlessly, Shirou sighed and turned around to leave. It was Saturday, which meant classes wouldn't begin for another two days. He would need help getting around London from Bazett, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to explore more of the Clock Tower. Maybe he would even make some friends or find someone to waste time with. Shirou wasn't used to so much free time, so he began considering improbable ways to spend it. Amidst his preposterous scenario creating, something reasonable came to mind. Even though it was late, he could set up the classes he wanted to attend with Octavia and prepare for the coming week. He might even be able to speak with Lord El-Melloi and see what he recommended.

Octavia would still be awake regardless of the time, he supposed, so he would get his class schedules first. Shirou slipped out of his room and quietly closed the door behind him. He turned quickly on his heels and ran face first into someone.

Only because he was both taller and heavier than the other person did he manage to remain standing. The individual bouncing off his chest had to take a half second to adjust their footing, but they were soon parted and glaring at him with unhidden anger. As his eyes landed on theirs, Shirou briefly wondered how Bazett had snuck out of the room ahead of him. Then he realized that their eyes were much lighter than Bazett's and that this was an entirely new person.

It was a woman, plain as day. Around his age, if he was any good at estimation. Her face was sharp and defined. Not near as diamond-cut as Rin, but certainly enough to remind him of the Tohsaka. Bright, golden hair flowed gracefully from around her head, gradually becoming a deeper shade of blonde as the strands ended in large coils. There were royal blue bows in her hair near the back of her head which served as another reminder of Rin. While a different colour, the Tohsaka tied her hair up in a similar fashion.

This woman's entire form of dress was this same royal blue throughout. The dress demanded attention and spoke of only one thing: wealth. Fine fabrics neatly ironed and well maintained with frilly white pieces accenting the overall image. At the hips, the dress broke into a much finer fabric which flowed like running water. A dress of this quality was easily a couple thousand dollars, a fact which immediately made him worry.

As Shirou began apologizing, the woman's face softened and the look that came into her eyes scared him. Unexpectedly, she seemed to disregard the entire incident with a question. "I haven't seen you here before, are you new?" The British accent was refined with a lilting quality. It was similar to the enforcer he'd killed, Elizabeth.

The question caught Shirou off guard. Who asked something so casual immediately after bumping into someone? He blinked in stunned silence before clearing his throat and adjusting the cape on his shoulders. "Something like that."

The mischievous smile which spread across her face dropped Shirou's stomach into his boots. "Then you don't know any of our rules. Around here, if you bump into another magus you have to offer a form of _compensation_."

He didn't like the sound of that one bit. Swallowing nervously, he narrowed his eyes to appear threatening. Thank God for the scarf concealing his emotions. "What sort of compensation?"

The woman seemed to shrink in place, likely his gaze having the intended effect. "The unspoken rule of the Clock Tower says that if a magus doesn't offer something immediately after inconveniencing another magus, the choice of compensation goes to the victim - me in this case." She lifted one hand to gently lie under her neck, closing her eyes like she was a treasured artifact.

Shirou repressed a groan. Why was every woman in his life absolutely insane? "What sort of compensation did you have in mind then, Miss…"

"Edelfelt, Luviagelita Edelfelt." His worst nightmare had been made a reality. One of the few families he had expressly been told to stay away from had met him his first day in the middle of the night. If Shirou were a servant, he'd be Lancer - the class with the absolute worst luck. The woman gracefully pushed her hand toward him. Shirou was unsure of whether she wanted to shake his hand or if she was gesturing for him to kiss her hand from the awkward angle. "And you might be?" He didn't even consider the second as an option, gently gripping her hand for a shake only to be surprised as she squeezed with the strength of a burly man.

Repressing a noise, Shirou tried to balance the handshake with his own grip. "You can call me Blade, it's a pleasure to meet you." His only option to escape this was to be polite, yet uninteresting enough that she wouldn't want to continue the conversation.

Luviagelita made a noise of intrigue, dull red eyes sparkling in wonder. Well, the plan of being uninteresting had already flown straight out the window. "A magus who goes by a cover name? You must have some sort of bloody ledge about you."

Shirou blinked. English lessons with Kiritsugu never prepared him for something like _this_. "I'm sorry?"

It seemed like the girl noticed his accent for the first time then, smile growing wider. "A foreigner too. You're a real international man of mystery."

He gave an awkward laugh, stepping partly to the side. "I suppose so. Well, you must be tired at such a late hour so-"

He got to the side of her before being grabbed at the wrist. "Now just one second, aren't you forgetting something?" He turned his head to find her giving him a sharp glare. "You still owe me a form of compensation, don't think that I've forgotten. You tried to distract me with your mysterious backstory, but it won't work on me." She paused, eying him up and down like a choice steak. Reflexively, Shirou actually stood a little taller but felt awkward at the same moment. Why was his body instinctively trying to impress her? She hummed in self-debate, making a concluding noise with an eerie smile. "You're going to be my lackey for the next few weeks. That shall be your compensation."

Shirou scrunched up his face behind the scarf, had he heard her right? "A lackey? What, you want me to be a servant for you?" The woman nodded righteously, placing her fists on her hips as if challenging him to fight the matter.

His experience had shown him that arguing with women like this would only start a battle. Since he wouldn't put effort into fighting his own friends, he usually wound up losing as well. He grumbled, eyes darting down the hall. He could make a run for it, sure, but how fast was this woman - and did he really want a potential enemy already? "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"

Her face soured like he had asked the stupidest question she had ever heard. "This is the Clock Tower, spells keep us awake for days at a time so we can continually study. Where have you been living, under a rock?"

Shirou grumbled and weighed his options once more, giving the woman an apprehensive stare. "Fine, one week. Can I grab the schedules for my classes first?" Luviagelita stepped to the side motioned with her hand for him to lead. He graciously took the time to be out of eyesight. How did he always manage to get himself in the worst positions possible at all times?

He wouldn't be surprised if homunculi began pouring through the doors looking for him at this point. Moving to the receptionist desk, Octavia's artificially joyous face greeted him. She was a rather good looking woman for her age. Mid-thirties with simple brown hair flowing down around an average figure. She wore black slacks and an open coat of the same colour with a deep ultramarine shirt below. Her fingers were adorned with banded rings, each laden with intricate inscriptions. Around her neck was a golden chain with a small emerald set as a pendant. Hanging off her ear were chime-like golden fixtures which reflected the artificial lighting above. Shirou had traced her upon arriving and discovered each piece of jewelry to be a conceptual weapon of sorts. Simply channelling mana through them would activate a spell, spells which could be combined to create a stronger, blended attack. The first person he'd encountered in Britain had already given his arsenal a considerable boost in power. There were four rings in total and each held a respective element, in this case, they were earth, fire, wind and water. The necklace operated the fifth element, ether. Unlike the rings, it couldn't be operated alone and acted more as a conduit for an ultimate attack than a true offensive device. The earrings were just earrings, not everything had to be a magical weapon.

Before he could say why he had returned, she clued in and began moving. "Ah, hello again. You'll likely want schedules for the classes you're interested in, yes?" With practiced ease, the woman rolled her chair over to a filing cabinet and flung open the bottom drawer. "You'll need fundamentals, but has anything else caught your eye?"

Stunned at the seamless nature of it all, Shirou stumbled partly before gathering his thoughts. "Mineralogy, Modern Magecraft Theories and Creation for now," he recited. Octavia nodded in agreement, thumbing through files to find whatever she was looking for.

In the meantime, Luviagelita sidled up beside him and offered a whisper. "You and I will probably be in the same Modern Magecraft class, you'll get to carry my books since you hurt my arms by bumping into me," the girl mockingly held her elbow as if it were in pain.

"Interesting, very interesting," the receptionist hummed, withdrawing four laminated sheets from various folders. "That's quite a spread. Most magi only choose one or two other fields." As Octavia turned around to face him, her eyes landed on the Edelfelt girl. Shirou watched as her face flickered from the artificial smile to surprise, then anger before returning to that cheap grin. "Well then, it didn't take long for you to sink your claws into him, _Luvia_."

Shirou felt a wave of heat from beside him and he could hear a low growling. The two were staring one another down wordlessly. There was a three-second silence which made the tension so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. Octavia decided to break it by handing him the schedule sheets with a genuine smirk. As his fingers gripped the surface, he found the receptionist still holding firm. "How did she get you, bump into you and ask for compensation?"

Pulling a little harder to claim the sheets, his eyes flickered between the two. "So she does this often?"

Octavia snorted. "To every poor new guy who wanders helplessly into her path. I really should have warned you with her being in the same dorm block as you, but the thought entirely skipped my mind." Octavia looked toward the woman in blue, clicking her tongue. "Just don't break this one, he seems nice." A feeling of dread formed a pit in his stomach. What was that supposed to mean?

"Mind your own business, Octavia! Now if you'll excuse us, I'm going to show Blade around so he knows where to go." The regal woman turned on her heel and began moving away until Octavia made a noise which halted her.

"Where did that other woman who was with you get off to, Blade?" The malicious smile which rolled across the receptionist's face betrayed her true intentions with the question.

Feeling a pair of eyes staring at the back of his head, Shirou narrowed his own in silent condemnation. Why did his life have to be so hard? "She left soon after I arrived. She's a long time family friend and she drove me in from the airport."

"Well, that's _interesting_. I don't remember anyone leaving recently. You needed help finding a big glowing tower in the middle of Kensington?" The evil which played across the woman's features reminded him of Illya when she hatched one of her ploys.

"So you're not alone, you're already with someone?" came the accusing question of Luvia. The strange wording almost made it sound like Shirou was _dating_ Bazett and that thought brought a whole new realm of revulsion into the situation. While Bazett was only twenty-one, she seemed to much older and to be honest, Shirou was a little scared of her.

Waving his hands in front of him, he hastily worked on denying the allegations. "We're _not_ dating, she's just a friend and she'll be leaving soon."

"If she's just your friend why were you holding her hand?" Octavia asked, leaning toward the desk with her chin nestled atop her knuckles.

Why was he justifying his actions to people he just met? "She was wearing a big cloak, she couldn't see out of the thing so I had to guide her!"

"You're getting awfully heated for such a simple misunderstanding then," Octavia casually remarked, smile growing wider as the frustration began to reach his eyes. This woman was a masterful manipulator, operating on a level twice that of Illya and Rin combined. She had him pegged and had been toying with him since the conversation began.

Maintaining a glower, Shirou let a sharp breath out of his nose to gather his composure. "I am merely frustrated at my interactions being questioned."

"You shouldn't be frustrated if you have nothing to hide."

"While true, I can find frustration in having to justify my every move." His eyes were set sharp, glaring daggers at the woman as the argument grew more and more heated.

She seemed to pause, a minor defeat on her end in the grand scheme of things. Deciding to cut her losses, the woman leaned back in her chair. "I suppose so. Well, I have no doubts Luvia would like to drag you around the Clock Tower or start experimenting on you." As easily as the debate had been started, Octavia ended it with a smile.

A tugging on his cape directed him away. Luvia was dragging him along by the fingertips. Only when they were out of earshot did she speak. "I should have warned you about Octavia. She really likes breaking into people's skulls. She's done it at least once to everyone here so don't feel bad."

Shirou looked back to the desk, noticing he was being led away from his dorms. "Are all the magi here like you two?" he mumbled.

"Only most of us."

… … …

… … …

Luvia was an interesting girl. For being part of a magus family he was supposed to beware, she didn't seem terribly dangerous. The girl was a little too refined for how eccentric she was, but Shirou pitted that up to loneliness. She had an obvious lack of friends within the Tower and a girl her age was likely dying for interaction. He only hoped she wasn't looking for a more _involved_ form of interaction from him. He had enough problems with women back home, he didn't need someone fighting over him in Britain as well. During one of their conversations, Shirou discovered that she was seventeen, a full year older than he was. He hadn't given her his own age, but she placed her guess around eighteen, a compliment if he had anything to say about it. Through the early morning, Shirou had done a lot more listening than talking as to keep his identity as obscure as possible. It certainly hadn't stopped the girl from trying to wrench every ounce of information from him.

"Oh come on, just one little look under that scarf-"

With a snapping motion, Shirou gripped the wrist of a hand near his face. "I said no, Luvia." Throwing it away half-heartedly, Shirou continued walking down the hall. Sunlight was beginning to peek through the windows and illuminate the building with a warm, natural glow. Mornings were always so tranquil to him. Seeing the rays of sun dance across the ground and warm the air was a secret pastime of his.

The girl pouted, whined his name and danced around to stand in front of him like a defiant child. With her obstructing his path, he was forced to stop, offering little more than a steady glare. "Just one little look, please? What, are you so ugly under there that you don't want to scar my poor eyes?"

"Yes," Shirou levelled, watching the girl deflate.

"Such a brute. What would it take to get you to show me?" For a girl who looked the part of royalty, she was far less mature than Rin. Even her body motions were childish, squirming in place in a vain attempt at being cutesy or expressive.

He snorted at the prospect of a girl begging to see his face. Sarcastically, he spoke the first thing that came to mind. "Win a tournament in my honour."

"The Magus Tournament?"

Shirou felt the blood drain from his face, had he just screwed himself? "The what now?"

The mischievous smirk that spread across Luvia's face didn't help his odds. "The upcoming tournament where aspiring magi duel in a ring for the Clock Tower's amusement. A little barbaric, but a good way to build experience regardless. I had already planned on signing up and winning so getting a look at whatever you're hiding as well would just be aces."

A tournament of magi fighting one another? That had the chance to be an incredible resource for Shirou. Even if he couldn't beat all the other magi and win, just being able to spectate would expand his repertoire of weaponry. "Who said anything about letting you see my face if you won?"

"You did, just now," she pointed out, tilting her head and raising one eyebrow. "So that's the challenge then." Before Shirou could fully comprehend the stupidity he was forced to hear, Luvia looked toward a clock on the wall. "Seven in the morning? I should really get back to work, catch you later, Blade!"

Shirou held his tongue, watching her jog off down the hall. While he bad his complaints about their supposed "deal", he didn't want to deal with her any more than he already had. When she was out of range, he let out a sigh and lowered his shoulders. She hadn't exactly told him when or where they would meet again, but she already knew where his dorm was. Chances were that she would be waiting for him outside his room one day, possibly with a leash and collar.

He thought over the prospect of this "Magus Tournament". On the surface, it seemed to be little more than a pissing contest for every magus who could use a spell. Underneath the first layer however, Shirou could see the possible benefits. While he didn't know what the prize for first place was, it must have been enticing enough for magi to risk their lives fighting one another.

Come to think of it, what sort of safety regulations were in place to prevent one magus from "accidentally" killing another? Such a possibility was very real. From what Rin had told him, the Clock Tower operated solely on reputation and prestige. The more powerful a magus - be that power through money, fame or magical prowess - the further they went in their respective fields. Killing another magus just to progress that tiny inch further was entirely within the scope of possibilities. The thought of someone murdering another purely for reputation or personal gain sickened Shirou to his core. His mind was settled then. He would enter the tournament; if only to prevent any possible casualties. Opening the blueprint of the school in his mind, Shirou turned and began walking back to his dorm. Maybe Bazett would be awake by now.

… … …

She wasn't, but at least she was willing to get up. Drearily sitting in his bed with the sheet wrapped around her like a robe, she made a grumble and motioned with her hand toward her suitcase.

Trying to guess what she wanted, Shirou opened her bag and withdrew a fresh burgundy suit. Did she have multiple copies of these that she just changed out when they got damaged or dirty? Leaving the question in his mind, he threw the article toward the woman and turned his back so she could put it on.

"So, you meet anyone while you were out?' The sound of shuffling fabric broke up her words, little noises of fatigued effort coming through as well.

"One of the few people my old man told me to stay away from."

"Oh? You've met the Vice-director already? Surprised you're alive." Shirou shook his head but upon realizing that she likely hadn't seen that, he spoke his disagreement as well.

"Another student, Luviagelita Edelfelt."

"I've heard of the Edelfelt family before. They're a decently old lineage who kill for the highest bidder, sort of like what your father was doing for a while there." A rush of inexplicable anger flowed through him.

He wanted to speak up, to shout at Bazett and tell her she had misunderstood the man, but there was no point. Trying to explain Kiritsugu's motives through anger in such a short amount of time would only confuse her. Clenching his glove-clad hands and grinding his teeth, Shirou forced the urge away. Normally, a slight against his father rolled off his back, but the words coming from someone he knew, someone who personally knew the old man, infuriated him. Only, that wasn't the real cause for his emotions. For reasons he couldn't explain that slight comment had infuriated him to levels mere words were unknown to do. For now, he simply focused on breathing.

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his calming trance. "I'll give you a brief show of the area around the Clock Tower before helping you navigate the tube. Get into some normal clothes and project that outfit so that I don't have to walk around in a cloak all day."

Shirou let out a slow breath, feeling the anger within him subside. Thinking about his reaction, he realized just how uncommon such a thing was for him. "Once we're far enough away you can take it off and nobody should recognize you." Bazett paused, narrowing her eyes as she peered into his own. "Hopefully your eyes don't change anymore, otherwise you're going to have to wear contacts to avoid being recognized."

Shirou stiffened, eyes in question widening. " _Anymore_?" he asked, scrambling toward the bathroom to look in the mirror. Leaning forward over the sink, he examined his face. His eyes had changed greatly since he last studied them. No longer were they bright flaming orange with disjointed specks of silver. It was still difficult to see, but the former bright orange was a darker shade than he remembered and the rim of his iris was lined with cold, steely gray.

"Jesus kid, don't have an aneurysm. Your eyes change a little when you get older, so what?" Bazett shrugged, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. Shirou spared her a glance, cautiously returning his gaze to the mirror as if he was unfamiliar with who he was looking at. "If it's really a major problem and you don't want contacts, I could put some runes in that scarf of yours that will change your eye colour for you."

He pawed at his face with a grumble, tugging down and up at his eyes as if there was an eyelash caught within. "If you could do magecraft like that, why didn't we just magically hide my face?"

"Using magecraft to hide your face while surrounded by mages a hundred times more powerful than your own, inept self?" Bazett laid out blandly, folding her arms across her chest and closing her eyes solemnly. "That's the smartest idea I've ever heard." Her tone was enough to make Shirou's own throat dry. "Better to _look_ like an idiot rather than actually _be_ one you know." Pushing off the door with her shoulder, the woman rolled her arm and nodded toward the door. "If you're finished worrying about what you look like to your girlfriends, we can get going."

… … …

… … …

Ten hours later, Shirou collapsed on a bed in pure exhaustion. Not only had he been awake for a little over sixteen hours, but he had also gone through a fierce bout of training with the Irish woman herself. Bazett had first taken him an hour away, then darted off into an alleyway and threw off the cloak before commanding him to dematerialize his own suit. He had only brought the real scarf along so Bazett could add the disguise-type runes she had mentioned earlier.

Luckily, It was a beautiful, clear sunny day. Bazett had commented on how they should take advantage of such uncommon weather, especially since the forecast pictured no other days better than partly cloudy for next week.

Shirou had visited every major landmark across London, either walking there directly or making use of the tube. Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Big Ben, London's Eye, both the London and Tower bridges and even The Shard. The extensive underground railroad system baffled Shirou to start, but after looking over the traced map in his head for a while, he had a decent understanding. Even Bazett had difficulties navigating the area and she had supposedly lived here for years, so his own lack of comprehension wasn't entirely unexpected.

He wasn't able to visit every corner of London, but he had most of the major districts laid out in his mind. What really astonished Shirou was the sheer scale and bustle of it all. There was so much distance to cover between important buildings and so many people milling about that it seemed like a miracle that _anything_ got done. Fuyuki wasn't a large town by any means, but it was enough to satisfy his needs. Though trying to compare Fuyuki to London was impossible. The difference in scale was awe-inspiring and constantly reminded him that the world had so much to be seen. While Shirou enjoyed his humble, monotonous home town, he could still enjoy a massive city like this. He admired the variation in buildings and the crisp, clean look of the roadways. It was almost like every inch of road was freshly laid. Deep, crisp black with bright yellow, red and white lines painted on top. It made the architecture around stand out and told him that maintenance was high on the list of priorities.

After his bout of tourism, Bazett brought him back to her own bought-and-paid-for home. She casually mentioned that Kiritsugu's payment for his training had been a major contributor in the actual purchase, leading Shirou to wonder just how much money the old man had given her. It was a small thing that could barely fit a single person but Bazett herself said it was more than enough. What brought value to the home was the large training room downstairs. It was large enough for four people to fight comfortably and the perimeter had been enforced with bounded fields to prevent the nasty problems and side effects associated with magecraft, namely expensive repairs.

His first real spar since the enforcer incident had taken place and he had been wiped across every surface. Bazett was no longer holding back _anything_. Her speed, power and technique were all operating with an unbidden intent to kill. Shirou was instantly reminded of the fight he had watched between her and his father. Their seamless motions cancelling one another out, every attack releasing an explosive amount of magical energy.

Shirou had definitely not expected the increase in difficulty, and it showed. After his fourth rib was broken, they had taken a break. Avalon pieced the shattered bones back in place and they had re-engaged. After doing this two more times Shirou felt like he couldn't breathe, so their training was completed.

All of which led him to his current situation of being face-first in Bazett's pillow. With the disruption of the fabric, came a waft of scents. Earthy with an almost alcoholic undertone which featured root and spice notes like a finely crafted ale.

Inhaling deeply to calm his burning lungs, Shirou could almost feel his blood alcohol level rise. A weight near his side creaked the bed. "Oh come on, I've seen you break more bones than _that_ before giving up."

He turned his head to glare up at Bazett with a huff. "It's been weeks since I've had to train, I guess I've softened up a bit with all the downtime. Besides, I wasn't expecting a fight to the death when you asked me to _spar_."

A jabbing finger prodded at the soft flesh of his side, sending a jolt throughout his entire body. Making a noise of pain mixed with discomfort, the Irish woman hummed. "Figures that all the work I put into you would end up wasted by Elizabeth."

Thankful she only jabbed him once, Shirou slid one hand over his side to guard the spot. That was the second time she mentioned the enforcer by name. There must have been some history between the two for her to react in such a way. "You make it sound like Elizabeth messing with you was something common."

"It was," she shot back quickly. "Elizabeth was a thorn in my side ever since I met her at the Enforcer testing grounds at Norwich…"

… … …

… … …

… … …

"Bazett Fraga McRemitz," the young girl recited. The man ahead of her, one Isaac Jeeves, checked something off on his clipboard before offering a scrutinizing glance.

"Fraga? Interesting, did you leave the family willingly or were you exiled?" The glare of sunlight off his mirrored sunglasses was enough to make her squint. The emotion in his eyes might have been shrouded, but judging by his eyebrows she could see he wasn't really interested in her story either way. His appearance led Bazett to believe that he didn't care about much at all. Messy, brownish blond hair and unshaven, spotty facial hair. He wore a buttoned lab coat but based off its wrinkled state and unwashed appearance, he neglected that as well.

"Willingly, Sir."

"Hm, it's not often we see someone leave the family of their own volition, much less admit themselves as an enforcer. Come to think of it, I haven't heard the Fraga clan doing much of anything for the past century."

Bazett held her tongue, offering a sharp glare instead. He wanted her to spill details, explain her life story and try to exploit that as a weakness. Her mother had told her how manipulative magi could be, she wasn't falling for any of it. "I can't say that I know, Sir."

He hummed, one edge of his lips pulling off to the side. That hadn't been the response he'd expected. "You're number three." With a tap-tap of his pen on the board, he moved onto the next in line.

She didn't dare turn her head. Enforcer training was similar to the military in a sense. Each individual applicant was gauged by the effectiveness and willingness to follow orders. Stepping out of line or sticking her head above the grass would just cause trouble. There was so much to remember, so much to look out for. Maybe she _was_ too young to sign her life away to the Association. She was only sixteen, not even an adult technically. But being here felt right. Even if the odds of her finding and putting down her mother's murderer were impossibly low, the slightest possibility would still give her purpose.

"Elizabeth Velum," came an unnaturally sweet voice. On instinctive curiosity, Bazett turned her head with a parted mouth. The woman offering her name was a tiny thing who hardly looked strong enough to hold herself up let alone fight sealing designates. Although in the world of magecraft, things were never what they seemed. She was wearing what everyone else in line was, a skin-tight suit in deep blue with accents of faux gold. Almost symbolically, an ornate collar ran around the neck, wrists and ankles.

As Bazett should have expected, something hard and fast landed square in her stomach. Reeling over from the impact, Bazett couldn't even discern what had hit her. It hadn't been a fist, that she was sure of. One of the other instructors shouted out "Head forward McRemitz!"

A pair of hands gripped her by the shoulders from behind, hauling her winded, coughing form upright and forcing her to stand at attention.

Her body's natural reaction of haphazardly sucking oxygen blocked out her hearing momentarily, diverting all attention to breathing. When she regained her composure, she resumed standing tall and orderly as directed.

Like everyone else present, she had to wait until everyone was accounted for before today's test began. They were just outside Norwich, beside an abandoned RAF training field that had been battered and bruised by time. While the landscape was unkempt and disorderly, the equipment was still in useable. Several walls of varying size and composition, a barbed wire crawl, monkey bars set over an open ditch and every other minor component familiar to a boot camp.

Before she could even begin, they had to get through the minimal red tape and listen to the instructions of the course. The man in sunglasses stood some distance away, clipboard at his side as he looked between each of the prospective enforcers. "Each one of you will be running the course one after another. You have all been provided numbers I hope you remember and exactly fifteen seconds after the number ahead of you begins the course, you are to proceed through. Fifteen seconds exactly, waiting on any other member will result in penalization." He extended one arm and pointed toward the course. "You are _not_ to utilize magecraft or your abilities in this exercise, not even reinforcement. We have exercises later today which will test you in those areas." Facing forward, he nodded partly forward with his head. "Number one, get your ass moving, your timer has started."

There was a slight noise, then the sound of scrambling as a man of average build took off running toward the course. Unable to turn her head to watch, Bazett couldn't see how he was performing so she began counting the seconds in her mind instead. If she were number three, she would have to start in thirty seconds, regardless of when number two began.

The man on her right, number two most likely, was a large man who made her look like a dwarf. With arms and legs like tree trunks surrounding a barrel chest that heaved in exertion even though he was merely standing.

Fifteen seconds passed, and the brute beside her didn't move. Nineteen seconds passed before someone roughly shoved him forward. "All those muscles take up parts of your brain? Get fucking moving!" With some hesitation, the big man lumbered toward the course. As Bazett reached twenty-nine in her head, the muscles of her body tensed. As soon as "thirty" sounded off in her mind, she was sprinting to start the course.

… … …

The next day featured pouring rain and cold winds. The number of potential enforcers had halved since yesterday. Plenty of the members from the first trail yesterday had completed the course in abysmal times. Ironically, the larger applicants were often the ones to fail such a simple test.

They were in a new location, specifically a large stone plateau nestled on the top of a hill. It was hundreds of years old at least, with massive man-sized stones set into the dirt acting as pillars. There were four of these pillars, placed around the arena to form a square. Apparently, they would be fighting one another today to further reduce the applicants. From what little Bazett could gather during her approach to the lineup, several faces were missing. The large man, number two, was the most prominent absence. Settling into place, attendance was logged in similar fashion to yesterday.

Stating her name, Bazett idly listened to the names of those down the line, potential opponents. She had done some research into the people whose name she had managed to remember. To her direct left was a man named Klark Denver. He was a cryomancer, with a propensity to freeze his opponents solid before shattering them into glass-like shards. The next, a woman named Tyrant, was an aerotheurge who manipulated the very air to aid in physical combat.

The third in line spoke in that same eerily-sweet voice that had caught Bazett's attention yesterday, "Elizabeth Velum." Bazett consciously had to stop herself from turning her head, memory of the last time she had returning to her. Even after all the information gathering last night, Bazett had gotten nothing on this one woman in particular. She was a wildcard, an unknown variable that had to be carefully observed.

"These fights will determine your ability to react to unexpected assailants in the field. On missions hunting sealing designates, you can never be entirely sure what you will encounter. All of you are expected to put everything in these duels, holding anything back will be viewed as a weakness. Losing a fight here doesn't necessarily mean failure in the program, but that will be handled on a case-by-case." The one shouting over the rain had been the man from yesterday, still wearing his silly lab coat and sunglasses even though it was dark outside. He tapped on his board twice with the pen. "McRemitz," he began, sending a feeling of dread through her body. "Since you're so interested in one of our other applicants, you'll be going up against her first. Elizabeth Velum, step forward and take your position at the far end of the arena."

The sense of dread from earlier left her immediately. For one reason or another, Bazett had thought the man in sunglasses was about to chastise her for something she had done. Fighting was something that was familiar, so Bazett didn't feel all that nervous as she positioned herself at the edge of the arena. Elizabeth Velum, that sliver of a woman, sloshed out across from her and turned to offer a steely gaze. The Irish woman was taken aback by the contrasting appearance. She barely looked older than thirteen, but her eyes displayed cool confidence and experience that was something to be extremely wary of.

"Begin when read-" Like a bullet, the small woman shot forward before the man's words had even be finished. Bazett roughly snapped her body into a combat stance, barely able to get herself prepared before the first strike landed on her forearm.

A pugilist then? This was something she could handle. Feeling a rush of confidence, Bazett slipped into a trance of concentration, smoothly following and reflecting punches as if it were as natural as breathing. The two were pushing one another back and forth with dozens of strikes, eventually centering themselves in the arena while circling one another in place.

A sweep of the leg turned the petite girl around, putting her back to Bazett. The Irish woman hadn't been caught by the simple unbalancing move, but she had by the unexpected elbow to her stomach. On contact, a strange blast of magical energy sent her sliding backward along the waterlogged stone to the far edge of the arena. While she prevented the major effects of being winded by breathing out at the moment of impact, the pain still forced her to take a second to recover. The rush of battle surged through her, adrenaline pushing away the pain to hone her senses. The scent of rain seemed purer, the cold sting in the air fading away as the heat of her body started warming her from the inside out.

In their brief time apart, her opponent had reached up to her ears to remove some sort of strange earrings. In an instant, they became weapons of obscure origin. Shaking her head to throw some soaked hair from her face, Bazett paused to crack her knuckles. Thankfully, she'd had the foresight to apply runes to the training suit. Since she had all night yesterday to work on it, she had been able to accomplish quite a lot. While the suit wasn't perfect, it was decent enough for Bazett to be happy with it. Taking a few shaky steps forward, Bazett forced mana into the runes scrawled onto her outfit and prepared to fight blades with her bare hands. Without gloves, Bazett would be forced into striking the flats of each blade rather than striking the edge without care.

There was a copious amount of sloshing going on. With all the water pouring down, the stone plateau was a lake about an inch deep. Water was being flung in every direction and the only thing preventing her entire body from being soaked was the waterproof nature of the enforcer bodysuit. Above the sound of rain and sloshing water, screeching blades rang out over the plateau. With each ear-ringing noise, sparks of blue illuminated the dark area. Elizabeth was reinforcing her weapons as well, and each contact of the conflicting magecraft was progressively wearing both sides away.

The woman was much faster with two blades, almost skirting past Bazett's defences with each swing. On two particular occasions, she actually had. The blade barely skimmed her along the midsection but the brief contact was enough to slice the body suit open like a sausage link. The scar deposited on her body was nothing worse than a cat scratch, but the pain was equal to that of a paper cut.

Elizabeth might have been fast, her strength was a little bit lacking. Even though her blows were being enhanced with miniature blasts of mana, Bazett could easily overpower the small girl with a simple application of additional effort.

As if on command, more mana was drawn from Bazett's circuits to fuel the hungry runic inscriptions on each arm. Instead of merely countering the girl's weapons, her blades were being blown backwards as overwhelming strength completely disregarded the bursts of mana.

There was a gasp as a fist broke through her guard entirely, twisting her sword out of her grip. With the side of Elizabeth's blades carried on by her knuckles, Bazett slammed her fist into the girl's abdomen. Even partially absorbed by the sword, the impact was immense. Leaning over her first, Elizabeth violently coughed a few specks of blood onto Bazett's arm. The Irish woman couldn't help but smirk. She had made the first decisive strike and had proved herself to the Mage's Association that she was enforcer material.

Then something pierced her stomach.

Like a red-hot blade through warmed butter, the green and silver weapon pierced her straight through the midsection. The end jutting from her back was coated in fresh blood which was slowly being washed clean by the pouring rain.

Bazett had been stabbed several times, either by thugs or other magi. It was something she could almost consider familiar, although it failed to get any better regardless of how often it happened.

Just because she had been impaled, didn't mean she was out of the fight. Gritting her teeth and adorning a feral expression, Bazett wrapped her arm around the back of Elizabeth's neck, slipping her other hand around her waist. In one fluid motion, the Irish woman threw the smaller girl over her shoulder, slamming them bottom-first onto the ground. Uncoiling her body from her opponent, Bazett took two stumbling steps forward, hand shakily touching the blade stuck in her body. As painful as it was to have a two-foot long blade in her stomach, a gaping hole would only make things worse. Spinning on her heel, searing pinpricks shot through her midsection. Elizabeth had recovered as well, holding both hands over her stomach where Bazett had punched her. An attack of that calibre should have ruptured some of her more frail organs at least, how was she able to move around so freely?

Bazett's knee wobbled once, an indication of just how much the pain was affecting her. On determination alone, she willed the limb stiff and methodically moved forward. She started with a feint, deliberately missing a hook only to snap her body into place and rocket her elbow into the woman's face. Elizabeth caught on a second too late, taking the hit but lessening the damage by moving with the blow.

Bazett felt a hand brush against her midsection, likely a failed attempt at grabbing the handle of the blade. Before Elizabeth regained her balance, Bazett planted her feet, sucked in a breath, then gracefully slid forward to deliver a spinning side kick. As planned, her foot embedded itself in Elizabeth's midsection. Not as planned, the frail-looking woman _caught_ her leg. The blow would have been enough to launch her twenty feet outside of the ring, so how in the hell did this girl-

Bazett's mind was forced to stop thinking as the blade in her stomach was violently torn free. With a cry of pain, her body crumpled automatically. She landed awkwardly, with one leg being held high while the other was trapped beneath. The award angle left her half on her side, forced to use her trembling arm to support her weight.

Not one to give up, Bazett once again repressed the shout to stop from her mind. She hooked her untrapped leg between the smaller girl's feet and with a sharp motion, the smaller woman had one foot yanked forward. Rolling like some sort of crocodile, Bazett positioned the same leg to kick violently at Elizabeth's chest. The extreme unbalancing blow forced her to release Bazett's leg as she was thrown onto her back.

With the two women on the ground, they collectively scrambled to situate themselves to better handle the threat. Elizabeth was much faster at this, lunging onto Bazett's front and sending the Irish woman onto her back in the water once more. Positioning her arms and legs, her experience in grappling and wrestling took over and it wasn't long before her increased size, weight and strength were making itself readily apparent.

Then, two sneaky fingers jammed themselves into the gaping wound on her midsection. Like twisting a knife in a wound, Velum was abusing a pre-existing injury and its effectiveness was instantly noticeable. Through the cry of pain, Bazett's motions eased up and weakened. In seconds the grapple had turned from entirely one-sided to a total toss-up. A pair of legs had wrapped themselves around her neck, but Bazett's experience in grappling allowed her to get her own legs into a similar submission hold. Struggling to gather enough oxygen to finish the fight, the Irish woman peered down into the eyes of her opponent, finding stubborn determination as fierce as her own.

"I win."

… … …

Shirou blinked with his mouth parted in absolute attention. It was a long story, but Bazett's recounting had been captivating. He knew surprisingly little of her history, so brief glimpses into what made her the woman she was were little hidden gems. Bazett abruptly ended her retelling of the tale and turned her head to glance out of the window. Noticing that the sun had gone away while she was telling her story, she shuffled and stood into a stretch. "It's getting late kid, you should get on back to the Tower."

His mouth parted a little more. "You're going to leave the story on such a cliffhanger? But I still don't know why you hate Elizabeth so much, or who won the fight!" He felt teased and disappointed simultaneously, he didn't like it one bit.

The woman only laughed, shaking her head. "Sometimes the wait to see what's next is the best part kid, you'll realize that when you're older." Rolling her eyes at Shirou's gobsmacked expression, she clarified. "I'll continue where we left off whenever we've got a minute, now get the hell out of here so I can catch some sleep or get drunk, or both." Grumbling, he hoisted himself from her bed and projected his finely-crafted outfit. Turning his back to leave, she made a noise to catch his attention. "I'm going off the radar for a couple of days, gonna try to cover my tracks of where I've been and all that. If you really need me you can come here and I'll probably show up sometime."

He nodded, stepping toward the door as she laid down on the bed herself. "I guess I'll try not to die on my own."

"Atta-boy, think positive," she chided with a chuckle as he slipped out of the door.

… … ...

… … …

Shirou's first class started at eight in the morning. He had spent all of Sunday locked in his dorm, absently training with his projection magic. Since the day of the enforcer incident, the entire process had changed somehow. Trying to describe the change was impossible but it was no longer as simple as taking blueprints and making copies of them. What was also concerning, was the fact that his projections now featured gold _and_ blue sparks when appearing and dematerializing.

Something fundamental was changing within him, and it had been triggered by those damned words. "I am the bone of my sword," he murmured, turning Elizabeth's projected blade over in his hands. With some uncertainty, Shirou flicked on his circuits and gripped the handle of his projection tight. "I am the bone of my sword," he spoke calmly, words reverberating within his mind. From deep within - a place unseen - a pathway opened, the smell of hot steel flooded his nose and the distant clanging of forgework and crackling flame swam through his ears. Rin had informed him that this was a reality marble, that it was his inner world-altering the true world outside. It was a phenomenal form of magecraft bordering on true magic, but his version was incomplete. Rather than changing the world around him, he could only affect _himself_ inside the world. That was his running hypothesis at least. Whatever was inside his mind was trapped within his human body, and it wanted _out_. Testing this theory, Shirou dematerialized and remade the exact same blade. Rather than being a mix of gold and blue sparks, it was entirely blue. The particle effect itself had changed as well. The golden colour often looked just like grinding metal sparks, however, these blue particles were much softer, reminiscent of ice crystals in the middle of light fog.

Twisting the blade to settle against his wrist, he carefully slid the blade along his flesh, opening up a large gash from edge to edge. Although painful, the result _fascinated_ Shirou. Like some sort of chemical, the blood and flesh that was exposed to the air changed itself fundamentally into overlapping blades. While he had initially been terrified of the sight, Shirou realized that it was only because he was afraid of something so foreign. But with knowledge of its properties and a name, "sword-scale", it was significantly less threatening.

Every motion of the blades still hurt, and its ambient agony was similar to that of moving a sleeping appendage. Just like that night, every motion of the area sent stabbing pains through his body, and as the wound continued to ooze dark crimson blood, the lacerating feeling continued through his entire body. Tracing the fluid, he found that his red blood cells were actually becoming microscopic blades. It explained the full-body pain at least.

Over his brief times experimenting with the sword-scale, Shirou came to note some interesting points. The first was that regardless of how light contact might have been, it sliced everything apart. Clothes, weapons, even the parts of himself that were still flesh. The second was that it spread like cancer. After sustaining the first injury, it showed no signs of stopping until it consumed his entire body. While he hadn't really tested that theory, the night with the enforcer had been enough to assume as such. The third, and arguably most dangerous trait, occurred when he deactivated his circuits. When mana flow was removed, the sword-scale steadily shrank at a rate much slower than its spread. Rather than leave healthy flesh behind however, a mangled mess of what was essentially ground beef remained. While actually better for Avalon to heal, it proved near impossible to fully recover through conventional means. That reason alone was why Illya had such a difficult time reforming his leg, why she had nearly exhausted her mana reserves trying to fix him.

His circuits toggled off and the sword-scale began receding as if on command. Even with all these downsides, there were obvious benefits. Disregarding the myriad number of situations where such a condition might be helpful, activating his reality marble set the drain of his projections to a mere fraction of their normal cost. Normally, he could only project several dozen plain swords. With one line of this aria however, he could easily produce ten times that, although he had not been able to truly experiment. If the second line of his reality marble aria further decreased the cost was unknown. Shirou had been too nervous of what might happen were he to continue the aria.

As most of the sword-scale disappeared, a knock at his door set his heart jumping. He wasn't expecting any visitors, nobody was supposed to know where he was anyway. Who would-

"Blade, you're supposed to be catering to my every need!"

Of course it was her. He should never have expected to have a silent weekend alone in his own room. "Luvia I have class in an hour, can't it wait?" he called out, hastily projecting the scarf around his face. A tingling reached his eyes, an indication that Bazett's new runes were working as intended.

As he had half expected, the doorknob to his room rattled as a test to see if it was locked. "But that's exactly why I'm here. You've got General Fundamentals first, right? You get to carry all my books to class!" With what little time he had, he carefully wiped away the blood on his wrist and tugged up his sleeve to cover the self-inflicted wound. In the middle of his motions, the door clicked unlocked and swung open.

"Haven't you ever heard of respecting someone's privacy? What if I had been naked in here?" Shirou asked, standing upright and feigning anger. In reality, he had expected her to force her way in with magecraft.

"Then I would have accomplished two things at once," she shrugged, tossing her hair pompously with the back of her hand. "Now let's get going otherwise we're going to be late!"

… … …

Luvia had an obnoxious amount of books to carry. Thankfully, Shirou didn't have any of his own so he was open to hold everything she conned him into packing. By his order alone, they went to class early, if only because Shirou didn't want to end up late because of Luvia. Through the brief chat while they walked, Shirou learned that the girl only had two classes per day, half of what Shirou was taking.

After looking over his classes on Sunday, Shirou had planned out his days and determined that the only class that could have caused conflict was Creation. It had one class per day, so if it were missed, he was out of luck. The other class had two and sometimes three blocks he could attend at various times. This meant that his other courses more or less revolved around Creation. His decided schedule had General Fundamentals first, followed by Mineralogy and Creation before ending with Modern Magecraft Theories. Each class was two hours long and he had a one hour lunch after the first two classes.

The classroom for Fundamentals was empty, spare a heavy-set man lounging with his feet up on a wooden desk. If the soft snoring was any indication, he was sleeping. Shirou briefly paused to check the time on his cell phone, realizing it was still locked to Japan's time. With some quick math, Shirou deduced it to be seven forty-nine. With only ten minutes to class, he expected more magi to be milling about. Rather than disturb the instructor, Shirou calmly walked down the aisle to sit halfway up the left side of the lecture theatre. Perfect medication for his awkward situation. Sitting in either the back or front would draw too much attention. He settled Luvia's books down on the desk beside his selected seat and turned his head toward the entrance to watch her enter.

Rather than load himself down with a backpack or bookbag, Shirou had something much smarter in mind. Casually, he reached behind his back between the cape and his vest, projecting a simple paper notebook into his hand. In his honest opinion, this was the ultimate form of data storage: able to be generated and removed at will with the data recorded nowhere else besides his own mind. Withdrawing a pen from the coils, Shirou settled into his seat and got comfortable. Luvia gently slipped beside him, offering him a strange look before whispering. "It's not very often for magi to show up early. If anything we're usually late."

Shirou stretched with his arms languidly before shuffling to get comfortable in the cheap, rigid seat. "Well, I'm not like most magi. It also never hurts to be a little early to things. It gives you time to prepare."

Luvia made a partly aggravated hum, separating the large stack of books ahead of her so she could get a clear view of the teacher down at the center. "Most magi don't dress up like some sort of thief, so I guess you're right."

"Nice try at getting me to spill the reason," he offered blandly.

The girl groaned, rolling her eyes before looking at him directly. "What is it going to take to get you to tell me even the smallest thing?"

"More than you can afford." The girl made a huff, crossed her arms over her chest and faced forward. A few minutes passed in silence before curiosity got the better of Shirou. "So what are all those books even for?"

"I can't tell you."

He blinked, head twitching at the response. Immediately he clued into what she was doing. She isn't answering his questions because he wouldn't answer hers. For a woman who looked so royal, she was rather vengeful and childish. She was like Rin with the maturity of Illya. Humming, he decided to leave things there. Luvia wanted him to react. That way, she would know she was getting to him.

The two sat in silence until more people began filing into the room from both entrances. When the ambient sound reached the instructor, he lazily stirred, stretched and stood.

The instructor briefly panned the room, pulling a double take as he spotted Shirou near the side in the obscure get-up. He was a larger-than-average man and a quick trace revealed his precise measurements. Five feet, ten inches and two hundred thirty-four pounds. Residual nicotine clinging to his skin and short black hair revealed he was a smoker. He wore a neatly pressed, cream-coloured dress shirt and dark slacks which both strained to contain his girth. Shirou's trace revealed that if he were to put so much as five more pounds of force on the lowest shirt button, it would blow out like the cork of a champagne bottle.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but a student drew his attention away with a question Shirou couldn't quite pick out through the surrounding noise. As the room began to fill, Shirou noticed quite a few magi looking in his direction. He could only imagine how many of the whispers were about him. He leaned forward, concealing what little was left of his face and devoting his attention forward. The lack of comment by Luvia let him know he was getting the cold shoulder. Without much delay, the lesson began and Shirou prepared to write notes.

… … …

His notebook was blank. Not because there wasn't anything interesting taking place, but because he understood everything going on already. The subject they were going over, "manipulation of natural matter through magecraft", had already been taught to him by Rin.

Then again, this had been Fundamentals. "Placing" his notebook behind his back, he turned to Luvia, who hadn't opened her books once.

"What was the point of me carrying all these things if you weren't going to use them?"

The girl looked at him with parted lips before breaking into a smile. "I didn't need them for this class. I needed them for Modern Theories!"

Shirou felt his face go cold and flat. "The class six hours from now? You expect me to haul these things around for the whole day?"

She nodded ecstatically, abruptly standing and walking toward the aisle. "Don't forget alright? I'm counting on you, servant!" He called out to her as she left, but his only response was a laugh while bolting up the stairs. Grumbling, he stood and slid Luvia's books closer to the edge of the desk. The noise of someone clearing his throat sent his head in the same direction. Blocking his way to the aisle, was a tall man with messy blond hair and cold blue eyes. A cocky, angular face with defined, confident features. He wore blue jeans, clearly separated and defined with a brown leather belt. The orange dress shirt tucked into the waistband was unbuttoned halfway down, allowing the sparse beginnings of chest hair to poke through. He was a little taller than Shirou himself and a quick trace defined his height at a respectable six foot one. Weighing a touch over two hundred pounds, the man seemed to be built for bodybuilding rather than magecraft. "You know I've been dyin' to ask; what's with the getup? Gotta make class before you go off to kill someone?"

"Come to think of it, I've never seen someone like you in here before, you must be new." A girl with silver hair and matching eyes leaned over the row of chairs on his right, getting a little too close for comfort when her hand reached out to touch him.

Well, it was time to put this new look to the test. Mustering as much venom as he could, Shirou snorted in derision, batting away the woman's pawing hand with his own gloved one. "How would you know that's _not_ what I'm here for?" Sharpening his eyes like a predator, Shirou watched the blond man stiffen.

Then he broke into a boisterous laugh. "Quite the pair on this guy! Someone nobody's ever heard of walking in like he owns the place? Threatening us like he's some sort of killer no less." He continued laughing at the absurdity of what he just heard, getting a few chuckles from those around him, all of which had turned their attention on Shirou.

Clenching his hands into fists subconsciously, the hammer of a gun fired in his mind. He wasn't planning on doing anything exactly, but a little premature reinforcement never hurt anybody. "I've come to go to class just like the rest of you. How about we all get moving before we're late." Shirou maintained the sharp glare, keeping a watch on the others around him with his peripheral vision.

The blond man snorted once, left-hand clenching into a fist. "Didn't know they were letting foreigners into the Clock Tower as well. Must have been something special to let an Easterner like you in, so why don't you give us all a little sho-"

"Ayaan Turner!" came a shout from down the stairs. Everyone, including Shirou and the blond man, Ayaan. "Might I remind you that fighting within the Clock Tower classrooms is prohibited and that such an infraction would be your _third_ strike?"

Biting his tongue partly, he made a tsk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Guess you're right." Stepping backward into the aisle, the man nodded toward Shirou before climbing toward the exit. "We'll have to continue this some other time, killer."

When the man and the onlookers left, Shirou unclenched his fists and turned his circuits off. He offered a slight nodding bow toward the podgy instructor as a display of gratitude. "Just so you know, I cut in so I wouldn't have to write up paperwork explaining why my classroom was in ruins. Other instructors might not even be so kind as to do that," he mumbled as if sharing a deep resentment toward a specific instructor. Wordlessly, Shirou nodded in comprehension before climbing the stairs to move to his next class - Mineralogy.

… … …

This class couldn't be anything more than expected. It handled rocks and everything that came from rocks - specifically metals and how magecraft could manipulate them. This division of the Clock Tower actually worked with reinforcement magic but in a limited sense. Basic strengthening magic on the materials to make them more durable was as far as things got.

Thankfully, he had only received some odd looks rather than been the center of a confrontation in Mineralogy. The lesson today instructed him about poly composite materials. That was, how to blend composites with magecraft when they wouldn't combine traditionally. From what Shirou could gather, actually creating items wouldn't happen for some time. At the very least, he learned something new even if he had basically been applying the same principles himself.

When lunch rolled around, Shirou ambled around the large open area Luvia had shown him days ago. There were hundreds of tables here, but since the Tower was set within a museum, that had been expected. Two food kiosks sat nestled in the wall, already serving a line of hungry magi who were also on break. As he debated where to sit, he locked eyes with a woman in blue. A woman who smirked in self-satisfaction as she spotted the books in his arms.

With a movement of her arm, she beckoned him over. Glancing around as if he hadn't seen the action, Shirou reluctantly trailed along the floor toward her. He was technically still indebted to her, even if her supposed "compensation" was fake, he had agreed to one week, and he wasn't about to go against his own word.

"So how were your first two classes?" she asked immediately, guiding him to a small three-seater table.

Shirou thought about the question before answering, actually giving something genuine. "They weren't bad but they were far from what I expected. Too easy for my liking, I've already gone over some of this material on my own."

Luvia hummed, motioning for him to pull her seat out so that she could sit. He did so begrudgingly before settling into a chair across from her. "A lot of those introductory courses are too simple for a magus of decent quality. You'll want to specialize down into a field as soon as you can, only…" She trailed on, a distant look hazing over her eyes. As Shirou prepared to ask what happened, she flicked back into consciousness and shook her head slowly. "Go buy us food, then we can talk."

Shirou scrunched his face in confusion. "You want me to buy food? I might be your _lackey_ but I'm not paying fo-" Luvia silenced him by shoving a bill in his face.

"I'm not some slave driver, now quit your whinging and get moving."

Unenthusiastically, he snatched the bill and stood from the table. Walking toward one on the cafe-type stores, he looked over the menu and within the display coolers. They served pre-made sandwiches but there was also a kitchen add-on which made food fresh to order. The selection was surprisingly lacking and this college cafe had a daily soup-and-sandwich combo. Shirou couldn't find the special today very appealing, so he decided to move on to something else.

Shirou settled on two salads, mostly because he was unsure of Luvia's likes and dislikes. After a few minutes, he had the dishes and was walking back to the table. He was surprised to see a man with dark hair nestled in his spot. Based of Luvia's bored gaze, she wasn't interested in whatever he was selling.

When he neared, her eyes sparkled and her face split into a mischievous smile. "There he is now. _Blade_ , if you wouldn't mind. Could you please direct this gentleman away?"

He blinked, gently settling the two dishes in his hand on the table. The strange dark-haired man visibly sized Shirou up, chuckling at the sight. "Emo Robin Hood here is with you? Nice try. I bet he begged to even speak with you and you're just pitying him until someone better comes along."

Was everyone in the Clock Tower this pigheaded? Where did all the arrogance come from? Emo Robin Hood himself hardly took offence to the insults. As a response, he simply took a seat in the other chair. The one thing he hadn't really accounted for was eating. How was he supposed to eat with a scarf in the way? Casually, Shirou began to test open the bag containing a plastic fork. "That doesn't look like you're getting him away," Luvia huffed.

"He must realize that he's too weak." The man turned his attention to the Edelfelt girl, leaning over the table, and Shirou tried to determine how to get the food in front of him into his mouth. "So why the sudden cold shoulder? You seemed pretty interested when I first walked by." Just as Shirou predicted, he had been set up. Or there was an attempt to set him up anyway. Luvia had purposely incited the man here so Shirou could flex his muscles and give her insight. Chuckling to himself, he poked and prodded at his salad. Ths laugh seemed to alert the man and his attention moved back to Emo Robin Hood. "What's so funny?"

Shirou speared a couple of pieces of lettuce. And rested the fork on the container, still working out his method of actually eating food with this outfit on. "She's having us for a laugh. She lured you in so that when I came back, she could ask me to force you to leave. I thought the situation was a little fishy, but your statement then just confirmed it." Shirou absently slid the other plastic salad container over to Luvia, who was looking at him in surprise. "If you get up and leave now, you won't waste any more of your time, I'll keep my end of things by making you leave her alone and there won't have to be any violence on any of our parts." Picking up his fork again, he idly stirred the food below, glancing up with his eyes occasionally to spot the man's astounded face. He seemed to realize what was going on just as Shirou had and with a haughty grumble, he stood and left.

"I don't know whether to be surprised or angry that you figured out my plan," the woman huffed, sliding her salad close and removing the plastic lid to start eating.

"I did what you asked and got him to leave," he shrugged, pulling his hood closer to his face before folding the scarf up and bending forward. Careful to make sure most of his face remained concealed, Shirou stuffed his mouth with salad and replaced the scarf, chewing once his mouth was concealed. Eating like this was ridiculously tedious but if he wanted to retain anonymity, it was an unfortunate requirement.

"I guess you did so I can't really be mad." The Edelfelt girl pouted, lazily playing with her food. "How did you see through my plan so easily?"

Both Rin and Illya leapt to his mind. How many pranks had he seen coming before they could be enacted? If he included all the minor things, it was likely well over a hundred. Spearing more salad, he lifted his scarf and spoke before taking the next bite. "Let's just say I've had some practice."

There was a brief moment of silence as the two idly ate their lunch. "Huh, the more I learn about you the more interested I become." Shirou silently cursed himself. That was precisely what he was trying to _avoid_. This was going to be a long week, wasn't it?

… … …

Creation was interesting, to say the least. Shirou had gone in expecting to be crafting effective items with actual purposes. For a class named "Creation" there was a distinct lack of any creating. The students around him seemed to be more interested in art and design than practical or fundamental crafts. To most students, perfecting the overall shape and appearance was vital. Shirou's beliefs were entirely inverse. So long as whatever he made worked, its appearance didn't matter. Function over form and the like. At least he could learn something from the class anyway. Today the instructor had demonstrated how to determine if mythic components or objects with varying forms of magecraft were compatible with one another. It was something Shirou actually found interest in. Regardless of the general opinion of the student body, this class had the potential to teach him many things about creating his own conceptual weapons from scratch.

Modern Magecraft Theories was his last class of the day although unlike his other classes, he wasn't able to arrive alone. Since he was still classified as a slave under Luvia, he had continued to carry her books all day. Upon arriving, he settled the books on a desk and nestled into a chair. Spotting the instructor below, Shirou felt the strangest sense of familiarity even though he had never seen the man before. It felt wrong _not_ to remember the man's name.

A sharp, intimidating face with long black hair that reached his shoulders. The sharp look of his dark eyes was the most striking feature. He had the look of a man who had seen too much and became jaded as a result. He wore a two-piece suit in black with a crimson scarf draped simply over his shoulders. Immediately upon spotting Shirou, the teacher motioned with his hand for him to come down. With mild confusion, Shirou pointed to himself to confirm that it was really him he wanted. When the man nodded sharply, Shirou came to his call, politely asking what was needed when he neared.

"I need you to fill out a few forms," he grumbled, reaching into a briefcase to withdraw a few papers. "Select which classes interest you and I'll get you placed there within the next couple days."

Shirou gently grasped the papers being thrust his direction, offering a bewildered look as the pieces settled into place. Before his mind could stop him, he blurted out: " _You're_ Lord El-Melloi?"

The man in question snorted but the humour did not progress any further. "I bet your father would say the same thing. A lot has changed since then, whether it was for the better or not is still up for debate."

The redhead furrowed his brow. "Becoming a lord and surviving the War wasn't good enough?"

Waver closed the briefcase after gathering what was needed, letting out a stream of breath. "You'll see what I mean soon enough. After class today, go sign up for the Magus Tournament and prepare yourself for that."

Turning his back, Shirou had to take a second to realize what had been asked of him. "Even you want me to join that tournament next week?"

"Of course. If you're as formidable as your father claims you to be, you can make a reputation for yourself and scare off potential enemies early," he reasoned, slipping behind his desk and fixing the items on top.

"But I can't use my magecraft here, someone will s-"

"The arena is watched but is also surrounded by a bounded field. Nobody will be able to see with more than their eyes. So long as you don't create a reality marble or summon noble phantasms or conceptual weapons out of thin air, you should be fine." The Lord nodded. "Now settle down before anyone gets the wrong idea." With one hand, he motioned for the redhead to be seated. Turning, Shirou spotted the first few students filing into the room.

While Emo Robin Hood returned to his seat, the thought of projecting noble phantasms stuck to his mind. Was it possible? Could such a vast amount of power, the crystallization of a Heroic Spirit's greatest accomplishment, be replicated with enough precision to retain its power?

That thought was for another time. For now, he would focus on getting through the class and figuring out which specialized class he wanted to attend. Looking over the list on the paper almost gave him a headache. Projection and Reinforcement were obviously near the top of his list, but where would he go from there?

Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi, cleared his throat to silence the seated students and steal their attention. "Now as I've said before, I hope you've all registered in the Magus Tournament. Deadline midnight tomorrow so get them submitted. Remember there is a mandatory performance enhancement screening before _and_ after, so any recreational activities you might indulge yourself in should be postponed until after you lose or when you take the spot as champion this year." Glancing toward Shirou directly, he continued. "First-time competitors will be matched with another first-time competitor and face off in two-on-two engagements. Partnerships are randomized, and letters are being delivered the day after the registration deadline. Any late entries won't be accepted." He turned, slid his fingers along the desk and approached the blackboard. "That was me being brief. You can bring up further questions with Octavia. Now then, let's begin class."

… … …

"Looks you're all good to go, Blade. Cutting things a little close though, aren't you?" Octavia asked, flicking through sheets in her hands with dexterous fingers. He had only been six hours from the deadline, but he had made it regardless. Before he could actually apply, he needed to go through what was essentially a physical with magecraft evaluation on top. It was nothing more than verification that he was fit to fight and he wouldn't drop dead after casting a spell or being punched.

"I've had to balance a lot of stuff since I showed up. Trying to put aside some time to get this in on such short notice was a little difficult." Nervously, he scratched the back of his head and looked away in shame. He wasn't really lying, but he wasn't telling the entire truth either. He didn't have a single thing on his own schedule that needed doing besides eating, sleeping and attending class. One Luviagelita Edelfelt had different ideas. Like a pet on a leash, she had wanted to drag him around just to keep her company through the day. She had managed to snag him right after the end of classes yesterday, so he was hooked. He had only managed to get everything set up because he had stealthily avoided her after class.

"Ah-huh, well, either way, you're in. A letter will be waiting for you in your dorm sometime tomorrow morning, you'll be able to contact your partner through the means provided in writing." She rolled back into place, offering an unnaturally genuine smile. "As for the classes you selected yesterday, your enrollment has been successful and you can now attend the more focused classes whenever you so desire." Extending her hand, she offered what he could only guess to be schedule sheets. "Still a broad spread you've got, quite the academic you are."

"I'm just interested in a lot of different things," he commented, gently taking the papers from her. Just as she said, he had signed up for a good few classes. These specialized courses used one hour long courses instead of two, something Shirou found interesting. With his path now more precise, he had dropped Mineralogy and Creation in exchange for their more detailed brothers. He had eventually decided on Projection, Reinforcement, Item Creation, Alteration and Familiar Manipulation.

The only problem with this was that his eight hour days had grown longer by an hour. However, that slight sacrifice was worth the knowledge. Familiar Manipulation was the only class which he didn't have experience in, but it would prove invaluable if it taught what Shirou believed it would.

Either way, he was entered into the Magus Tournament now, and he would supposedly find more concrete details the following morning. Keeping his head cast down as he walked toward his dorm, a rumbling in his stomach clued him into how hungry he was.

He was sick of pre-packaged, cheaply made food. All he wanted was to cook a decent meal and his room at the Tower was _way_ too small to include even the barest kitchenette. He could have used the communal kitchen in the hall, but something about using a _public_ kitchen seemed to disturb him. Other people touching _his_ cooking equipment? No thanks.

Pulling his head up, he spotted the rapidly-familiarizing sight of a woman in blue. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could he already blurted out the thought in his mind. "Want to go have dinner somewhere?"

Luvia flinched as if he had punched her in the nose, eyes snapping open and mouth parting in surprise. Seconds passed and her cheeks suddenly flooded with blood to turn bright red.

Had he said something insulting?

… … …

… … …

Why were girls so weird? Why did they always think that going out for dinner was some sort of date? Couldn't two hungry people just eat together at the same place?

Shirou hadn't heard the end of things until they actually arrived at a place to eat. Through her complaints and assumptions, Luvia managed to actually recommend a traditional British pub.

"Since you're a foreigner, I figured you would want to try some of the local food. The Tower doesn't have anything of the sort and this is the best place I've found in all of London."

She had dragged him through the tube, down streets and through back alleys until he wasn't even too sure which district of London they were in anymore. Eventually, she led him down a pair of stairs into a sketchy looking speakeasy identified only by a weather-worn wooden sign hanging off a brass fixture. The sign lacked words but featured intricate metal work which displayed the clear image of a fish with grill marks leaping from a body of water. The scales of the fish had been worn by time and water, drawing out the iridescent nature of the metal which added to the beauty.

Something about the dilapidated, dive-like veneer of the entrance actually attracted Shirou for some peculiar reason. It was like the owner didn't mind the worn look, that they were confident the quality within would more than make up for its decrepit appearance.

A thought suddenly reached his mind. "Are you even allowed in here? I thought you couldn't enter bars unless you were over eighteen." That entire statement was laden with hypocrisy. Shirou was sixteen and he had worked at the Copenhagen back in Fuyuki for a couple of years already.

"You don't have to be over eighteen to _enter_ a pub, but if you want to drink alcohol you have to be." She practically slid down the stairs, pushing open the large oak door by its long, vertical brass handle. Based on the heavy wear marks in the center, it was quite well-used.

Stumbling down to follow her, he suddenly felt that it was going to be a long night of deflecting personal questions.

… … …

It wasn't often that curiosity got the better of him, but this was an exceptional case. Ever since Risei Kotomine had died, Kiritsugu had secretly been wondering who would step up to take his place. Kirei had been the obvious next choice, but with him out of the way, who was left?

Kiritsugu looked down the stone pathway toward the church, having paused to take a break before entering. He also took the time to create a few quick-use runes from sizeable stones scattered around the ground. The new priest would definitely be an executor and they would also be the upcoming mediator for the Fifth Grail War. Their objectives and expectations would be clear, they would be formidable and responsible. Even if they were a mediator, there was still the chance for them to be a combatant in the upcoming Grail War.

For that reason alone, it was a good idea to at least see what they might be dealing with. Pushing his shoulder off the concrete pillar, the Magus Killer casually strode down the path and was struck with a sense of deja vu. He had done this once before, hadn't he? The Magus Killer was almost tracing the steps to kill Risei. At least his intentions were a bit purer this time.

Gently pushing open the door, he was graced with the familiar sights and sounds within. Whoever had taken over, they hadn't made any renovations or tried to pull the church into the twenty-first century at all. Candles dimly illuminated the room, and the censer was still in extensive use. Kiritsugu's nose almost burned at the overpowering scent.

The door hadn't been locked, so walk-ins were still being permitted. Then again, it was early in the morning, so such a thing was to be expected. Carefully walking down the red-carpeted aisle, he looked around the seating area while his muffled footsteps echoed throughout the stone building.

He tried to speak, but his throat had a catch from the heavy incense which needed to be cleared. After dealing with that, he called out a simple greeting to which he received no response.

An eerie feeling descended over him then, and he responded by activating his circuits and reinforcing his body. One hand slipped underneath his coat, gripping onto the handle of his Contender while the other casually rested in his pocket, fumbling with some quick-use runes.

The hollow, empty noise that had been present upon entry was silenced. The only companion he had now was tinnitus and the sense of forbearance. This was identical to what the environment felt like an instant before an explosion, abnormal stillness and unnatural silence.

"Oh, hello."

A soft voice from his left sent him reeling to the side, muscles tensing as he spotted a frail-looking girl barely poking her head above the lectern on the altar. Her white hair, the young face and sleepy features: He was watching his daughter awaken from a nap, how coul- He blinked in surprise and the vision disappeared.

No, she was different. This was just an altar woman, clad in robes much too big for her with ashen white hair and piercing yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. She looked just slightly older than Illya, likely eleven or twelve if his estimation skills were still prime. Focusing now, he realized that she looked nothing like his little girl, so why had he...

"I must have fallen asleep after praying, I'm sorry." The girl gently lifted herself from the ground, made a little stretch and placed both hands over her front respectfully. "You have come quite early, is there something I might be able to help you with? Confession is open at any time before and after the sermon as you might know."

The least he could do was recover in a timely matter. Without any sort of threat present, he withdrew his hands from his weaponry and smoothed out his coat to make it appear as if he was doing that all along. "I was looking for the presiding priest in fact, would you happen to know where they are?"

The woman stiffened, clenched her robes in each hand then seemed to relax in the next instance. "You've found her, I'm the current priest." She must have taken note of his visible surprise because she continued to explain. "I have been for a little while now."

Narrowing his eyes, he made a strange noise with his mouth and his muscles tensed. "I apologize for my reaction, I hadn't expected someone so young to be in such a position of responsibility." So the church hadn't employed an enforcer in Risei's stead? Why would they have given such an important position to such a young girl? "It must be incredibly difficult for you."

The girl extended both arms, looking around the church. "It's not a hard job - I guess. I offer sermons and provide respite to those who seek it. I also maintain the church grounds. It's probably a good thing that Fuyuki has a rather diminished number of followers otherwise my inexperience would likely get the better of me." Kiritsugu had expected her to laugh off his words as an over-stressed young person would, but she didn't. In fact, she was entirely serious.

The level of maturity with which this girl held herself reminded him of Rin when he had first spoken with her in her own home. That time seemed so far in the past, but nowhere near as distant as the Fourth Grail War. He was a different person then, that time was a different life of his entirely - a time he would rather forget. "Interesting," he commented, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his coat. "I merely wanted to pop in to express my welcome. While I'm not a religious man, the last priest and I had a close relationship and after hearing of his unfortunate passing, I wished to ensure the church was in capable hands." He paused then, offering a faux-genuine smile. "After speaking with you, I can see you'll be more than capable. You only need some time to adjust to your new surroundings." He made a quarter turn, stopping as he reminded himself to gather an important detail. "If you don't mind my asking, what might your name be?"

There was a brightness that blossomed in the pale yellow eyes and he could have sworn the corners of her lips cracked upwards in the start of a smile. "Caren Hortensia."

… … …

… … ...

Shirou's partner in the tournament was a boy named "Lectra". Although, that wasn't his real name. He was registered officially at the Clock Tower as Landry "Lectra" Hammon. Besides his name, there was surprisingly little provided in the letter. Come to think of it, that might have been an overstatement. Only two other things had been inside. One was the room number where his partner was staying and the other was a rather candid-looking picture of the boy. The information had allowed him to do a little research of his own at the very least.

Lectra's face and features were very juvenile. Small, rounded and often touched with simplistic, childish happiness that confused Shirou. This man was two years older than him? He had sun-bleached brownish hair that spilled over the top of his head in an absolute mess, descending to his shoulders and partly concealing deep cerulean eyes. He wore blue jeans and a baggy black hoodie which was missing the pull strings. On the chest sat a coloured graphic of three different cats sitting in a bowl of ramen. At least, that was what Shirou believed it was trying to be if the boiled egg, garnishing and noodles were any indication.

When Shirou first found the letter containing his partner's information, he had made a point of going straight to him as soon as he had enough time so they could establish a strategy. If they were to fight side by side, gaining an understanding over what each of them could do was paramount.

Shirou had come after class at an hour that he expected to be reasonable. Upon knocking on Lectra's door however, it looked like he had just rolled out of bed - at five in the afternoon. His hair was strung about in every direction, he was in the middle of rubbing his eyes and he wasn't even wearing pants. A visual trace revealed details a picture simply couldn't. He was a meagre five foot six and a half, near one hundred twenty-five pounds. All in all, a strong enough breeze could blow him over. Upon opening the door, Lectra blinked and visibly looked Shirou over before shouting loud enough to make the redhead flinch.

"That outfit is super cool!" The pitch and inflection of his voice seemed at least three years younger than his real age. At the very least it matched his appearance. It was high and expressive, almost to the point where Shirou could have mistaken him for a girl if he closed his eyes.

Recovering from the initial flinch, he looked himself over as if disbelieving of the compliment. The only part of his outfit which Shirou didn't like was the cape. It was too long and got in the way of everything, but such was the cost of being anonymous. "You really think so?"

Lectra nodded enthusiastically, placing both hands on his hips. "One hundred percent. You look like a thief or assassin from a fantasy book or something!"

Shirou reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "I think this was made to scare people off more than just look cool," he admitted, curious about what Bazett would say if she were there.

"Nah, it's not scary at all. It would need more spikes, angles and stuff to be threatening." The eccentric kid made wild picture frame motions with his hands and partly stuck out his tongue as if designing a new outfit in his head. "But anyway, what are you here for, cool dude?"

Casually, Shirou moved the letter in his hand into view. "It just so happens you and I are partners."

Lectra's eyes bugged so far out of his skull that Shirou was worried they would pop out. His whole body stiffened before snapping into an astonished stance with his arms to his side. "Someone as cool looking as you is _my_ partner? Aw man, this is gonna be awesome! I signed up just so that I could see all the cool spells everyone else knows. I never expected to win!"

Shirou raised his eyebrows in concern. "I don't know if you should be so confident before we've even seen the first competitors. Speaking of, I think we should take the time between now and the first fight to train."

"Train?"

This guy was going to be absolutely worthless in a fight, wasn't he? "Yeah, train. You show me what you can do, I'll show you what I can do and we establish tactics from there. We'll need to work as a team if we want to win this tournament and we don't have much time before the first rounds begin." In fact, there was hardly three full days before the first duel and now.

The boy's surprise deepened further. "You mean right now?"

"Of course. As far as I know there are duelling arenas throughout the Tower. You can show me what you've got and we'll go from there." Lectra's eyes widened at the prospect of fighting. Whether that was because of nerves, fear or just plain confusion was entirely unknown.

… … …

For once, it wasn't Shirou who was rolling along the ground in pain. Letting out a controlled breath as steam ambiently wisped off his fist, Shirou stood tall. "You left your entire core open. Anyone with the slightest amount of combat experience could overpower you."

The boy coughed, groaning and holding onto his chest as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees. After a few heaving breaths, he calmed down enough to speak. "I told you I was never any good at self-defence, I'm only good at spiritual evocation and even then I don't have enough money to purchase the ingredients I need." With some obvious effort, the boy stood and rubbed at his still aching body. "And this is totally unfair! You're not even using magecraft, you're just punching me!"

Shirou was smiling absently under his scarf, enjoying the resolve being displayed. Merely standing after taking a hit like that was enough to tell Shirou that Lectra would put in his all. "Plenty of magi use physical combat techniques boosted with magecraft. Very few are strictly ranged combatants. Any formidable magus will use weapons rather than raw magecraft. If you aren't comfortable with attacking up close, then try to keep me pinned down at a distance. Maximize the amount of space between us to buy yourself time." As the boy seemed to prepare himself, Shirou raised his fists. "In the tournament, I'll try to protect you as best I can but in the off chance they slip by me, it's best that you know what to do. Essentially, buy yourself time until I can bail you out."

The boy nodded, grimacing as his motions sent pain through his form. "A-alright, you seem like you know your stuff so I'll try to follow." Shirou's smile deepened. It was nice being on the _other_ side of a sparring beatdown once in a while.

… … …

Lectra was an all-around skilled magus. With one or two line arias in French, he could create large balls of destabilized ether. While they appeared harmless at first, their blast radius was rather large. What made them truly threatening, was their "mana leaching" effect. Like a parasite, the blast wave of the attack absorbed mana and transferred it to the caster. Any excess energy could then be transferred into whatever Lectra's hand touched next. Like his next projectile. Lectra had developed several types of these ether grenades. One was the normal contact explosive type, another operated much like a smoke grenade with painful, concealing vapours which persisted after detonation. Another type was a cluster bomb variation which released dozens of smaller segments before exploding all at once. All of these grenades could be set to detonate on a timer or on contact.

Lectra revealed his element to be ether, just like Illya. Ether was considered a "neutral" element with no obvious strength or weakness. It was also said to be the most versatile element and after seeing what Illya was able to do, Shirou was more than convinced. Lectra himself had a couple abilities using nothing more than his raw element. Where his versatility really shined was in his familiar construction. The variety he could create depended only on his imagination and the resources he had access to. Typical familiar construction required a medium to load magic circuits onto before the familiar could actually work as intended.

However, when the familiar was created using pure ether as a source, this magical energy could be utilized as circuitry itself. That feature alone allowed Lectra to create familiars purely out of energy. Inefficient, weak and unstable as they were, they still provided a distraction, even for Shirou. Just like his grenades, Lectra's familiars also siphoned mana upon contact. After learning more about each other and their respective abilities, Shirou established some tactics they could use and codewords that would call for them. When the two decided it was enough for one day, both partners were feeling significantly more confident about their odds.

Exiting the training room, Shirou nearly walked straight into a particularly aggravated Luvia. "What kind of guy sets up a bounded field in a Clock Tower arena?" Her eyes snapped onto the shorter man behind him, widening before her body snapped into a more prim and proper posture. "And who might your friend be?" Watching the rapid shift in her mannerisms was amusing to Shirou. So she put on a facade at school just like Rin. The similarities between the two were growing in number. Even though they acted the same, they would never be the same in his mind.

Memories of those last few seconds at the airport flickered back to him, bringing a warming sensation to his chest. In the same instance, a harsh mental scolding resounded within his head. He couldn't think about Rin like _that_. If he did, it would hurt Sakura. He still needed to play things off like he was a mindless idiot. The only way he would respond was if one of the girls came right out about their affections to him, even then he could play the fool enough to dissuade them without hurting their feelings.

"The kind of guy who likes keeping his secrets as secrets," Shirou calmly responded, crossing both arms over his chest. "Don't you have anything better to do than try to eavesdrop on your opponents?"

Luvia snorted, then laughed with one hand resting on her chest. "Opponents? You think that the two of you will make it out of the first-year qualifiers?" Her laugh deepened but the noise budged his own face none. Obviously, she found the premise quite humorous.

"You might be surprised, but Lectra here is a powerful mage. You should watch yourself because he might be fighting you for the spot as this year's champion." He was lying through his teeth and the confused noise from behind revealed that even Lectra didn't believe him.

The woman in blue set both hands on her hips, making a pompous "hmph" as she looked between them both. "I don't know if you're insulting my ability by claiming I would lose or complimenting me by considering I might make it to the finals."

"Why are the two of you talking like I don't even exist," Lectra whined, trying to shove Shirou but failing miserably. With his hands against the larger boy's shoulder, it looked like he was trying to force over a wall which refused to budge. "I exist, you know!"

Not even moving his eyes to the distraction, Shirou continued to glare at the princess-pretender. Leaning forward to encroach on her space, he donned a threatening tone. "If you have doubts about yourself, I guess you're not that much of a threat."

He watched her eyes sharpen into daggers, brows furrowing and lips creasing into a scowl. Within those burgundy eyes, a blazing fire sprouted out of nowhere. She looked prepared to remove his head from his shoulders. "Are you calling me weak?"

He shrugged, smirk beginning to grow under his scarf. He never had the luxury of being the _teaser_ , now he understood why the girls back home did it. Wearing this outfit was dangerous, he could let the sarcastic, condescending side of himself that lied in the back of his mind out without consequence. "Your words, not mine." Shirou could actually _see_ the temperature of her face rise as the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"Why, you!" The hands at her hips shot downward, clenching into fists. She looked about ready to throw one of those hands right into his face in fact. Her eyes darted to the inside of the room before landing back on him. "If you think I'm so weak, why don't we go for a round then? Or are you too scared to hit a girl?"

"I'm not afraid to hit anyone when it's called for, but I'm tired and I wouldn't want to give you an advantage in the tournament." As if to exemplify his exhaustion, Shirou genuinely yawned, something which was contagious enough to infect both Lectra and Luvia.

In the middle of her yawn, Luvia tried to get some words out that Shirou barely interpreted as: "Don't you dare take this as my agreement."

"No matter what you say, I'm not fighting tonight, Luvia. Besides, we've both got to wake up early for class tomorrow and I imagine Lectra would like to get some sleep too." For the first time since their conversation began, Lectra was noticed and the boy's eyes seemed to sparkle. That alone was enough to scare Shirou into looking back at Luvia.

The girl in blue made an annoyed hum, stamping one foot lightly before easing the tension in her body. "Fine. Even if I do manage to convince you into fighting, knowing you wouldn't even want to put in your all makes it boring." Turning on her heel and throwing her hand over her shoulder, the girl spoke in a royal tone. "Prepare yourself next time, because then I won't be so forgiving."

A few seconds passed, then Lectra's voice reminded Shirou that he was was still there, and _still_ trying to topple him no less. "I guess when you're strong and look cool you get to deal with girls like that, huh?"

Offering a strange glance, Shirou couldn't help but laugh. "I've dealt with women a lot worse than her, trust me."

… … …

… … …

Rin sneezed loudly in the middle of the street, blinking several times as she recovered from the event. She was actually lucky that she hadn't dropped the large wooden box in her hands. Shrugging it off as some air impurities or pollen, she continued walking toward the Emiya household. It had only been a few days since Shirou left and she had absolutely nothing but spare time on her hands without him to distract her.

Oh, who was she kidding?

He was the only thing that had given her something _to_ do. She had gone through her father's entire library, she had conducted countless experiments, she had mastered all of the Tohsaka hidden magecraft beyond the mysteries her father couldn't crack and she had even developed her own gems. They were new and incredibly unstable, but that instability could prove beneficial in a combat situation. In fact, with Shirou and Illya helping her along, she estimated that her progress as a first-rate magus had been vastly accelerated.

One of the main hindrances in magecraft was the lack of proper, willing test subjects. Whether it be lack of trust or fear of the Association, many magi refused to involve others in their miracles. But Rin had grown to know the entire Emiya family over the years. Shirou was trustworthy to a fault, Illya was too apathetic and carefree to use any knowledge against her and Kiritsugu…

Well, Kiritsugu was the only one she had issues about - but he was never involved with her magecraft studies anyway, so the threat was still minimal. Regardless of his true intentions, she had his livelihood in her hands. At any moment, she could call the Mage's Association on him, should things ever get to that point.

Memories of Elizabeth Velum at her door that night weeks ago were still fresh. Kiritsugu was known to manipulate everyone around him for his own personal gain. While Rin had always put her faith in the Magus Killer, that comment had broken it slightly.

So the Tohsaka had devised a test. A simple test really, something given to toddlers and potential troublemakers alike. She would give him a puzzle box, and instruct him _not_ to touch it. The box itself, the one in her hands at the moment in fact, had been left to her by her departed father. It had four complex puzzles and intricate mechanisms she had yet to crack. What made things worse was that the bounded fields outlying the box's structure was that of a self-destruct type mechanism. Should anyone or anything tamper with the box or try to gain access through magecraft, it would collapse and destroy the contents.

So solving the puzzles was mandatory. Still, Rin had a way to see _inside_ the container without having to worry about any of that. The only problem was, he was a few thousand miles away. She had never made him trace the box simply because she had never told him about it. She had been patiently trying to crack the code and had determined the solution to half of the puzzles but that patience was wearing thin. Rin just wanted to see if all her effort was even worth it.

As for her test with Kiritsugu, the bounded field was developed using her father's magic and while she couldn't remove it or its effects, she could layer her own field over the top in such a way that the two appeared as one. Even to Kiritsugu, a man known to break bounded fields like glass, it would seem identical. Her additional field would merely detect if there was a foreign object within its space, as in, a nosey former freelancer who wanted to deceive her.

Walking up the familiar steps to the Emiya household, Rin roughly slid the door open with her hip. After years of coming and going, she no longer had to knock and wait for an answer. "Kiritsugu, it's Rin!" she called out, carefully removing her shoes. "I've got a slight favour to ask of you."

… … …

The girl briefly explained the premise of the box, its origins, her attempts to open it and the bounded field surrounding it. She specifically instructed the man not to touch it or attempt to solve the puzzles at any point. She was merely leaving it here for Shirou to trace when he returned from Britain. Kiritsugu was very accommodating, surprisingly. With a smile, he listened and nodded along with her instructions, carefully taking the box and storing it in the stone shed in the backyard.

"It will be here until Shirou returns. I've placed it within my safe so that no prying hands can get inside." Casually, he slipped Illya a glare. The girl in question whined, claiming that it was "only one time" before huffing angrily.

Rin's mind took the time to point out how clear it was that Kiritsugu was able to be trusted. If he put it in his safe - the safe not even Shirou knew the combination to - Kiritsugu was sure to leave it alone as instructed. "I'm glad to hear it's so well protected, if I ever think that I've solved the puzzle before he gets back, I'll return."

"Well, you know you're welcome in my home any time." The man settled at the table, wrapping his hands around a small coffee cup. As he sat down, Missy entered the room and expressed her greetings.

"Ms. Tohsaka, it's been a few days since you last visited. I had nearly begun to think that you only visited for Shirou." The woman closed her eyes softly and smiled. "Although after hearing what Ms. Einzbern tells me, I can certainly see why." As Rin felt her face grow in temperature, a chuckling and girlish giggle sounded from around her.

For one of the few times in her life, Rin couldn't find the words to say, deciding to lower her head so that her face could be hidden. "Missy is just teasing. In any case, it would be nice if you stayed for dinner, Rin." The old man offered a warm smile, but Rin couldn't quite tell if it was genuine or not. How could a man like this be manipulating her? Taking her hesitation as a cue, he tried to convince her further. "Sakura is coming over as well and she has been experimenting with her cooking recently."

A single clap of hands from the side drew Rin's attention. It was Missy, looking quite pleased with herself. "Yes, yes! Ms. Matou has been trying her hand at quite a number of western dishes, you _have_ to try them."

Three sets of eyes were staring at her waiting for her response. Each one of them was silently asking that she stay. "Fine, but it couldn't possibly be as good as one of Shirou's meals." What else could she possibly say? Decline and disappoint everyone around her?

… … …

… … ...

Shirou leapt from his bed in the middle of the night. Unbridled terror ran through his veins. On reactions alone, his circuits activated and swords appeared in each hand. He was fighting an opponent he couldn't see, and the unfortunate part was that they were winning. The sound of grinding metal echoed in his ears, but after a few seconds - it suddenly stopped. His blades weren't hitting any resistance, and his eyes realized that nobody was in the room.

He'd had a dream, a nightmare. It wasn't the usual nightmare of trudging through the ruins of Fuyuki after the Great Fire, this one was different. His memories of the dream were slipping away with each passing instant like water down a drain. Every fact and feature that he remembered was fading. This dream had made him remember the _last_ dream he had, where he… All of those memories had already faded away, becoming an obscure shadow. What remained were the barest fragments of his most recent dream.

In this dream, Shirou was in _that_ world again. He was fighting some unstoppable, unseen force that pushed him to his absolute limit at every encounter. They were-

He was-

What was he thinking about?

He had been trying to focus on something, but he couldn't remember what that even was anymore. Shirou was panting, fists clenched tight around the handle of… Even those were gone. The blades that had been so familiar to him, the weapons he had just been using, no longer existed. He couldn't even recall what they looked like. His hands were still locked around hilts which weren't even there. Opening his hands hesitantly, he looked at the skin inside. There were depressions from where he had been gripping handles, but he couldn't even remember ever holding anything.

Both hands clenched into fists with enough pressure to cause searing pain. Was this all due to his reality marble? Shortly after activating his reality marble for the first time, he had forgotten a vital dream. Just like this time, he could only remember that his dream had been _important_ , nothing more. Was he exchanging sanity for power? Was his mind just tricking him? Or had he unlocked some part of himself that now threatened to destabilize his entire personality?

The last possibility was the most concerning. He might have been broken from the start, and only now it decided to surface. Drops of blood trickled from around his fingers, dripping onto the floor. Would he lose control of himself and need to be collared or shackled like some wild beast? Hazy memories of that dimly lit basement in Fuyuki came to him in parts. He had heartlessly pulverized a man because they had hurt Illya. He had mercilessly killed two freelance agents and an enforcer to protect his family. What if _that_ person was what he truly was inside? No Hero of Justice killed in order to protect their loved ones. No matter what, they prevented death of all types. Then again, he wasn't really a Hero of Justice, was he?

Shirou's hands were shaking in a complex blend of emotions. There was no way to possibly define what he was feeling, but he knew it was enough to prevent him from ever getting back to sleep. Looking at his alarm clock, he took note that class was still two hours away. At the very least, he could get his head cleared before that began. Seamlessly projecting clothes onto his body, the redhead quickly left the room for some fresh air. As he walked, he considered everything he knew about himself.

* * *

 **Believe it or not this little existential wake-up blurb is my favourite part in the entire chapter. Next chapter features more Clock Tower shenanigans and the beginning of the Magus Tournament. As well as the introduction of a few new characters none of you will be expecting. _You thought Luvia was bad_ , _you haven't seen anything yet_. **

**Lectra is fun to write, but the next character is going to be even more so. This new character will be a canon character, so if you want help in trying to figure out what to write for a review, try to guess who the next character (or characters) might be.**

 **So favourite, follow and leave a review please! I love hearing from you all, no matter how simple you might think your words are - they mean so much to me. Also, please give some thanks to my Beta. They've helped out a lot and they've gathered an incredible amount of information regarding London for me!**


	16. For Glory

**EDIT:** **With each new chapter I edit, a little bit of my sanity dies. I imagine by the end of this I'll be a brainless zombie wandering the streets rambling lines from Fate:US that got stuck in my head.**

 **Howdy readers!**

 **There isn't a whole bunch to talk about. More reviews from you guys which were awesome to see, a couple of which were focused on Caren. In canon, from what I've been able to research, she is 14 years old during the Fifth Grail War. Since we're still in 2002 that makes her 12 years old.**

 **Some of you predicted Lorelei Bathomeloi and well... Guess you'll just have to see.**

* * *

"Come on Lectra, just a little more!" Slamming his fist in the face of an ether construct, Shirou searched for the next. With a spray of purplish sparks, the familiar collapsed into a pile of slowly fading ash. Two more constructs came at him at once, swinging energy-based weaponry toward his head. Ducking low, he swung his leg around in a circle to send both familiars onto their backs. "That's good! Keep it up!"

Two more replaced the couple he had knocked down. As he prepared to make a move that would defeat them both, a crackle over his shoulder sent his head reeling backward. Lectra had created a familiar behind him, setting him in the center of a pincer. As his mind raced to think of a way out, a low energetic hum from above sealed his fate. Even though he wasn't going all out, he had lost. Smirking to himself, he fell to the ground, tucking his legs up to his chest so the cape on his back could shield most of his body.

As expected, something impacted his back and a massive explosion dominated the arena. Weakness invaded his body and his skin warmed significantly as mana was sucked straight from his reserves. As the blast of energy subsided, normal vision returned. Emo Robin Hood released a held breath, panting while his body tried to adjust to everything that had happened.

From behind him, an enthusiastic voice shouted out. "I won, I finally beat you for once!" While Shirou wasn't even using weapons or putting all of his effort in, Lectra did manage to catch him off guard. He was actually a good tactician when given time to think. Shirou could only hope that their opponents would underestimate Lectra and focus on him instead.

Standing shakily, Shirou adjusted to the weak feeling in his legs. Lectra moved close, joy clear in his motions. When he was within reach, he pressed a hand against Shirou's chest, offering back the mana he stole with less than perfect efficiency. Strength returned to him then. It was an odd feeling to have power torn away and given back like this, but as it became more common, Shirou acclimated to it.

"That was very good, Lectra. Striking while your opponent is distracted is a great way to end a battle quickly." Shirou offered a smile, then remembered his face was concealed by the scarf. "If you couldn't tell, I'm smiling under here." He pointed to his face, getting a snort from the older boy.

"I didn't even know you had a face under there." Throwing his arm over his head, Lectra stretched with small noises of strain. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking," he paused, likely deciding on how to phrase the question "What's it all for?"

"My outfit?" Shirou asked for confirmation, getting a short nod. "My identity needs to be hidden to protect people that are important to me." Pausing for a moment, he decided to be entirely honest. "That, and in the off chance the Clock Tower wants to stuff me in a jar, I can leave and come back under a new alias with my true appearance."

Holding both arms behind his head, Lectra made a noise of acknowledgement. "I guess you have things all sorted out then."

"Well, not everything," he admitted bashfully, closing one eye and scratching the back of his neck. "I still have no idea how this tournament is going to end up."

"I have faith it will be in your favour." A strange voice from the side made Shirou snap his head to the source. It didn't take more than a half second for him to identify who it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou could see Lectra was absolutely stunned. "Lord-"

"El-Melloi the _Second_ , yes." Clearing his throat, the raven-haired man directed his attention to Shirou. "Landry Hammon, if you wouldn't mind excusing yourself so that I may speak to your partner alone." Waver's piercing gaze never left Shirou's eyes; the two were locked into a staring match. The glare made his body tense, senses reflexively sharpening in preparation for a fight. Was this some sort of power given to the Lords, or was it just something Waver could muster on his own?

Lectra audibly gulped. "You're on your own, Blade. Whatever you did it looks pretty bad." Without another word, he bolted toward the entrance, closing the door quietly behind him. Waver raised one hand, snapping his fingers to shroud the room in a dense bounded field. Immediately, his face softened and Shirou felt relieved.

"You're not in any trouble...yet. I merely wanted to take a moment of your time to speak with you for a little while. I couldn't speak much in class and I was unable to make time before now." Waver paused, taking a few steps around the arena.

Shirou felt his body relax, fists he didn't know he'd made unclenching as the threat vanished. "You come in looking like that just so we can have a chat?"

The lord chuckled, looking down at his feet as he paced the room. "It was the only effective way to get your friend there to clear out in a timely manner." He looked up at the redhead, lifting an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what you two were doing in here?"

Shirou's head twitched. What sort of question was that? "We were training for the tournament, what else would we be doing?"

Waver's eyebrow was still suspended high. "So you don't… Hm, well you'll find out sooner or later. Speaking of the tournament, how are you feeling?"

The boy shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while letting out a breath. "I can't say I'm too confident. I have no clue what I'll be up against and this will be Lectra's first time in a real combat situation. Our cohesion is sketchy at best but he trusts me enough to keep our tactics in a decent state."

Reaching into his coat, Lord El-Melloi fished out a cigar and calmly placed it between his lips. Just as casually, he reached into the other side and withdrew a lighter. Within seconds, the room was filled with the subtly sweet scent of genuine tobacco. Comparing it to cigarettes wasn't even fair. While Shirou didn't like the smell regardless, this he could at least bear with it. "You should be fine. From what I hear, you're used to taking on multiple opponents on your own anyway."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. "You know about that?"

"Of course. I told your father that I wouldn't permit you into the Clock Tower unless I had all the facts. I wasn't about to risk my head for someone I don't know the history of. I know you killed two freelance agents and Elizabeth Velum, an enforcer. If I had the intention, I could have you executed or imprisoned."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. This wasn't a threat, the man's body language was too open for it to be taken that way. He was merely being blunt and pointing out information. "So you want me to grovel and beg at your feet?"

Waver snorted, pausing to blow out a lungful of smoke. "Of course not. I owe your father a great debt, some might say my life. I have no doubts that his gun was trained on my position through the entire War. For one reason or another, he kept me alive, allowed me to work with him in the shadows. For that reason, I've allowed such a great favour to be asked of me. Your father and I have both agreed that this is the last time. We both have our own lives that we need to keep separate." Closing the distance between them both, the older man offered a smile. "But let's talk about less depressing things. There was a girl Kiritsugu had me look after, I believe her name was Sakura." A sudden pang of guilt and sadness coursed through Shirou. It was a feeling that hit him every time he was reminded of Sakura's past. It was also a reminder that he wasn't doing anything to help her. "How is she doing?"

… … …

… … …

Sakura would never consider herself the jealous type-

No, that was a terrible lie.

She was jealous that Rin could get so close to Shirou without it being seen as weird. She was jealous that Illya could sleep in the same room right beside him. She was jealous that they all lived a normal life free from any sort of torturous magecraft.

Most of all, she was jealous of their freedom.

She had been free once when she was younger. Kiritsugu had risked his life saving her and he destroyed the Matou manor in the same act. In his attempt, he had been heavily injured but once they were outside, he could do nothing but laugh.

Above all else, Sakura wondered _why_ he laughed at that moment. Was it because he hadn't expected to make it out alive? Was it because the act was so out of character for him? Or was it because he realized how worthless she really was, and that the thought of him risking his life over something so trivial was amusing in a macabre way? That didn't explain why his eyes seemed so sad when he looked at her. It wasn't pity, of that she was sure.

Across the table, his sombre, smirking facade betrayed deep sadness. It was the only emotion she could ever glean from his features. While she was naturally good at picking out people's feelings or seeing if they were lying, Kiritsugu consistently eluded her. Only Illya could decipher his nuances and determine his true thoughts. Examining Illya's face, Sakura could read from her that she was concerned with her father, that she could see what he was feeling.

Reaching over to tug on the sleeve of his robe, the girl asked the question Sakura had wanted to for years. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Yeah, you've hardly even touched the delicious meal Sakura made for us!" came the joyous quip of Taiga. Shortly after commenting, the clamour of cutlery betrayed the Tiger's appreciative appetite.

The Emiya looked down, expressing a hollow chuckle as he tossed food around his plate like a fussy child. "I suppose I've been lost in memories."

"Memories? Like when you and mommy used to live in Germany?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes cast down. They seemed to darken another shade at Illya's comment, but she couldn't have been sure. "A little more recent than that, sweetheart. It's nothing to worry about. Just something that happened to slip out of my hands." He lifted his head to look Sakura right in the eyes. The saddened smile told her more than enough. He was thinking about _her_ when she was recaptured by Zouken. She had no idea that he still thought of such a day. It was years ago and he couldn't have done anything more.

it wasn't his fault.

"Regret then," came the soft voice of Missy. "They say regret is the most destructive emotion. Turns mountains to quivering stones, heroes into villains." The woman popped a single onigiri into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "So I've read anyway."

Illya leaned forward in the table, narrowing her eyes. "The only thing I see you do all day is read. Where do you get the money for all those books?"

Kiritsugu laughed, placing his hand on top of her head. "I allow Missy to purchase whatever she desires." Illya's head snapped back so fast that Sakura thought it might fly off her shoulders. The look in her eyes must have meant something to Kiritsugu because he awkwardly stiffened before trying to laugh it off with another pat of the head. "You didn't get a new dress because you didn't get an A+ on your final exams. Missy, on the other hand, contributes to this house in more ways than you might notice. Who do you think has been cleaning up after us all since Shirou's been gone?"

Sakura didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation, setting her body to eating autopilot as she thought about what Kiritsugu must have gone through over the past few years.

… … …

"You sure you can't stay?" he asked, leaning against the door with crossed arms. His eyes darkened a shade, becoming empty. "I know you have certain responsibilities to attend to at home, but another day wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Sakura opened her mouth, taking a half step forward before her mind could stop her. She wanted to, she would wish for nothing more than another day away from that hell. The more rational part of her brain reminded her that staying would kill her and forced her to shake her head. "Without Shirou here, I wouldn't have an excuse to stay. Grandfather might get suspicious."

Kiritsugu frowned, smouldering rage blossoming in those dark pits. "I told you never to call that _worm_ your grandfather."

The tone of his voice was enough to make her flinch. He had said exactly that all those years ago, hadn't he? But she'd never had a choice. If Sakura didn't call him grandfather, she was punished. Not only by the old worm but by Shinji. Her hands clenched around the fabric of her dress, head shaking with more confidence. "I'm sorry," she stumbled out, turning on her heel and moving toward the exit.

"Sakura!" a commanding voice cemented her in her tracks. Sniffling, she half-turned her head to look back. She could see him sigh, shoulders slouching forward in defeat. Even his voice now expressed how much sorrow he was in. "Just a little longer. I don't know how, but I'll figure it out." Even with vague wording, Sakura understood his meaning.

… … …

… … …

… … ...

The preliminary fights were tomorrow, Friday. Shirou had been working hard catching up in his classes as well as training Lectra and so far he was balancing both nicely. The lack of word from Bazett was starting to concern him though. It had almost been a full week and nothing so much as a "boo" had come in. She had said she would be lying low, but how low was she going?

The sound of rain on glass drifted into his mind for a moment. As Shirou had come to expect, it was raining again. That meant outside was totally cut off for the day. Actually finding himself missing the sun, he had started moving his activities outdoors whenever it happened to be nice out. Studying, eating or just hanging out was usually brought outside whenever the sun appeared.

Over the past few days, life had fallen into a little routine. Shirou met Luvia before his morning class, had lunch together and hauled her books around all day before going to train with Lectra. Two days ago, Lectra expressed his desire to join Shirou and Luvia at lunch. The only awkward hurdle had been Lectra's schedule. He attended night classes, which meant their lunch was his breakfast, and sometimes noon was too early for him.

"Blade?" A pair of fingers snapping before his eyes brought him out of his worries. Luvia and Lectra were both giving him an odd look. "I asked you a question three times and you gave me this blank look," Luvia huffed, leaning back in her seat with crossed arms. As if on cue, the muffled rumble of lightning coursed through the building.

"My bad, just trying to figure out a better way to eat with my scarf on my face," he passed off.

"I have an idea," Luvia began, but Shirou already saw it coming.

"I swear if you tell me to take it off, I will, only so that I can gag you with it." The girl made an annoyed "hmph", lifting her shoulders and pouting.

With a mouth half-full of chips, Lectra chimed in. "I've been trying too, Luvia. I train with him daily and I still haven't seen so much as a nose."

"Both of you can stop trying anytime, really wouldn't hurt my feelings any." Shirou had practically given up on lunch. There was no way he would be able to eat without either of the two trying something. Setting his fork down, he offhandedly shoved his food away.

Lectra groaned, resting the side of his face on one hand. "We just want to see. What do you have to hide anyway?"

Shirou blinked, face as vacant as he could make it. "My identity, the one reason why anybody would wear an outfit like this."

"Oh come on. Just admit that you like looking like a stereotypical D&D thief."

Before the thief in question could answer, a hand landed on his shoulder. It was heavy and too large to be anyone he knew. "More like stereotypical idiot."

Turning his head just enough so that his eyes could see who it was, Shirou was met with the vaguely familiar sight of blond hair. Racking his brain for a name, Shirou made an honest half guess. "Alvin, right?"

"Ayaan, a name you'd take care to remember." This was the man who had picked on him the other day when Luvia abandoned him. The situation here was far from anything Shirou might call stable. It was obvious that this brute had ill intentions. With the man's proximity and physical contact, Shirou couldn't activate his circuits without the act coming across as a threat.

Shirou had to make a decision, and quickly. Either assume that Ayaan was here just to talk, or start a fight by preparing for one. After catching a worried glance from Lectra, he made his choice. "People don't really stick in my mind unless they have a good reason to." A strange sense came to him then. There was something else about Ayaan he was forgetting, something important that had happened during their brief interaction.

"I wonder if a good beating would cement my place in your head." A flicked finger rebounded off the top of his head. Luckily, his time around Rin and Illya had made him rather resilient to the act.

"Hey, that reminds me." Turning his body to place his elbow on the table, Shirou moved his arm to rest one side of his face within his hand. "Are you in the Magus Tournament?"

Judging by the stunned expression, the question had caught the man off guard. He then snorted and adorned a dumb looking smirk. "I am, but I'm not a first year, so you likely won't ever get to see me yo-"

"Wouldn't be too sure about that," Shirou cut him off, casually lifting his face from his hand and turning to face forward. "I'm not in the mood to talk or fight right now, but I'll see you during the Magus Tournament." Cool as ice, Shirou lifted one hand and flapped his wrist as if sending the man off.

Shirou could practically hear Ayaan's teeth grinding in frustration. There was the subtle noise of muscle and skin tensing, a signal for Shirou to prepare. He wouldn't have enough time to reinforce himself as much as he wanted, but it would be enough to absorb the first blow and turn the fight around while his reaction remained unexpected. A gun fired in his mind, circuits coming alive to fill the porous space of his body with mana. Shirou's body clenched in expectation of a blow. On cue, the sound of smacking flesh reached his ears, but he didn't feel anything.

There was an aggravated noise of pain from behind him. "What was that for?!"

"You're trying to start fights with other magi in public again. The last time got you your second strike, do you really want to be expelled because you can't cool that thick head of yours?" It was a woman if the voice was any indication and it was enough to jog his memory. When Ayaan had first cornered him a few days ago, a silver-haired girl had been there as well; that had been the important part he had failed to remember.

"But last time was against a guy who could really fight. This guy would only take a second." Shurou furrowed his brow. Did he really appear that feeble? If he could regularly go head-to-head against enforcers and the occasional werewolf, cocky magi shouldn't really be a problem.

There was a rather sultry sounding hum near his right ear. Shirou had to actively repress a shudder as he tried to read what was going on through the eyes of Luvia and Lectra. "We don't know _what_ he might be capable of, be he seems confident enough to ignore you and I entirely." She paused, moving away from his ear. "Just leave him alone for now. You can humiliate him by kicking his ass in public at the tournament, doing it here would only make _you_ look like an idiot."

There was a grumble which was gradually becoming more distant. "You better make it through the first-years so I can smash you to a pulp in front of your friends."

What kind of incentive was that? Or was it some sort of poorly crafted threat? Neither option mattered of course. The chances of Ayaan randomly being set to fight him were extremely low and the man seemed too overconfident to pose a major hurdle.

At the very least, he had left without a confrontation. "Blade, do you know that guy?" Lectra asked quietly in a hushed tone, leaning forward onto the table.

He shook his head. "When Luvia took off from General Fundamentals on Monday, he cornered me before I could leave. I didn't think too much about it, but I guess he's been stewing over it ever since." Following a shrug, he reached forward to reclaim his fries before adjusting himself so that he could start eating. The two of them would be too startled to try anything now.

"You never told me about that," Luvia huffed, keeping a watchful eye on the two as the walked off. "I actually know of them both. The man is Ayaan Turner and the silver-haired woman who took him away is Kiera Eliphas. I've also seen them take part in the Magus Tournament last year. He can manipulate the atmosphere around him while she uses some sort of mental manipulation to break her opponents." Luvia actually shuddered. "She was almost banned from competing after her last competitor committed suicide shortly after losing."

Lectra's eyes became as wide as dinner plates. Shirou found his reaction stranger than the actual event. "She really messed with them that badly?" He sounded surprised, almost like he couldn't believe a magus would be that cold.

Luvia merely nodded. "However, it was deemed that she had little involvement and that his loss in the Tournament was what actually drove him to suicide." Shirou furrowed his brows. If Shirou knew magi, Kiera had likely paid off the officials to disregard her actions and excuse it somehow. Odds were, her opponent had been someone she disliked or was holding her back. For that possible reason, she had purposely gone further and sent him over the edge.

"How does someone defend against mental invasion like that?" Shirou asked, adjusting his scarf to casually stuff a couple fries into his mouth.

Luvia snorted before her face split into a smug grin. "The better question to ask would be how you _can't_ defend against it. There are only a few reasons why an invasion like hers would work." Lifting a hand, she popped up one finger. "One, she and her target have extensive history." She paused for another finger, "Two, they trust one another, or have some sort of connection." The ring finger followed suit, "Or three, the magus' circuits are inferior to her own."

Shirou silently cursed underneath his breath. There were very few people who were able to consider themselves magi who had weaker circuits than him. If he were to face Kiera in the Tournament, he would have to prepare his mind for some sort of attack. "Sounds like it's very limited."

Luvia laughed heartily. "That's why she barely gets into C tier battles." The strange term made him tilt his head. Luvia seemed to catch on immediately without him even asking. "Do you think that magi wait patiently for an entire year to see which one is stronger than the other? There have always been underground tournaments. The only reason tournaments were ever officiated by the Association was because too many inexperienced magi were getting themselves killed in the lawless, unregulated backyard duels."

In the midst of moving to eat more chips, Shirou caught an odd motion from Lectra. Raising her brow slightly, Luvia continued. "Back to your question, while the Magus Tournament doesn't have any official ranking system, competitors have developed a tier system based on a bunch of factors I don't care to remember. To put things into perspective, any enforcer would easily be considered A tier. Magi usually start at D and slowly work upwards as they last longer in the tournament. First years sometimes drop into F tier if they're really awful and very few ever make it into anything higher than C."

Lectra pouted and slumped forward. "So if these tiers are factor based, even if Blade carries me out of the first-year battles, I'll still be a low tier?"

Biting a chip in half, Luvia nodded with a hinted smirk. "Of course. Nobody is _given_ a reputation."

Stealthily making off with more fries of his own, a question leapt to Shirou's mind. "So which tier do you place in?"

Luvia shrugged, using one hand to toss her hair. "Only B; I got caught off guard last year by some kid using nature magecraft. I hadn't realized that the entire arena was becoming a tomb before it was too late." She scowled then, grumbling under her breath about her "low awareness stat."

Lectra rested his head on the table, producing a loud groan. "These fights sound intense. How am I going to be able to keep up?"

"They're even worse in the first-year qualifiers. Those guys are ruthless and with double the magi, there's effectively double the power being thrown around," Luvia pointed out, eliciting another groan from the boy. "But I wouldn't be too worried. Half of the first years can barely cast two spells." Shirou blinked, unfortunately falling into that exact category.

"So while most of the fights are boring, the ones with powerful first-year magi are intense," Shirou surmised. Spearing more lettuce on his fork, he shrugged. "I doubt it will be that bad."

… … …

… … …

When Friday rolled around, Shirou couldn't stop a feeling of excitement from running through his veins. Today he would get to watch and participate in the first-year battles of the Magus Tournament. This year's first-year preliminaries had so many applications that the rounds had to be spread out over two entire days. If Shirou were to win today, he would move on and fight up to three more battles in the same day before facing off in the semi-final and final tomorrow. There were seventy-eight first-year magi teams, but according to Luvia, that number would be halved within the first couple hours. Apparently, most of the first-year magi were eliminated in the first move, inexperience and uncertainty acting as their downfall.

 _"So why do they even bother fighting?" he had asked._

 _"Reputation," Luvia had responded instantly. "Just the knowledge that you were confident enough to sign up for the Tournament is enough to boost your standing as a magus. Even if you're F tier, it means you had the spine to at least try and that's enough to scare some."_

Personally, Shirou couldn't see how that worked. Wouldn't being decimated in a battle against another magus _decrease_ one's reputation? Just another confusing addition to the magus world.

His fist rapped against the wooden door of room 9E. Within a few seconds, Lectra opened the door and offered a smile. It was actually a little surprising. While Lectra had been making small efforts to wake up at a reasonable time and prepare for Shirou's arrival, today he was bright-eyed and borderline ecstatic. "Ready to go kick butt, partner?" As the question ended, he raised his fist and held it in the air.

Catching on, Shirou bumped their knuckles together. He briefly wondered if this was how his old man had felt when he was younger. Even being so immature, Lectra's enthusiasm was contagious and Shirou couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Ready as you are. Remember not to go all out in our first battle. We want to conserve our energy so that we can make it to the semi-finals."

Lectra's arm moved up to scratch the top of his head in the middle of a yawn, baggy hoodie sleeve falling to sit just before the elbow. "I went to sleep pretty early this morning so I'm fully stocked for tonight."

Pausing to check the time on his phone, Shirou motioned with his head. "Let's get going. We still need to get through the pre-fight physical before we can suit up."

… … …

As expected, they both passed the test without a problem. With the aid of magecraft, drug screening was significantly easier and less invasive than the normal human technique. A simple spell analyzed the competitor's blood and revealed if foreign substances were present. While the process usually took a few seconds, Shirou had taken a little longer. Every competitor was expected to wear an official tournament uniform to ensure no hidden weapons were brought within the arena. While conceptual weapons and trinkets were allowed, defensive attire was not. Shirou had argued with the officiator over the issue regarding his identity. After some investigation and testing, his scarf was the only piece which was declared to be fair use. Like any conceptual weapon would have been, his scarf and its abilities were recorded and documented. His scarf was all that he really needed, so Shirou couldn't have been happier over the outcome.

After their physical, they were offered a lengthy explanation on the rules and given suits they were expected to wear. From what Shirou could tell, so long as a person's magecraft didn't blow up the entire building or outright kill their opponents it was fair game. Victory was declared when one team was unable to continue fighting or their wounds were deemed life-threatening, which was decided by a referee. The referee could also stop the duel whenever they so desired. The entire fight was being held in the underground area of the Clock Tower, both so that the noises could be dampened and so it couldn't be stumbled upon by any normal human.

After being given a team number - six - they were led down a long hallway which reeked of sweat and antiseptic, a particularly noxious smell that burned Shirou's nose. Almost a dozen doors down, the guide opened one and instructed them to enter. Once both of Shirou's feet were inside, the door was been slammed shut and locked. As an added precaution, a detection-type bounded field was erected on the other side. Since they weren't supposed to leave until one team lost or forfeited, it was to be expected.

Deciding that it was nothing more than formality, Shirou examined his new surroundings. It was a small room, with a single open doorway at the far end. Sitting above was a sign which would have read "Enter" if it were on. To the left was a small area with two large metal lockers separated by a thin curtain on tracks. To the right sat a small brown couch and coffee table with bottles of water as the centrepiece. Besides these few pieces of furniture, the room was astonishingly bare, with bland grayish walls and equally as unimpressive faux stone tile as the floor. The furnishings were a degree below what could be considered comfortable and thus did little to make the chilly room appear more accommodating.

"Well, this is," Lectra paused to leer around the room while stepping deeper inside, "bland." His reaction pulled a short chuckle from Shirou.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Well, let's get suited up and go watch the other fights. You and I can get a grasp for what things are like." Shirou moved to one of the lockers, briefly checking that the curtain wasn't transparent as he moved it to divide their areas. When they were both on their own sides, the two stripped and squeezed into their given suits. According to the guide, the suits would change colour and design to match the wearer's personality. Such a thing was hardly more than a magecraft parlour trick, but for the magically inept like Shirou, it was pretty neat.

Opening the locker to put away his clothes, he came face to face with himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the locker door. What had been blue and gold spandex, had shifted and altered itself without his knowledge. Similar to the first black layer of his usual outfit, it was skintight and left little to the imagination. The arms and everything below the hips was a deep black. Like a mock breastplate, crimson covered his abdomen and pectorals. The side of his body underneath his arm was actually white, but this contrast was broken just enough by a large line of purple. It was a swoosh, with the large section curling around the back of his thighs and the pointed tips coming to rest just above his belly button. The entire outfit was perfectly symmetrical, whether that was a symbol of his inner mind or just the limitation of the outfit was unknown.

Just like his original suit, the piece was outfitted with end-of-thread protection in brushed silver strips. The cuffs, ankles and neck were all collared with this material. A trace revealed it to be simple steel, but through magecraft, it shifted form to fit his body perfectly.

This was really what his mind looked like? Was he really this simple and uninspired? Well, if that's what he was, he just had to accept it. Closing the door to his locker, he turned his back to the curtain and picked at the cuff on one of his arms. Suddenly, the noise of plastic-coated fabric moving along metal rails made him stiffen. Before he could react, arms were thrown around his torso and a warm body was pressed against his back.

Throwing his arms out to his side, he tried to twist in place to free himself but realized that he was trapped. "Lectra, what the hell are you doing?"

"I just don't know how to thank you any more." His arms squeezed tighter, making things even more uncomfortable. "You've taken the time to train me and you'll willingly fight beside me in the tournament. That's already more than that I've come to expect from most people here." Shirou decided that whatever this was had to end, but the resuming of Lectra's ranting stopped him for a moment longer. "But it's not just that, you actually _enjoy_ talking to me."

Slipping his hand between his body and Lectra's wrist, he roughly wedged his hands away. With their connection severed, Shirou pushed himself forward and spun around to look Lectra over. Words were leaping to his throat, but that was as far as they got. He first noticed his suit. Lectra looked as if he could cause chemical burns. There was a vertical colour gradient which went from a sickly looking olive at the feet to a bright lime near his neck. Bubbles of slightly different colour than the area behind followed the gradient. As they neared his neck, they became smaller and more spaced as if a chemical reaction was producing them at his feet and they were diffusing in the air.

But the appearance of the suit wasn't what had caught Shirou off guard. It was the fact that Lectra was a _girl_. There was no mistaking it. From the differences in the suit's appearance to the subtle bustline measurements, it was clear as day. Now her actions, voice and even personality made sense. Through his confusion and surprise he managed to get out a "you're-"

Lectra tilted his- _her_ head, giving him an odd look. "I'm what?"

"You were a girl this whole time!?" he shouted, taking another step back.

Her head recoiled slightly like the question was entirely unexpected. Suddenly, her face scrunched up in a strange emotion and her voice showed signs of irritation. "Wait, did you think I was a dude?" If Shirou knew women - which he didn't - admitting that he had would only make her mad, but at this point, he couldn't really deny it.

Leaning back, Shirou raised his hands defensively. "Well, with the hair and the voice I just thought that you were a guy who never grew out of his younger years."

The girl slowly crossed both arms over her chest, leaning back and pouting heavily "Why does everyone think I'm a guy? What kind of guy has long hair like this or _tits_?" With her hands, she emphasized and made references to the parts.

Turning his head in embarrassment, Shirou coughed partly. "Well, you _were_ always wearing those big hoodies and some guys like their hair long." Sneaking a glance sideways, he noticed that Lectra's face had taken on a furious shade of red.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could a woman's voice calmly rang out from beyond the doorway. "Attention all viewers and contestants: The first round of this year's Magus Tournament will begin shortly, please be seated."

Huffing to release her anger, Lectra turned and stormed toward the doorway where the now illuminated exit sign was. "We can deal with this later, but don't think for a second that I'll forget."

… … …

… … …

The exit from their waiting room led into a long hallway which extended to both the left and right. The lighting was rather sparse, but even in the darkness, Shirou could see that all the contestants' preparation rooms were connected through similar halls. At the far end on the left side, brighter light streamed through, likely where they were supposed to go.

After following the light at the end of the tunnel, the two entered a contestant seating area which featured rows of movie-theatre like seats. Across from the seats, the wall fell away to reveal a large circular arena with a floor of groomed dirt. The circumference of this arena featured ten-foot tall walls which led into a great domed ceiling that rose an additional thirty feet. Long, curved bars of artificial lighting were set in the joint between the wall and ceiling, filling the arena with a decent amount of light. In Shirou's honest opinion, it was a little gladiatorial. He almost expected half-naked men to stride out into the center at any moment, asking if the audience was entertained.

Something that detracted from the gladiator aesthetic and made the room marginally more civilized was the material making up both the walls and domed ceiling. Rather than any sort of protective material like stone or steel, it was reflective black glass. In fact, if Shirou looked hard enough, he could see himself in the reflection of the polished surface.

Plopping himself into one of the seats, he gripped onto the armrest and closed his eyes. While he had gathered a basic blueprint of the entire Clock Tower days ago, he had never actually examined the rooms in extreme depth. While it was entirely possible for him to scan every individual millimetre of the Clock Tower, the pain associated with such an overflow of information wasn't quite worth the amount of useless knowledge.

Since he would be actively fighting in this area, however, the more information he could gather, the better he could use his environment to his advantage. Building itself up from the bottom, an exact replica of the entire arena filled his mind. He was surprised to find that the reflective glass walls were actually one-way windows. Behind these windows, were rooms with rows of seating similar to the one he was in at that very moment. There were two levels of seating in the arena, and unlike the first level which housed the masses, the second level seated four per room at most. From what he could tell, the second level featured private viewing rooms with their own luxuries not offered to the lower floors.

Based on the position of the fold-up chairs, hundreds of magi were spectating the event. That wasn't all he had managed to recover from the tracing. He also found some of the private rooms on the second floor were absolutely _flooded_ with ambient mana. It was a solid indication that whoever was watching from inside was a powerful magus. The amount of mana being released would put Rin to shame and would even give Illya a run for her money.

Since he couldn't trace people without seeing them directly, he was unable to properly determine the identity of any of them. Deciding that he had gathered all he could with his tracing, the information stream froze and filed itself away. "We've got a lot of people watching us, Lectra. A lot of powerful people, so be on your best behaviour."

"I don't take orders from boys who are going gray before they're even twenty." She huffed, crossed her arms and turned her head away in stubborn defiance.

"Oh come on, don't be like-" Realizing what she said, he looked up toward a strand of gray hair hanging down in front of his head. "So what if my hair is turning gray? I can't stop how my body changes."

Before their conversation could continue, a booming voice echoed out from the center of the ring. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the seventh annual Magus Tournament!" As if the walls were allowing sound through, the roaring noise of clapping echoed throughout the area. Were the magi behind the glass that excited, or was it simply a recording of some type? "The first-year qualifiers have an absurd number of contestants so much of the festivities will be foregone in order to be through them all in a timely matter. Leaping into the action, our first two teams will be setting the pace for tonight. Teams one versus two, if you could both make your way into the arena."

To the sound of applause, four students suddenly strode out of the hall Shirou and Lectra had just moments prior and continued through the bounded field into the ring. As if they were machines, the two teams separated and took their places at opposing ends of the arena, eyeing one another up. From their posture and pacing, they were trying too hard to appear composed and dignified. Not a single one of the contestants had any sort of weapons to speak of, so this was undoubtedly going to be a purely magical fight.

"Let the Tournament begin!"

Idly watching as the four began moving and flinging feeble spells, Shirou leaned closer to Lectra. "I'm sorry I thought you were a guy, it was an honest mistake but I don't think of you as a guy anymore." A soft noise of derision signalled how she was taking things. Within the arena, an explosion appeared and the sound accompanying it rapidly lowered to a more bearable level. The bounded field surrounding the arena must have been actively keeping the volume of its interior in check. "Can we both just agree to leave this until _after_ the Tournament? We can still have fun watching and win our fights as a team." Adjusting himself, he threw out one hand for her to shake. Lectra caught the gesture out of the corner of her eye, pouting as she slowly turned forward.

"Fine, I'll be mad with you after the Tournament, if only so we can win our fight." Due to the strange positioning, their handshake was unnecessarily awkward. The two simultaneously turned their attention to the fight taking place ahead.

"Team One has been eliminated from the Tournament!"

Blinking, Shirou tried to determine what had happened. The two members of the first team were lying unconscious in the dirt, smoke gently rising from their singed clothes. It was over so quickly? It hadn't even been a full minute since the fight started!

"Well I hope our fight is that easy," Lectra mumbled. With a shimmy of the hips, she adjusted herself into a more relaxed position, getting herself out of her temper tantrum pose.

"You know you've just cursed us, right? You don't say stuff like that because it brings out the worst scenario possible." Leaning forward, he watched four adults stride out in formal gray coats. The unconscious team was collected, and the two victors made short bows before heading back toward where they had entered from.

… … …

The next fight was nearly as boring as the first. Two different teams entered, a minute of half-baked fighting ensued and one team was carried out by the officials. So far, none of the contestants had utilized a conceptual weapon or anything besides magecraft. But it was only the first two fights. He couldn't discount the value of the Magus Tournament just yet.

The announcer returned and called for teams five and six. Standing from their seats, Lectra and Shirou casually strode out to the far end of the arena where they waited for their opponent. They were a touch late, but eventually, they walked onto the field. One of their outfits looked as if it were on fire. Red, orange and yellow twisted together from his feet, practically radiating heat with imagery alone. The other wore an outfit entirely in gray. It was a light shade, reminiscent of smoke from a grass fire. Their outfits and appearances almost went entirely disregarded. What Shirou readily noticed was the fact that both of them had conceptual weapons. Immediately, Shirou wanted to throttle Lectra. Like he had predicted, she cursed them into a difficult battle. The two men were both close to Shirou's size and weight but each held glares that threatened to slice him in two. Through their eyes alone, Shirou could tell that they were the type of magi he hated. The self-righteous, infallible type who fell into their own sense of importance and became pompous jerks, just like Kayneth Archibald. That man had been the previous El-Melloi head, slaughtered by Kiritsugu in the Fourth Holy Grail War. The old man had written about the arrogant magus at length within his journal, so Shirou could accurately depict his character without even having to meet him.

Leaning close to Lectra's ear, he offered a quick whisper. "These are both powerful magi, let me do the work and try not to be surprised by what you see."

Not waiting to hear a response, Shirou pictured the firing of a gun and murmured his trademark phrase, " _Trace on_."

Time seemed to slow. Sitting on the sidelines, it had barely been a few seconds before the announcer instructed then to begin. Standing in the middle of the arena, those seconds might as well have been minutes. Murmuring his aria as he traced their weapons, a wealth of data was returned to him. One was a large composite bo staff, made less than two weeks ago and used only by the man ahead of him. It wasn't created by the man himself, but by an older craftsman who had poured his soul into the gift; one Jaques Corvier, as if the name were important. The material was actually far from anything man-made. It was a natural fibre base, turned near indestructible through alchemical means. It was given the special property of manipulation. With the introduction of mana, the staff could bend, extend and contract to the user's will. There were limits of course, but they were more dependant on the user's mana levels than the weapon itself. The cost of manipulation grew exponentially with distance.

The staff was used by the man in gray, the one wearing flames used a strange sort of whip. Rather than rawhide or nylon, it was made of intricate ironwork. Barbed, sharpened metal segments linked to one another for roughly ten feet, ending in a sharpened tip. It had been created months ago by Jaques Corvier as well, enchanted with a very basic spell that could coat the weapon entirely in flames.

Based only on these two weapons, Shirou gained a sort of admiration for their creator. Whoever Jacques Corvier was, he was skilled in all sorts of weaponry and construction methods.

Throughout his tracing, Shirou had been mumbling his tracing aria all while he waited for the announcer to begin the fight. What had only seemed like seconds from the sidelines had become minutes within the arena.

Halfway through the third line, the booming voice returned and commenced the fight. Without hesitating, the two men snapped into position and readied their weapons. Like flicking on a switch, the chain whip ignited and enveloped itself in brilliant red flame from handle to tip. A flick of the wrist sent a roiling, clanking wave through the entire weapon, making a higher-pitched clang at the tip.

"Lectra, take the one with the whip, it might look scary but just keep him at range and he can't hit you," Shirou ordered, settling his sights on the one in gray.

"But-"

"Just do it!" Opening his hands, two blades formed within. They were Elizabeth's blades, only altered to change their coloration and modify their shape somewhat. Instead of being emerald green and silver, they were entirely black, like corrupted artifacts. The curve expected of them had been removed, creating straight blades with a diagonal tip. As an added precaution, he spent a little extra mana to create his gloves. If his weapons were destroyed, he might be able to use his hands for a surprise tactic. Lunging forward toward the man in gray made him realize he was being targeted. Like a rifle, the man pointed his staff toward Shirou and began using its extension feature to keep the redhead at bay. At the end of every extension, an explosion of mana resonated from the tip. It was likely just to provide additional impact power, however, it also meant that Shirou would be unable to parry the blows effectively. Having to focus on dodging the incoming attacks, the boy was practically halted in his tracks.

Shirou couldn't gain an inch, as each time he stepped forward the end of the staff shot out to attempt to take his legs off. Deciding to use the time productively, he finished his aria. Sparing a half glance back toward his partner, Shirou noticed that they were both doing the same thing: dodging strikes and stalling for time.

But unlike the other team, Shirou had an easy way to combat this tactic. Allowing the blades to dematerialize, the blueprinted copy of the bo staff formed within his grasp. Even from this distance, Shirou could visibly see the surprise written on his opponent's face. Twirling the light weapon in his hand, Shirou batted away an extended strike, roughly twisting his weapon back to deliver his own extended jab. Forcing his aggressor to dodge gained him more ground, and to gain more Shirou only had to repeat his actions. With reinforcement, he was both stronger and faster than his opponent.

The fight was nothing like the werewolves, these men were flies compared to Bazett or Elizabeth. With four parries, he was nearing the gray man's guard. Shirou was a second away from delivering a decisive strike when a cry from behind instinctively forced him to look back. Lectra had been put on the ropes as well, and she was only a second away from being lashed across the side by the flaming whip. Lectra had allowed the whip user to get too close and she would have to fight him off to gain ground. Their time in training had let Shirou realize that she was abysmal in actual physical combat. She needed help, or else she would be taken out in the first fight.

There was no way to be in two places at once, but did he have to? Shirou could exploit the whip's most well-known trait from a distance. Pulling a straight sword from his collection, Shirou created a projectile and set it to impale itself directly in the ground beside Lectra.

As anticipated, the chain whip struck the foreign object and wrapped itself around the small weapon several times. Essentially, the man had locked his weapon in place. The two of them seemed to be surprised at the outcome, but Lectra was quicker to move, throwing an amplified grenade right into the man's chest. A cry of pain preceded a large explosion of crackling ether.

"One member of team five has been eliminated," came the booming announcer. So while they might have appeared formidable, a meagre blast of ether was enough to knock them unconscious. To Shirou, it revealed that either they were inexperienced with combat, or they simply had more bark than bite.

He couldn't watch Lectra's fight any longer. Turning to resume his own battle, Shirou found that the man in gray had created some distance. It wasn't a problem though. Shirou was much more experienced with his opponent's own weapon so he could easily move into striking range.

Or so he thought. The man in gray waved his hands, arms glowing a bright red as the light from his magical crest shined through the thin suit. With words he couldn't discern in a language he was unfamiliar with, the man cast a spell. Immediately, the very ground in the arena began to quake. Without much more warning, the floor around Shirou rapidly shot upward. Large spires of rock shot through the dirt around him in a circle to create a small earthen cell a dozen feet tall. Expecting what was next, Shirou pulled up the bo staff in his hands and wedged it between the walls to act as a bar.

As anticipated, another chant set the walls churning. The spired tips twisted inwards, closing off his escape above. The walls attempted to compress but the bo staff held them back - for now.

If Shirou didn't figure out an escape route quickly, he would be crushed by the stone. Taking a second to think, he tried to determine which item in his arsenal would work best for the job. The creaking and groaning of the staff did little to tide the oncoming sense of panic. Like a sapling in a rabbit snare, it was slowly being bent into a perfect "C" shape.

The option with the highest probability of success was likely Bazett's gloves. Unlike his, they had special runes imbued within the palm that could essentially act as a hammer against the unyielding stone. With a flurry of golden-blue sparks, the gloves on his hands were replaced with seemingly identical ones. Looking his right hand over for confirmation, Shirou nodded to himself and channelled mana into the material. Deciding that it was everything or nothing, he reinforced the runic sigils and continued to pour an excessive amount of mana into the gloves. At this point, activating them would cause an unstable explosion - but it would hopefully be enough to break through the rock.

Opening his palm wide, Shirou slammed his hand into the surface, simultaneously activating the sigil. There was a flash of heat and pain as the runic pseudo-circuitry superheated and expelled all of its energy at once. As the explosive impact of mana ruptured the rock wall, the pain continued. With the rock, the glove had followed suit. Like shards of glass, high-velocity leather shrapnel tore apart his hand as if he had dunked it into razor wire.

However, his plan had succeeded. The rock cracked and splintered before exploding violently outward. Dust and debris spewed across the arena, peppering the entire side he exited on with pebbles and small stones. Not wanting to be trapped once more, Shirou dove from the earthen tomb and rolled to his feet. Not even a half second later, the staff inside snapped and the tomb collapsed like a vicious iron maiden.

Sparing a glance at his hand was undoubtedly the wrong decision. The sight was harrowing, charred flesh and large oozing gouges. The pain had been intense before, but now that his body realized what sort of shape the appendage was in, it was enough to make him feel faint.

"If I plan to push my projections like that again, I'd better make sure I'm not wearing them." Shaking his hand gently as if that would rid him of the pain, he refocused on the duel. Multiple earthen spires sat between Lectra and the man in gray. Based off the mana-laden cracks on their surface, Lectra had been trying to keep him back, but he was simply blocking the attacks with stronger barriers.

It seemed as if Shirou was the center of attention, however. Lectra and the man in gray had stopped their fight to look at him with incredulity. The redhead paused and looked down at his feet, spreading his hands. "Why are you both looking at me like that, is there something on my face?" Using his good hand, he brushed his cheeks in an attempt at clearing whatever might have been there.

The man in gray returned to himself much faster than Lectra, spinning on his heels and twirling the staff in his hands before slamming the base on the arena floor. The ground shuddered once more, the earth beneath the arena shifting in response.

So the staff wasn't simply a weapon, but it was also a conduit for higher magecraft. This magus was using it to rend the earth. While Shirou could likely copy the technique with swords instead of rock, such an action might be a little _too_ conspicuous in an arena surrounded by magi.

Projecting the same staff in his good hand, Shirou leapt off his feet and forced mana into the material. The weapon extended and blasted the excess mana out of the grounded end. Like a strange pogo stick, he was propelled through the air toward his former tomb away from the rumbling ground. Not even a second later, the entire area ruptured with spiked earthen shards. Starting from the magus and ending just beyond where Shirou had been standing, was a line of ominous jagged rock.

Landing on top of his erstwhile earthen home, Shirou allowed the staff to dematerialize. Putting his hands in position, a bow appeared out of thin air. It was a simple English longbow made of yew with traditional sinew for the drawstring. It was familiar to him, selected due to the organic nature being significantly more receptive to reinforcement. The arrows he decided to project were altered to remove their broadhead, instead being capped with a flattened dense metal to keep the balancing consistent.

Drawing the bowstring and confirming his target was near instantaneous. Projecting an arrow perfectly in place on the drawstring and pouring energy into it was just as fast. Just like Bazett's gloves earlier, the arrow was reinforced and energized to the point where it threatened to explode in his face. When its true limit was reached, the bowstring was released and the process repeated two more times. The bowstring had rubbed against raw flesh of his hand as he fired, sending searing pain through his arm which was only exacerbated by his speed. Thankfully, his injury hadn't destabilized his accuracy and the arrows flew true.

Like a machine gun, three arrows were hailed down on his opponent. Upon contact, each one exploded violently to produce thick clouds of smoke that was extremely dense in mana. Crackles of magical energy formed as blue flashes of light within, revealing just how condensed the mana had been.

The intensity of the explosion had actually surprised Shirou. This had been his first time overloading arrows since he had been given his father's magic crest and the increase in power was obvious.

Before the smoke had even settled, the announcer's voice rang through the arena. "After an unexpectedly exciting battle, team six has come out victorious!" As the meaning reached Shirou's ears, his shoulder reflexively slouched forward and his breath heaved out. With the fight ended, adrenalin made its quick exit from his veins and the pain in his hand steadily grew apparent.

A door opened in one end of the arena, pouring several officials out into the ring. There were six people in total, pairs of two with stretchers heading toward team five and single officials approaching Shirou and Lectra.

Leaping down from the rock tomb, Shirou looked over his hand with a greater degree of scrutiny. While overcharging Bazett's gloves had caused most of the damage, trying to fire a bow with the injury certainly hadn't done him any favours. Much of the palm on his right hand had been flayed by the blast, leaving bloodied red flesh and muscle behind. His fingers had suffered the worst, further torn apart by the recoil of the bowstring. He could actually see the bone on his index and middle fingertips, but Avalon was working hard to seal up the area. Besides the pain, he would be fine in a few hours. In his mind, he called for the dematerialization of his projections,

The official approaching him was an older man, balding with wizened gray strands forming a horseshoe around his shiny scalp. Like his colleagues, he wore a bland gray coat that covered much of his body. "That was a damn good fight, kid. Haven't seen a surprise like that out of a nameless first-year in a long time." With his aria fully completed, information about the man compiled itself behind Shirou's eyes automatically. He was fifty-three, one hundred seventy-eight pounds and almost exactly six feet tall. His lungs indicated that he was a heavy smoker, and one of his kidneys was failing. Estimates on his lifespan sat around the fifteen-year mark.

After tracing so many people, the data gathered became more exact and specific. Afflictions of the body, failing organs and even scar tissue revealed itself. His trace was becoming more of a deep-tissue investigation rather than a cursory scan of physique. As all good things did, this development had its problems.

When it came to Illya, ignorance was bliss. She was dying, rapidly. The more seniors and ill people he was able to trace, the more their symptoms correlated. While she was only nineteen, the condition of her body was similar to that of the man standing before him. Even if his estimates had a seventy-five percent error margin, she had ten years left at the most.

If he was only able to refine his projections more, if he could only make Avalon last longer, he could-

A hand was waved in front of his face. "Hey kid, you want me to fix your hand?" Shirou blinked, mind returning to him abruptly. The man held a concerned smile, holding out one hand for Shirou to place his into.

From what Shirou knew of healing magecraft, it required an incredible amount of mana without a unique trait. It could only be considered efficient when the two parties had a connection of some type. Whether that was spiritual or physical, connecting in any sort of way threatened his anonymity. "No thanks, I'll be fine." Moving the hand in front of his face, Shirou squinted to watch the flesh slowly knit itself over his finger bones.

"Alright, you know your own limits I suppose." The old man stuck around for a couple of seconds, interested in the unnatural healing almost as much as Shirou was.

… … …

After the arena was cleared of combatants, different attendants entered the arena to restore the terrain. Within ten minutes, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Once their condition was certified, Lectra and Shirou returned to their seats at the side of the arena. Moving to the back row, Lectra sat down and immediately grabbed onto his injured hand. Wincing as she yanked it toward herself, she offered a look of agitated concern.

"Why didn't you let them fix your hand? Doesn't this hurt?" she asked, looking over his hand with macabre intrigue.

"It certainly does when someone squeezes it as tight as you are." Carefully with his other hand, he peeled her fingers off and gently moved the injured limb back onto his lap.

Lectra seemed to realize what she had done, offering a scorned "oh, sorry." She was silent for a few seconds before suddenly brightening. She sat on her legs in her seat and gripped him by the shoulder. "We won the first fight! Against guys who were actually tough! I took one down myself, too!" With each exclamation, she shook him harder.

Being shaken by someone wasn't really new to him, so her excitement was simply laughed off. "You did good. You didn't have to use your familiars either, so that secret is still to our advantage."

She seemed to glow at the compliment. "I might have been good, but you were _awesome_. You were so fast and you copied that one guy's staff and protected one for me while you were fighting the other!" Lectra continued her storytelling with flamboyant hand motions to reference attacks or the positioning of everyone on the field. In the midst of her story, the fourth duel began. Just like the two fights before theirs, none of the fighting magi had weapons, and it was over before he even realized.

So Luvia was right for once. First-year fights really were boring.

… … …

While the battles carried on ahead, Shirou idly conversed with Lectra and watched his own hand repair itself. Watching the first rounds meant he was able to see every potential team in the tournament this year. Sprinkled throughout the average, weak magi were actual formidable opponents even stronger than the two Shirou and Lectra had gone up against. Only these powerful few were in possession of conceptual weapons and after thirty-nine battles, he had seen all he needed. Shirou had no idea when they were required to fight, so waiting seemed to be their only option. With more skilled members fights would start taking longer, so he decided to head back toward their room so they could relax and have a drink of water.

Gauging the condition of his hand, there was a sixty percent chance that he would be ready for their next fight. Sitting on the couch, Lectra kneeled in front of him and grabbed onto his wrist, much more softly this time. "How are you doing this?" she asked with concern, looking the appendage over multiple times. It was far from perfect regeneration, but his bones were hidden and the flesh surrounding the area had reformed itself to appear less like a Halloween skeleton. Every motion still hurt, but he was used to that by now.

How was he to explain that his hand was casually rebuilding itself after nearly being blown off? In the middle of his thoughts, an idea struck him. With his other hand, he flared his fingers and wiggled them a bit, saying "magic" in the most whimsical voice he could manage.

Lectra blinked, letting his hand fall painfully from her grasp. "Your circuits aren't active, don't try and lie to me."

Huffing with slight annoyance, Shirou positioned his hand so that it was comfortable. "Does it really matter how it's happening? It just is, so let's leave it there."

"It's just that I've never seen a hand rebuild itself without magecraft before is all, sorry." Picking up a bottle of water, she strode across the room toward the locker, gently opening the door and wiping away something on her face. The crack of crumpling plastic followed as she took a long drink. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she spoke in an unnaturally quiet voice. "Do you think we'll make it out of the first-year qualifiers?"

That was a difficult question to answer. Some of the teams he had witnessed were enough to put _him_ on edge. While he had already developed strategies to counter each one, nothing was for certain. "We have a good chance."

"But there's a chance we could lose."

"There's always a chance-"

"It's me, isn't it? I'm the one who's dragging you down. The only reason I wasn't taken out in that fight was because you saved me. If your opponent had focused on you while you were distracted rather than running away, we might have lost." She turned to face him, face set rigid and eyes devoid of their natural joy. Lectra usually had a constant smile and this serious expression did not suit her at all.

Biting the inside of his lip, Shirou set his brow and offered a strange look. In reality, she was right. If he didn't have his scarf, he wouldn't have been able to pull off such a lie. "What do you mean? We're teammates, we look out for each other, that's all it was." He stood and gently fanned his hands. The action sent a flash of pain into his body from his injured hand, but he tried to play it off. "I might have helped, but it was only because I could. Remember that you have just as many eliminations as I do, so we're still even."

The girl looked into his eyes, searching for the truth hidden within for some time. Eventually, the happiness he was used to began to trickle back into her features. "You're right, and I'll do my best to beat you!"

… … …

"It's not illegal only due to a technicality."

A man sitting at the table slammed both hands down, standing upright with fury written on his features. He was a tall, wiry man with back-length raven hair and a bird-like nose that took prominence on his ghastly skin. "That's bullshit. A kid nobody has ever heard of shows up and takes down one of the B tier first-year teams without breaking a sweat?"

"Interestingly enough by using their own weapons," a much smaller, calmer woman added. She was blonde with sharp, picture-perfect features. It was more like she was designed by an artist than born into a family.

"Which makes his victory and participation in the Tournament entirely legal. He went through the screening process same as any other competitor. The only item recorded as being brought with him was the scarf covering his face." A composed looking woman in glasses gently laid out pieces of paper on the table, spreading them out and reading the information off. "Nothing more than some appearance disruption runes and durability enhancement."

"Are you telling me he made identical copies of mystic codes using magecraft, copies which had the abilities of the original?" the raven-haired man asked, glowering harshly.

"So it would seem," the blonde commented, leaning her head back over the chair in obvious boredom.

"This is all trivial and frivolous." Every member around the table turned to look toward the brown-haired woman standing at the head. She had features which were rather plain in comparison to the blonde. The simplicity had its own attraction, however. With smooth brown hair tied back into a ponytail, she took on the image of absolute no-nonsense. The air around her seemed to still and chill by several degrees just because of her mere presence. Her eyes opened, revealing plain but controlling brown eyes. "The Observatory says nothing about him and until it does, I don't see a problem with his attendance and participation."

The raven-haired man parted his lips, a vein on his forehead making itself known. It was taking an incredible amount of will to tame his anger, and it showed. "Madame Vice Director, I do not mean to argue with your decision-"

"If that is your intention, then you won't finish that sentence, Vernier. You have already spent a considerable amount of influence pairing your son with his selected partner." Her eyes narrowed, daring the man to challenge her decision.

The raven-haired man, Vernier, straightened. "My humble apologies, Vice Director. I seem to have let my emotions get the better of me." Swallowing, he straightened and settled calmly into his chair. "I won't let it happen again."

The woman turned her head away from him. 'See to it that you don't."

… … …

… … …

Flexing his fingers, Shirou turned his hand over a few times. Everything still hurt to move and it was still composed of skinned red flesh, but it was good enough for the next fight. Clenching his hand tentatively, he found that the stinging pain was a reminder _not_ to overload the projections he was wearing.

While waiting, Shirou ran over the conceptual weapons he had been able to extract from the other competing mages. A staff which amplified fire-type magecraft, a small, seemingly average dagger which could deflect moderate-power magecraft, a rapier that could fire beams of damaging light when thrust and a spear which returned to the user after being thrown. Those were all of the conceptual weapons he had managed to gather anyway. Plenty of other magi had brought basic weaponry into the battle. While each one had been recorded, they weren't nearly as important.

At the very least, Shirou had a few more swords to use now. No longer did he have to rely on Elizabeth's weapons or those rusted blades he had gathered from the Fuyuki history museum.

Come to think about it, there was a location he had been neglecting that would likely have exactly what he was looking for: The British Museum. A collection of relics from the European medieval age would be littered throughout. While they might be in the same condition as that crumbling blade in the Fuyuki museum, just having some more variety would be nice.

"Which team do you think we're going to fight next?" Lectra asked, tugging him by his good wrist. Shirou idly followed her through the doorway toward the competitor seating area.

"Hard to say. If we're lucky we'll fight one of those weaker magi like team two or nineteen. If we're unlucky, we might have to fight team fifty-one or thirty-two." They rounded the corner, finding the spectator area actually seating four people.

Shirou recognized them immediately. One set of two was the aforementioned team thirty-two and the other two were members of a weaker team, number fourteen. Team thirty-two comprised of the users of both the magecraft-parrying shield and the thrusting rapier. This was one of the teams which Shirou actually had his doubts on defeating. They were as strong as one might expect for being inexperienced, first-year magi. In fact, they were likely more powerful than expected.

As they took notice of Shirou and Lectra exiting, the rather short man who used the rapier waved him over. "Hey Six, that was a good fight between you and Five." So it was common to refer to one another through numbers? Deciding it was in his favour to try and fit in, Shirou decided to do the same. The man who spoke to him was rather plain, easily lost in a crowd. Average features beneath black hair with black eyes behind black-rimmed glasses.

Before Shirou could even open his mouth, Lectra leapt in front of him. "You were watching us fight the whole time? Where were you?"

Blinking a few times in surprise, the man raised his hands in surrender and chuckled with closed eyes. "We weren't watching per-se, that might have been an improper choice of words."

A black man from his side leaned forward to rest on the chair ahead. "What he means to say, is that we heard you kicked Five's ass so hard, they want to leave the Clock Tower."

"Really? Such a little thing like losing the Magus Tournament would lead them to that decision?" Shirou asked, stopping to lean against the corner of the wall.

A stoic dark-haired woman with deeply tanned skin pushed glasses onto her face. "Thirty-Two exaggerates everything it seems: Five is upset, but they surely aren't renouncing their magus status." Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair.

From behind, a buff man with short ginger hair draped his arms over the seat next to her. "Sometimes exaggeration in a story is a good thing, Ivy."

Closing her eyes, she scrunched up her face as if she had just swallowed a frog. "Exaggeration is one thing, outright lying is another."

Shirou cleared his throat, indicating that he was already growing tired of the banter. "So why are you both here? It obviously isn't to watch the other fights because if that was the case you would have been sitting here with us earlier."

His bluntness caught everyone by surprise, including Lectra who gave him an uncertain look. Thirty-Two's partner, an averagely sized black man with cleanly cropped, short gray hair offered little more than a smile. "We both wanted to talk to _you_ of course."

"You mean _us_?" Lectra asked with the subtle hopefulness of a puppy pouncing on the glass at the pound.

"No, we mean _Blade_ ," the woman with black hair declared blatantly. Dramatically, Lectra collapsed on her knees, whining about her lack of recognition. Her lamentation went unnoticed by the other members present.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, looking between all four. If need be, he could take them all on - but he would need to activate his reality marble if he wanted better than a forty percent chance of victory. Only, that would cause all sorts of other problems. "Is this just a talk, or is it a _talk_?"

"We're not here to bump you off if that's what you mean. The four of us are just really interested in your style." The dark haired man from Thirty-Two leaned back in his seat, getting agreeing nods from the other three people present.

Keeping his eyes narrowed, Shirou pushed his shoulder off the wall to stand at the ready. "I'm missing the intention here."

The two teams looked at one another for confirmation, or to see which one of them would ask the question. The black man decided to bite the bullet, talking after a great sigh. "We want help."

Shirou paused, turning his head and running the words over in his head. Even Lectra had stopped whining as the confusion took over. "What do you mean _help_? You can't expect me to join the fight with you."

lvy shook her head, throwing strands of black hair in every direction. "From what we've heard, you can create mystic codes purely out of magecraft."

"We want in." The dark-haired man finished for her, leaning forward to give him a rather desperate look.

Shirou straightened, giving the two teams the most bewildered look he could muster. "You want me to create conceptual weapons for you to bring into the Magus Tournament so that you can effectively cheat and come out victorious."

Ivy nodded, and the rest followed. "Very bluntly put, but yes."

"With no consideration that either of you might end up as our opponent in the Tournament, or that doing such a thing might get us both removed or even expelled from the Clock Tower?" Shirou surmised their plan and pointed out the myriad number of flaws with less than ten seconds worth of thought. While he might have been young, he wasn't as foolish as these people apparently. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

The buff ginger stood up abruptly, pointing one pickle finger toward Shirou in obvious threat. "It's not stupid at all! You have no damn chance of making it to the finals, so you should just help us out instead."

Rolling his eyes, Shirou leaned back against the wall. "And what should I do when the two of you reach the finals? Offer one my aid and leave the other to rot? If you haven't determined that yet, you've really not thought any of this out." Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Shirou could see the golden gleam of Avalon fading.

There was silence as the two rival teams looked at one another, desire to win and suspicion of betrayal taking over what little rational thought they both had. Almost on cue, the announcer echoed through the arena. "Team six and team sixty-four! Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, because the notorious team six is stepping up to the plate!"

Grunting as he kicked off the wall again, Shirou nodded toward the ring. "Saved by the bell."

… … …

… … …

Settling into the cushioned folding seat, Waver made himself comfortable. Being a Lord granted him the occasional perk. In this case, it was access to what was essentially an "owner's box" of the Tournament arena. It had a private bar, televisions and a seating area above ground. It was only accessible to him and-

"The boy you granted a letter of recommendation to is up to fight next, isn't that right, brother?" Reines El-Melloi Archisorte. The woman who essentially held his life in her perfectly manicured hands. While young, she was a girl of incredible power and status, only lacking the experience and knowledge to put any of it to good use. Waver himself was the exact opposite, lacking any power to put his experience and prowess to use. Together, they made half of a perfect Lord. Half, because their opinions were usually counter to one another.

"Haruto ' _Blade_ ' Takahashi, yes." Anticipating that the conversation would be a stressful one, he took up a cigar and placed it between his lips. Below, the man in question and his partner moved into position. Across from them stood a team of average power - sixty-four. If the first fight was anything to base judgement on, Shirou wouldn't break a sweat.

"That name sounds familiar," she hummed, settling herself into the chair beside him before crossing her legs. "It must be close to a name from one of those silly video games you play." The smile she offered was sickeningly sweet, enough to make him worry over its implications. "You never told me why you recommended such an unknown magus."

Grumbling, Waver procured a lighter and held it to the tip of his cigar. "If you had been here for his first battle, you would have realized his potential."

Offering a sharp glare, he was forced to turn his head to match it. She was an absolutely stunning woman, with a face that reminded her of Saber, although the childish features were all replaced with righteous, sharpened ones. Thin, accusing lips and a pointed nose beneath vigilant emerald green eyes all surrounded by perfectly straight platinum blonde hair. While she might remind him of Saber in basic features, the two were nothing alike. Reines had the air of an autocratic aristocrat while Saber was much more regal with confidence, composure and charisma oozing out of her every pore. Their clothing choices conveyed the characteristic divergence further. Taking on a navy blue coat with modern black accents concealing the threads, Reines opted to wrap a luxurious cashmere shawl over her shoulders, tying it at her bust. She was a woman of excessive extravagance, and it showed. "Mind you, the board members and I were just discussing your newest apprentice mere moments ago."

Raising one eyebrow, his interest was piqued. "What about?"

"Whether or not he should be declared a sealing designate," she replied simply, watching the beginning of the fight below her. "I don't know if you were aware or not, but Blade has the uncanny ability to replicate mystic codes perfectly, their abilities intact and all. Not only that but unlike any sort of projection magus before him, they can be made at range and even turned into projectiles."

So the staff members were able to gather that much about him through their brief contact? Dirty rats."Then you can understand why I extended a letter or recommendation."

"I can indeed, brother. However, why have you not taken direct control over his tutelage?" The question came so casually but the meaning caught him off guard entirely.

Breaking up his response was rapid, machine-gun like explosions from Shirou's arrows. While soundless, the flashes of light and thumps of pressure still came through. Within seconds, the entire arena was clouded with smoke and free-floating mana. "You want me to instruct him personally?"

"Why not? You took on Flat Escardos and that strange Gray woman, not to mention _Beast Boy_." Turning her attention from the fight, she offered that sickening smile once more. "You could have a regular everyday band of misfits."

Facing forward and taking a draw on his cigar made him look composed, but he was actually panicking. It was like that night on Fuyuki Bridge against Archer all over again. He didn't know what to do, and every plan in his mind ended with gory death. He couldn't formulate a reason as for why he _shouldn't_ take the boy on. Although, he had one last-ditch effort in ensuring Shirou remained out of his hands. "As you wish, but on one condition." He paused, considering his wording. "He must win the first-year qualifier and claim one of the top three positions within the Magus Tournament."

She hummed, peering through the clearing smoke. The boy in question was fending off two people at once with surprising ease, dual wielding swords with unprecedented expertise. His partner, the girl in green, seemed to be biding her time, likely because her magecraft affected too broad an area to hit enemies only. "Rather strict requirements, no?"

Tapping his cigar in an ashtray, Waver billowed out a cloud of smoke. Below, Blade disarmed the two other magi and wrapped one up with the chain whip from his first battle. Although it wasn't on fire, it was enough to disable the woman. After watching him fight for the second time now, Waver had noticed that the boy always tried his best to keep lethality to a minimum. He could have gutted both of these inexperienced magi like fish but instead, he chose to disable them with a whip, or knock them unconscious with a palm thrust to the skull.

With both magi disabled, the announcer stated one team's defeat and declared team six as the victor. "We might both be surprised."

… … …

… … …

Their battles weren't overly difficult, but each was certainly longer than the last. They had gone through two other teams and made it out with little in the way of injuries. Their stamina was a different matter entirely. Lectra was laid out on the couch with the back of one hand resting atop her head while she tried to catch her breath.

"One more fight today, do you think you have that much left in you?" Shirou asked, kneeling to her level beside her head.

She lifted her hand, giving him a bewildered look. "How are you not even a little tired?" Weakly, she tried to push his face away.

Chuckling, he stood and stretched. "I've done a lot of training and I like to stay fit. To be fair though, my mana reserves are pretty low."

Groaning, she grabbed onto his arm and yanked him down. "I'm the exact opposite so let me give you some of mine. Not like I'm going to use much anyway." Her right hand gripped onto his while her left manipulated a clump of ether. Like a twisted art demonstration, the formless ball of energy turned into something resembling a leech. Latching onto Lectra's bare hand, a slow stream of mana began to flow from her reserves to his. It was slow and inefficient, but his reserves weren't very big and they had plenty of time until their next fight.

"I want to give you a couple of things that might help out in the next fight. They're a lot better against single targets. Your magecraft is strong, but it might catch me in the blast." In his mind, the blueprints for the various bits of jewelry Octavia wore appeared. "They work just like a magic crest, run mana through them and the spell with actualizing."

Sitting up now, Lectra continued transferring mana. "If you think it will help," she shrugged, looking up at him with surprisingly hopeful eyes.

With a little mana, the jewelry formed itself around her fingers and neck. Now, gleaming gold and gemstones stood out from the varied greens of her suit. She made a shocked noise as it appeared, visibly flinching as they simultaneously tightened to her sizes. "How can you do all of this?"

The question made him laugh, which only confused her more. "This is the only thing I _can_ do," he admitted, scowling in frustration beneath his scarf. "Magi like you can cast a whole variety of spells from every school of magecraft, but I can't. This is the only sort of spell I can manage."

"But that doesn't seem like such a bad thing. You can create anything and everything with enough mana, right?" Lectra's enthusiasm was growing, and a dangerous gleam began in her eyes.

Shirou carefully scratched an itch on the top of his head with his still-healing hand. "I suppose so. I haven't really tried since I don't have the reserves for anything that isn't a weapon of some sort."

"So _theoretically_ , you could create a person?"

"No I-" he paused suddenly to consider the question. His projection skill was refined enough to replicate a relic of the Fae, Avalon. Could he, with enough mana, genuinely replicate another living being? That was a very strange question, but the amount of mana required would likely be ludicrous. "I've actually never thought about it to be honest."

The girl made a simple "huh" and looked off to the side distantly. A few more awkward seconds of silence passed before Shirou cleared his throat and Lectra released his hand with the barest hint of a blush. "It won't be long until the next fight. If we win this one, we move on to the semi-finals."

"And then after that, we fight two more times tomorrow and separately move into the real Tournament," Lectra finished for him, standing up with some excitement.

"Exactly, and since this is our last fight of the day, we don't have to hold anything back." Stretching both arms above his head, Shirou cracked his back audibly while Lectra moved toward her locker once more. "Before then, I'm going to catch a quick nap. Wake me up if something important happens."

"You want me to be your alarm clock?" she asked, turning on her heels. Shirou gave her a short nod as he collapsed on the couch she had just been on. Projecting his cape and using the hood as a blindfold, he closed his eyes and settled in. There was a growl of frustration from the girl, but he took that as a yes.

… … …

… … …

"Teams six and fifty-one to the field!" Trudging out of the hallway, Shirou yawned and gave his arms a few stretches for good measure. He had only managed to sleep a half hour before being called, but that was better than nothing. On the way out, he activated his circuits and cast all the lines of his aria.

Taking their familiar place at the far side of the ring, Shirou gave his hand a quick look over. It was practically fully healed now. While the skin was still a little pink and sensitive, it no longer hurt to move or grab objects.

Turning to Lectra, he offered a strategic whisper. "Those rings I gave you each represent one of four elements and the necklace represents ether. You're just going to have to experiment because I can't explain the full range of use in terms you'll understand, just look at the ring and try to figure out which one is which." Shirou paused to cast a brief glance toward their opponents. "The necklace is the only piece that doesn't have a doe attached to it. It has to be used together all at once with the rings in an ultimate attack. Only use them all as a last resort, alright?" Lectra nodded hastily at his poor instructions, looking over the new tools with uncertainty.

Turning to face forward, Shirou cracked his knuckles. From his time watching the other teams, Shirou could claim without a doubt that Fifty-One was the most dangerous team in the first-year qualifiers. One member of the team was a dark-skinned female pyromancer and the other was a lithe spearman who utilized magecraft to boost his physical abilities. This was the other team in possession of conceptual weapons, specifically the flame sceptre and the spear which returned to the user whenever thrown. The girl's outfit had a very detailed graphic of a Phoenix rising from a pit of flame. The man's outfit started with black as a base, but it was covered in intricate Celtic symbols and designs.

Shirou ran plans and tactics over in his head. He could go head-to-head with the lancer, but it would leave Lectra open to deal with the pyromancer. There was no possible way she would hold up against a magus of that calibre, so he would need to distract them both somehow.

Then again, who said he was alone in this fight? "Lectra, you remember _Zerg Rush_?"

The two made eye contact and a brief second of confusion popped into her eyes before a malicious smile spread across her face. "Plain or hybrid with _Carpet Bombing_?"

"I'll leave that decision up to you," he nodded, waiting for the announcer to begin the round. As it had been for most fights, as soon as the echoing voice started to speak, both teams advanced at a sprint. Shirou moved himself to stand between the two enemies and Lectra, acting as a blockade as she began speaking lines of French.

Elizabeth's blackened swords appeared in each hand, onyx surfaces gleaming in the artificial lighting. Rather than simply being a different colour, however, they were fundamentally changed. Rather than shiny black birds of prey for the crossguard, the magic-repelling shield from Thirty-Two took their place. Before Lectra could finish her aria, Shirou was already under fire. A spear nearly took out his right shoulder and a wave of searing blue flame threatened his entire left side. Deciding that the spear was easier to handle, he darted to the right to avoid the inferno. Slipping underneath the thrown spear, Shirou inverted one blade and caught the weapon by its body within the cross guard.

While Shirou really should have been expecting it, he was taken a little off guard when the spear suddenly shot backwards. The bladed tip caught the guard of Shirou's sword and sent the weapon flying from his hand. Obviously, team fifty-one was more tactile than he had expected. With his remaining blade, Shirou reflected a wave of flame, sending it harmlessly in a direction devoid of people. As the pyromancer prepared another gout of flame, a rumbling throughout the arena brought a smile beneath Shirou's scarf.

Like a volcanic geyser, the floor split open at random points and began spewing thousands of baseball-sized ether clumps into the air. Like water, the clumps splashed across the ground with electronic chittering noises. The two members from Fifty-One immediately backed off, but the pyromancer took control of the situation. Shirou watched the woman channel a great amount of mana into her staff, swishing it to and fro to throw waves of flame along the ground. As the searing blaze touched the sentient ether clumps, they exploded violently with shrill cries. The heat from the flames was enough to make Shirou and the ether familiars back off, but a quick thought came to mind. His projections in the Tournament didn't have to end at weaponry, he could put on his proper outfit to keep the blaze at bay. While the ether clumps burnt away in the flames, his outfit appeared in a spray of blue-gold sparks.

"Take on the spearman, I'll get the pyromancer!" he called out to Lectra, who made a noise of agreement. Immediately the two changed positions and Shirou projected the bo staff from his first battle, using it to launch himself high into the air. While falling, Shirou hastily projected his bow and fired dozens of arrows around the pyromancer before focusing directly on her position. The overcharged arrows exploded violently, covering much of the arena in a dense smoke which served to smother the flames and provide a cover for the ether clumps. Landing on the ground, the bo staff reappeared in his hands. Even though he couldn't see anything with the smoke around him, he could easily sense the sceptre by the amount of mana that was stored within.

Pointing the staff in the pyromancer's direction, a burst of mana sent the staff shooting forward. As it neared its target, the end curled into a hook and wrapped around the sceptre. There was a noise of surprise as the staff contracted and brought the sceptre back to Shirou. Wrapping one hand around the sceptre, Shirou haphazardly sent it flying somewhere behind him. He didn't want to break it, as it might have had some meaning to the girl. That didn't mean he wouldn't treat it roughly, however.

He took some pride in the minor victory even though he couldn't take any time to celebrate it. The temperature of the air was rapidly climbing even without any flame and an ominous orange glow was growing from within the smoke. Deciding on his feet that this attack would be too quick or too broad to avoid, he reinforced his cape and curled into himself on the ground with his back toward the orange glow.

Within a second, a massive detonation shook the whole arena. An intense heatwave roiled over his form, accompanied by the great roar of an inferno as hot fire washed over the arena. Memories of the Great Fire forced their way into his mind.

The heat continued to grow. This roaring inferno had no end. Shutting his eyes tight and gritting his teeth to stop the pain, Shirou found himself walking the path of rubble and ruin toward an unknown destination.

 _So many screams._

 _So much suffering._

 _So much **guilt**._

 **I -m t-e -ne of my -w-d**

Opening his eyes with a gasp, hot embers from the flames were forced into his lungs. Searing hot pain stabbed at his back and a brief trace of his clothes revealed that his cape had burnt off entirely. His vest was doing most of the work in protecting him now, but its condition was rapidly deteriorating. Within seconds, his bare back would be exposed and he would be burnt to a crisp.

Holding his breath, Shirou traced Elizabeth's altered blades. With awkward positioning, he placed the small silver shield in front of the oncoming blaze, marvelling as the torrent was redirected entirely.

However, holding it still was far from easy. It was equivalent to holding firm against the blast of a firehouse. The brief respite in flames gave him enough room to stand at the very least. Getting onto two feet and using both weapons, more fire was being reflected.

He at least had a moment to breathe now, taking note of his surroundings before deciding on an action plan. Everywhere around him was being tormented by a sea of flame. In his current position, he was a stone in the middle of a stream, flame consuming all but himself and the area just behind. The mana cost for such an attack must have been extreme, but it was certainly effective.

With so much flame came a few other problems. Not only was the ambient air temperature rapidly climbing to dangerous levels, but oxygen in the room was depleting at an extraordinary rate. If he wanted any chance at winning this fight, the pyromancer would need to be dealt with very quickly.

He had no choice here, he would need to trace projectile blades and bombard the area in an attempt at making her stop. There was a danger of her being impaled, possibly killed by a blade, but she might end up killing Lectra and her own partner if she carried on like this.

Dozens of nameless swords leapt to mind. The Magus Tournament had given him more than just conceptual weapons. Equally as important for attacks like this, he had recorded a dozen simple, basic swords. In his opinion, each and every weapon he traced was equally as important as one another. They all had their uses, their effectiveness only depending on the situation they were to be used in.

With his tracing complete, swords appeared over his shoulder one by one before firing down onto the pyromancer's position like artillery. On the sixth blade, a shrill cry of pain broke over the roar of flames and almost immediately, the blazing sea ended.

The residual heat from the attack left the floor steaming and made the air nearly impossible to breathe but he had to eliminate her on what little breath he had. Shirou sprinted forward toward the pyromancer's location, boots melting and sticking partly to the floor with each step. He found her easily, crumpled on the floor with a thin blade impaled in her shoulder all the way to the crossguard.

Standing above her, their eyes met for a moment. The only thing that came to mind for him to say was an honest "I'm sorry" before delivering his fist to the side of her skull. Crumpling on the floor, the pyromancer was put out of the fight. A huge gust of air blew much of the smoke in the arena away, sending pieces of smouldering dirt clumps into his face.

"A member from team fifty-one has been eliminated from the Tournament!"

With the clearing of the smoke, the situation made itself clear. Before he could even move, the spearman had wrapped himself around Lectra. With a slight struggle, he stuck a rather familiar blade against the side of her throat. At the touch of cold steel, Lectra immediately stopped struggling. Reflexively, she turned her head away, trying to keep the soft flesh away from the sharpened blade.

Everything seemed to stop at once, gravity of the situation taking hold. The only noise was heavy panting of all three members present. Cautiously, Shirou lifted both hands with open palms, indicating his surrender.

That sword was one of the first Shirou had ever seen, a refurbished blade stored in the Fuyuki museum. The spearman must have picked it up from the floor after the bombardment of his partner, opting to use his conceptual weapon to keep Shirou at bay. The tip of the centuries-old weapon was pressed beside Lectra's carotid artery. One motion and she would die within _seconds_.

Trying to find the words to say, he eventually stumbled upon something uncannily coherent. "Whatever you think this will accomplish, it's not going to help you out here." Surprisingly, Lectra was rather calm with being a hostage. Rather than struggle or try to move, she remained still and moved with the man, motioning with her eyes toward her necklace and hands as if to indicate her intention. She was planning on using the ultimate combination move? Or did she want him to overcharge the projections so they could blow the two apart? "I don't think you know what you're doing." As subtle as he really could, Shirou shook his head "no", trying to keep Lectra from doing something rash.

"Shut up!" the man barked, taking a step back as he grit his teeth in rage. "You hurt Ollia, you put your damned dirty hands on her!" he shouted, raising the blade to level it threateningly against Lectra's throat.

Why hadn't the fight been stopped? Couldn't the referee see that this situation would result in her death? Shirou nodded to the man's claim. "I won't lie, I did. You're right, I was the one who hurt her, so why are you threatening a girl who has nothing to do with it?"

There was a second of pause. Rage was clouding his judgement and likely reaction speed as well. Shirou cautiously shuffled forward as calmly as he could, closing the distance some. If he could just make it a _little_ closer, he might be able to-

"Because I'm giving you the same treatment!"

"Killing a girl is equivalent to me knocking one unconscious?" Shirou barked back with a little more anger than he had intended. Composing himself in the next second, he continued. "Just let her go and I'll admit defeat. You can use your spear on me all you like - but just let Lectra walk free."

"Blade, you can't!" she shouted, giving him a look of incredulity.

The blade against her throat applied a little more pressure as she spoke, puncturing the skin to let a trickle of blood spill free. _Just a little closer, keep stalling_. "How do I know you won't use any tricks?" the hostage-holder asked, eyes full of _fear_.

Rather than dematerialize his clothing, Shirou carefully took the time to remove it by hand. Hitting the release button on his chest for what was left of his cape, he made one subtle step forward. The vest followed, and another step was gained. Unzipping the suit to reveal the remains of his Tournament outfit was the last step, and that had gained him two steps.

There was a little over seventy meters between them, but those few steps had been _just_ enough to make his plan possible. Keeping his hands spread wide in surrender, Shirou made one last step forward before a wild glint in the man's eyes indicated he would gain no more. "I'm wide open, all you have to do is let the girl go." The barest lull in his guard set the trigger off in Shirou's mind.

 **Time Alter: Double Accel!**

All at once, the world slowed around him and Shirou bolted forward with as much speed as he could manage. With the barest indication within his mind, the sword in the man's hand dematerialized into golden-blue sparks. His hand thrust forward at half speed, indication that he absolutely would have killed Lectra without hesitation. Witnessing such a foul sight, indescribable rage flowed through Shirou, serving only to propel him faster toward the man.

One second passed, and Shirou's body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside out. Every muscle was being shredded and flimsily stitched back together by Avalon only to be destroyed in the next motion. Two seconds and Shirou was nearly upon the man, but his spear was already being poised - he was too late.

Time Alter collapsed around him and real-time returned all at once less than six feet away. The spear was thrust and a disgusting noise followed as it impaled Lectra through the abdomen. The girl screamed and was heartlessly kicked forward. Instead of landing on the spear tip, the weapon was magically torn backwards to leave a gaping hole in her stomach. Shirou had way too much momentum to even attempt catching her. He would have caused more damage by crashing into her at a full reinforced sprint so he opted to leap over her entirely. Shirou reinforced his legs and in the same jumping motion, collided with the man in a poorly established flying kick. With his foot impacting his chest, the man was launched toward the far end of the arena. Shirou hadn't intended to stop his attack, but before he could even move, a sudden beam of energy flew past him, striking the man and driving him further against the wall.

In shock, Shirou looked back to find Lectra holding the still-smoking necklace in her hands. She offered a weary-looking smile before collapsing onto the floor. A visual trace revealed that the attack had drained her reserves entirely. Either she had put her all into it, or the conceptual weapon had a little more draw than they both had expected. Dematerializing all of his traced weaponry, he sprinted toward the girl, but as he tried, his body locked up solid and he collapsed onto one knee and one elbow. He heard himself shout her name, but his consciousness was fading fast.

"One member of team six and the last remaining member of team fifty-one have both been eliminated from the Tournament."

… … …

… … …

Shirou hissed in pain as he pulled charred bits of synthetic material from his back. While his projected outfit was strong enough to withstand the flames, the Tournament suit was _definitely_ not and it had welded itself into his body as a consequence. The process for removal was painful, but it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. Using a scalpel, he was simply cutting the material free - there was no other way to remove it.

The door to the medical room opened, and Shirou used the mirror to see who had entered. He was surprised to see Luvia, who grimaced upon seeing his state. "She really did a number on you, didn't she?"

"How is Fifty-One holding up?" he asked abruptly, disregarding the comment on his own condition as he returned to his task. He was half-bent over a steel table, mostly because he couldn't actually support his own weight. Using Time Alter under such extreme stress had debilitated his body and while Avalon had repaired a decent amount, it had other injuries to focus on.

Luvia blinked, then furrowed her brow. "Ollia is doing fine. They repaired her shoulder and treated her concussion. Word is that she'll be walking around in an hour or so."

"And Flake?" After the battle, officials flooded the arena. They had taken the man, who was named Flake as Shirou learned later, away in magical bindings. Threatening the life of a student was against Tournament rules as one might expect, and he was to be penalized harshly after recovering from his injuries.

"Much worse. Beyond all the burn wounds inflicted by Lectra and his own partner, you shattered nine ribs and punctured both lungs. When he hit the arena wall, he fractured two vertebrae and there's talk about him never walking again." Shirou winced, both because he had sliced his back a little deeper than intended and because the list of injuries was grim. "Did you want help with that?"

"What do you know about removing bits of debris from someone?"

"I never told you about my family? As a mercenary, first aid in the field is a mandatory skill."

He gave her a look, then looked at his back in the mirror before begrudgingly holding the scalpel out for her to use. "Lectra definitely didn't help with anything."

Taking the tool, Luvia nimbly spun it around in her hand, admiring it for a brief moment. It was a projection of his, and she could likely tell just by touching it. "He was eliminated before she hit him with whatever that beam was. More than forty percent of his body has second-degree burns on the front and his mana reserves were drained enough to send him into a coma. No charges are being pressed against either party, but there's consideration for expulsion against both Lectra and Flake." With someone removing the fibres, it was much less painful and seemed to be progressing quickly.

He had expected Flake's possible expulsion, but not Lectra's. "She's probably being put up alongside him because of her last attack, right?" Luvia hummed in agreement, yanking a particularly large piece free. "How is she doing by the way?" While Shirou had checked up on her as soon as he could, he was quickly sectioned off to his own room in the medical ward and placed under a brief "room arrest". While not in any sort of trouble, the officials wanted to know his location until matters were sorted. A staff member coordinating the Magus Tournament was positioned outside to prevent him from leaving.

"She's much better now. Thankfully the necklace broke after draining all of her mana, so she wasn't sent into a coma like Flake. You should be let out of here soon enough, don't worry about it." The girl mumbled the last part as she sliced at a particularly stubborn piece.

The following moments were mostly silence, broken only by his own noises of pain as Luvia removed pieces. Eventually, Shirou decided to ask the most important question on his mind. "So what happens now that my partner in the tournament has been eliminated?"

"She is out for good and you continue on to the next fight alone. You'll get to have some two-on-one battles but from what I've seen, you're used to that kind of thing."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Luvia tore out the piece she had been working at, forcing him to clench his jaw lest he shout out loud in pain. Once the sensation subsided, he resumed the conversation. "I guess I don't have to hold back anymore then."

He felt the cold blade pause against his skin. "You're telling me those three fights were you holding back?"

Shirou could only shrug. While he had a significant number of tricks to use that could end fights in bloody, harrowing ways, most of them would place him in a jar. His reality marble was his greatest tool, but at the same time, it was his most dangerous and sensitive one. Time Alter was still fair use since it was just a complex bounded field. Speaking of, when was Gaia's equalization effect going to kick in? Last time it had been mere minutes following the use of Time Alter, how long would it take now?

"Almost done here. I'm surprised more of your skin isn't burned if this was what the suit looked like." The irony in that comment was that his body _was_ burnt. It didn't appear as such only because Avalon had stretched a new layer of flesh over the damaged areas. The artifact treated burns much differently than other wounds, opting to start from the outside and move inward rather than the other way around like it did for conventional injuries. If Shirou had to guess, it was to prevent infection and reduce healing time.

"Guess I'm just lucky."

"Or hiding something, but you already hide your face so what's a few more secrets?" More time passed as Luvia picked out the last remaining bits of fabric. "Just one more and we're done."

Without warning, Shirou felt every circuit snap to life. Against his will, his body seemed to prepare to unleash every ounce of mana in his reserves. Luvia made a noise of surprise as his magic crest spread across his entire bare back. There was a clatter of steel as the scalpel hit the floor, but it only made a single noise as it quickly dematerialized into sparks.

With nowhere for the mana to go, it began seething from his body, releasing itself into the air and heating his body by several degrees in an instant. Accompanying the rise in temperature was searing pain which made him grip onto the table. "What's wrong, did I do something?"

Shaking his head was all he could manage as his body clenched to deal with the agony coursing through his nerves. Was this feedback from Time Alter, or something else entirely? With one hand and an astonishing amount of effort, he waved behind him. "Water!"

With some panic, Luvia stumbled backward before racing out the door. With her gone, he could enact his real plan. His theory was that if his body was in pain from the excess mana, spending that mana would alleviate the pain.

Without hesitating, he projected Avalon to float in the air. This act had the intended effect, decreasing the pain enough so that he could at least bear it. Seeing success in his efforts, nearly a dozen copies of Avalon were created in quick succession, draining his reserves entirely. With his circuits not working hard to maintain the upkeep on multiple copies of Avalon, the pain vanished. With so many copies Gaia was removing each one at an accelerated rate. They would be gone within a minute if that.

Catching his breath while the pressure of pain left his body, he gave himself a detailed trace. Avalon was still working to repair the burns across his back which led him to believe that the pain hadn't actually been _harmful_. While the rest of his body seemed normal, his crest was going _crazy_. Like a kid at a light switch, the circuits in it were being flickered on and off haphazardly, switching from wide-open to idle with the same randomized rate.

Sending the mental signal to shut them down wasn't working as each time he did they simply turned back on. Looking at his crest in the mirror revealed a possible cause. His crest was expanding, increasing in size and contributing to the original design. Its basic design had been simple circuit-like ribbons almost like a shoulder strap. From the concentrated point in the center of his back, the ribbons crept over both shoulders to land on his pectorals, with a sword-like design resting at the nape of his neck. Since then, the crest had expanded. A large ribbon now extended to the base of his back, and the first curved portion began midway down as if signalling that more additions were to come.

As the copies of Avalon disappeared, searing hot pain stabbed directly into his spine. While it brought him to his knees, the sensation was oddly familiar. He had felt the same pain before, but where and when?

Gripping onto the table, he closed his eyes and tried to will the pain away. He could feel his sweat turning into steam as it touched the sizzling crest. At this rate, he would succumb to hyperthermia before this would end. Blood rushed to his head and a sudden faintness washed over him. Before he could pass out, however, ice cold fluid was splashed onto his back, producing sizzling snaps and startling him to attention.

The shock seemed to be just what he needed because his circuits suddenly stopped flickering to land in the off setting. Like he had just been subject to electricity for the past ten minutes, his body collapsed and felt entirely numb.

Groaning, he laid his head on the ground and huffed in exhaustion. A hand landed on his shoulder but it was quickly removed as the unexpected heat reached it. "What was that all about?"

"I have _no_ idea, but I don't think I can move."

Luvia huffed, stood tall and put both fists on her hips. "You expect me to lift you? Might I remind you that you're still _my_ lackey for another day."

Groaning, he closed his eyes. "If you help me out, I'll extend our agreement until Sunday - one extra day, alright?" Immediately, he felt her arms hooking underneath his, yanking his body upward.

With a chuckle, the girl positioned him on the bed. "You know just how to make a girl happy, Blade."

… … …

… … …

With absolute dead exhaustion, Shirou stumbled into his darkened room and turned on the light. Turning his head, he barely had a second to react as something hard and metallic slammed him back first into the door. The act was entirely unexpected, and with his injuries from before, he found himself winded. The hammer of a gun came down within his mind to activate his circuits-

But nothing happened. His circuits lay dormant, entirely dead. There wasn't even enough residual energy in his body to reinforce his muscles. As he focused on what had hit him, confusion spread across his features. The person - a woman - was made entirely of _metal_. She had flowing, artificial hair similar to bubbling fluid and a pleasant, finely crafted face with eyes closed in a monotonous expression. She was wearing an overly stereotypical maid outfit, complete with a frilly white headband.

Her appearance was far from the most concerning feature. What troubled Shirou was the fact that her hands had become cages around his own. He was trapped, held in place by this metallic woman.

In the surprisingly fitting, flat tone she spoke. "I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle."

Huh?

"Trimmau, put him down this instant!" came a foreign voice from deeper within his room. On command, he was suddenly dropped onto his feet and given room to stand.

The metallic maid actually offered a short bow and calmly stated "I'm sorry, Mrs. Archisorte," in a hollow voice.

"We are supposed to be _guests_ in Blade's room, not his enemy." Stepping to the side, the metal maid revealed a rather stunning girl standing proudly within his room. "Good evening to you, Mr. Takahashi."

Blinking in stunned silence, rational thought slowly returned to him. "Good evening? If you don't mind me asking, _what_ are you doing in _my_ room?"

Sighing with something similar to defeat, the girl seemed to slouch forward in as much exhaustion as he was in. "I suppose that response is justified, especially after being attacked within your own room. I merely wished to speak with you for a moment, and I knew of no better place than in the privacy of your own dorm." With surprising elegance, the small girl seated herself on the desk in his room, offering the barest hint of a smile. "My name is Reines El-Melloi Archisorte, you likely know of my brother, Lord El-Melloi the Second."

Shirou furrowed his brow, rubbing his wrists to alleviate the irritation such rough handling made. "I wasn't aware he had a sister."

"Yes, well it is less a blood relation and more of a political family tie." Clearing her throat in a way he found strangely cute, she carried on. "Regardless, he is not what I have come to speak with you about. Rather, I'm much more interested in your ability and position within the Tower."

A pit formed in his stomach. So this girl was just like the two magus teams from earlier. She wanted him to create something for her with his projection magecraft? The only difference was that she held much more power than either of the two before, and he wasn't in any condition to fight. "My ability and position within the Tower?" he repeated back. "What does that mean?"

"You're a very intriguing person and I believe you can become a valuable asset for my brother, but he is much too pigheaded to see your potential. In his idiotic ways, he claims that the only way he will accept you as a student of his is if you claim one of the top three positions in the Magus Tournament." Lazily, the girl crossed her legs, placed her elbow upon one knee and rested her face within her hand.

"So you came here to encourage me to achieve this goal, is that it?"

A mischievous smile spread across her face, signals of danger going off in Shirou's mind. "Straightforward and to the point, aren't we? That was my goal initially, yes, but after seeing your reaction to me - I might have to involve myself in your life a touch more if only to gain a better understanding of what makes you tick."

Great, just what he needed - more women around him to make his life miserable. "But, if you're a high ranking aristocrat within the Clock Tower, don't you have responsibilities and duties that you need to attend to? How can you find the time to follow a novice magus around?"

The smile on her face grew a little wider and she stood from the desk to plod a few steps closer. With each step closer to him, her eyes changed shades, turning a demonic red as she closed the distance to a few inches. He was curious as to why but didn't want to voice his query. "My brother has claimed lordship over the El-Melloi house until I am of a suitable age wherein I can claim the position as myself. My brother is tutoring me during this time, although his spare time is fleeting at best. All of this being said, I have all the time in the world to do with as I please."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl closed her eyes and lifted one hand over her shoulder. Immediately, the metal maid grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him clear of the door. Once he was out of the way, the small girl left with a brief wave of the hand and the construct followed behind her. The metal maid paused in the doorway, twitching for the briefest moment. It mumbled a rather disinterested "I'll be back" before following its master down the hall.

… … …

… … …

"I have to tell you something incredibly important."

She was a little put on guard. Waver was never one to restrict her from much or offer strict warnings in this manner unless it was a matter of life and death. Seating herself in the plush office chair across from his desk, she folded her arms upon her lap and waited for him to continue.

"If my predictions are correct, I'll be instructing a new student in the near future." He paused to take a long drag on a cigar, blowing smoke away from her with some consideration. At the very least, he remembered that she despised the scent.

"Why is this information important to me?" she decided on asking. A new student for him was nothing new and if the student would pose a problem for everyone around, why was _she_ the only one who was brought into his office?

"Because the risk relates to you, and you only." A long drag of his cigar preceded his lean forward. His eyes were empty and entirely serious. "Under no circumstance whatsoever are you to allow direct eye contact between this new student and Add."

From the fireplace in his office, a condescending, deep voice suddenly echoed through the room. "Oh? For what mystical reason might this be, oh benevolent _Maker of the Rules?_ "

"If this student is allowed to view you, he will gain the ability to re-enact the Age of Gods." At this sudden declaration, she gasped and stood from her chair.

"How is this possible? Are you telling me that this student can summon…" She paused, remembering what Waver had said about eyes in every corner of the Clock Tower. "...that weapon even though I am still incapable of such a feat myself?" The girl clenched her fists at her side, looking between Waver and the mantelpiece with uncertainty.

"My excitement is unparalleled. I get to return to that dark cardboard box in deep storage with all the Lord's foreign video games." The comment was dry enough to suck the moisture from the air, but the mystic code continued its rant. "What if my carrier is in danger, am I to sit idle as they die and take me with them?"

"The matter has been handled. This new student will be your carrier's new bodyguard and will be instructed to protect her with his life." The Lord casually opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope, placing it on the edge of the desk. "Regardless, I wouldn't worry about them too much as they will be leaving the Clock Tower within three weeks."

Silence from the mantle was a rather fitting response to the situation. She decided to speak up and voice her own concerns. "Having Flat and Svin as my guards weren't enough, so now I need a third?"

Waver frowned, resting his arms on the desk as he took a soft puff of his cigar. "As I've told you, Flat and Svin are _not_ your personal guards, they are other students of mine."

The mantle suddenly boomed to life with a chuckle. "If they were our bodyguards, they would have been fired on account of how _terrible_ they both are. Remember the time we were kidnapped by Vikkar after the banquet in Ireland?"

"Unfortunately," the Lord grumbled, leaning back in his chair to make a loud creak echo throughout the room. "However, they were still successful in the end."

"If by _successful_ you mean _barely_ saved the world from total destruction due to absolute sheer luck, then absolutely." Offering a glance toward the mantle, the shape of her mystic code stood out. Designed into the very stone was a cage holding a small cube with intricate artwork of an undecipherable origin. Both were faintly glowing in a dull lime green which pulsed in tune with its spoken syllables.

"We're all still here, are we not?"

When her mystic code and Waver got into these verbal battles, they carried on for hours at a time. Deciding that they would continue back and forth for a while, she rolled her eyes and turned to leave his office.

"Before you leave, take this with you!" At the sound of Waver shouting, she turned to watch him take hold of the envelope on his desk. With the simple flick of his wrist, it was frisbee'd toward her with stellar accuracy. Snagging the piece out of midair, she looked over the blank face before offering one last glance into the room.

"What sort of evidence do you have that this student is good enough to protect my carrier?" The mantle grew more accusatory with each question, seemingly gauging the ability of this supposed student before even laying eyes on them.

"The evidence lies in the requirements for their placement as my pupil. They must claim one of the top three positions in this year's Magus Tournament." Her curiosity piqued, the girl carefully tore the flap of the envelope up, taking out the first thing her fingers found - a picture.

He was like her, concealing much of his figure beneath thick clothing and hoods. With his appearance recorded in her mind, she turned the picture over to see a word written in black sharpie, underlined twice to indicate its importance. Her face scrunched, and her lips parted to test the name written down.

" **Blade**."

* * *

 **Hah! Gotcha, all of you who thought it was going to be Lorelei that Shirou meets were wrong. It was the enigmatic Reines El-Melloi Archisorte!**

 **For those of you looking for a certain Saber-Face, you got her as well. While the details regarding much of El-Melloi's students are absent, I'm going to try and do my best to make the characters as fleshed out and intriguing as I can. Since little is known about the El-Melloi Case Files, I can't even place it very well on a timeline. I'm more or less creating all the characters with nothing more than their appearances and subtle hints.**

 **If any of you know details regarding the El-Melloi Case Files I would be more than interested to talk with you about the matter, so send me a message and we'll have a chat!**

 **As always, favourite, follow and leave a review! Also, remember to check out the discord which I've linked in the notes at the top!**


	17. For Family

**EDIT:** **Hands can do so much. They're probably one of the most important and complex parts in our body and if you ever take a moment to just think about it and look at your own hands you'll get what I'm saying.**

 **Hey everyone! 'Nother chapter here to stay. My beloved beta is hyped for the supposed "tournament arc" so I hope all of you are too!**

 **Random shoutout to SentinelSlice** **for reading from the beginning and leaving inspiring, wise reviews!**

 **I had this chapter done since the release of the last one and while that might sound like I'm holding things back from you, I am. Chapter 18 is hitting like a tonne of bricks. I got a job and I've just been totally incapable of writing decently so it has been waiting in the slow cooker for now.**

 **Just dealing with a lot of heavy plot, motivation and character development. Throwing ideas back and forth and they're kind of hit-or-miss in my mind.**

 **That's all my problem. The only issue you'll have is that chapter 18 might be rather late, but I'll do my best!**

* * *

Shirou awoke in absolute exhausted _agony_. Every inch of his body was sore and felt like it was a hair's breadth from falling off. To make things worse, he had slept on his arm wrong and the entire limb was numb. So numb that he couldn't even move it if he tried. Instead, he had to grip onto his wrist and drag it around manually. The entire sensation was strange as Shirou was normally a morning person. He had never felt this way before.

Sitting up in bed, he gave a large yawn and weakly rubbed the sand from his eyes with his working hand. Was this what mornings felt like for Rin? If they were, it was no wonder that she hated them.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Shirou looked ahead, hazily focusing on a man who stood just a few feet away against the desk in his room.

He was old, at least seventy years with wizened gray hair and a dense, but not long, beard. His face was wrinkled, but it held a strange sort of youth to it Shirou couldn't quite describe. It was like the youth had been sucked out of him artificially instead of ageing naturally.

"I don't like this nightmare," Shirou mumbled, closing his eyes and collapsing back on the bed. He would have a nap to skip past this part of his dream. He mentally asked his brain to give him endless flame and screaming dead, not creepy old men watching him sleep.

There was a vibrant chuckle which clearly cut through the darkness of his eyes. "As much as it might seem like one, you are not dreaming, _Shirou Emiya_."

All sense of fatigue left his body, eyes snapping open as he forced his body to stand entirely too fast.

He had intended to stand, activate his circuits and project enough blades to fill the room. Someone knowing his real name was an extreme risk, it meant they knew everyone he was connected to. Even though Shirou had tried to be menacing, what actually happened was entirely different.

He _tried_ to stand, failed miserably and merely threw himself onto his knees on the floor. As for his circuits, no matter how many times he envisioned the hammer of a gun igniting primer, nothing activated at all. He was empty, entirely dry.

Another chuckle. "That got you moving, although it was rather pitiful compared to your usual attacks." So this man had been watching him for some time. Looking up at him, Shirou realized even tracing wasn't working anymore. Regardless of the amount of effort, he couldn't glean any more information than what his normal eyes could estimate.

"What do you want with me?" the boy asked with obvious pain and confusion.

"Interesting, asking _why_ rather than _who_." A hand was raised to scratch wistfully at his beard. "I suppose the _who_ hardly matters if you know the _why_. Comrades and enemies can be nameless, so long as the intention is perfectly clear." The old man gained a distant expression, head drifting toward the ceiling as if he were envisioning something.

"If you're here to kill me, just get it over with. You know my name, so you must know what I'm capable of. Just leave my family alone." Through the body-wide stabbing pain, he managed to stand shakily with the assistance of the bedside night table.

"Believe me, my understanding of what you can accomplish is greater than anyone else to have ever existed. I know of your ability, Tracing, and I know you have access to the reality marble U-," he paused suddenly as if the bubble of comprehension within his mind had just popped. In the same jarring sense, he resumed speaking. "I think it would be best if you don't know the name just yet. Moving on, you have also been given your father's crest and access to the mystery _Time Alter_. Yes, you are an incredible specimen and while the quantity of your magecraft is severely lacking, the quality is extraordinary. If you need me to say it out loud, I have no intentions of killing you."

Struggling to even stand, Shirou's anger grew to new heights as he was spoken about like a lab experiment. "Then why invade my room, why spend so much time building up information?"

"Why does a magus experiment? Why do humans wish to explore? Why does a child play with toys?" The old man chuckled, offering a paternal smile before resuming, "fascination. There are so many paths you have or could have taken, but _this_ one stands out above them all."

"What are you talking about, what sort of paths?" Trying to put more weight on his leg, he collapsed with a groan. He wouldn't be able to fight off an aggressive mosquito let alone this wizened magus, whoever he was.

"Shirou, whether you know it or not, your life and destiny is like a sheet of glass. Every decision you make has unforeseen consequences that set in motion events outside of your control. Even now, the world has been altered by your choices and soon you will understand precisely how. You might have heard of this and likely remember it as the butterfly effect."

Finally getting himself seated on his own bed, Shirou huffed an exhausted breath. "One small action can alter the future in unforeseen ways like the snowball effect, what about it?"

"What some people don't know, is that certain individuals are more susceptible to the butterfly effect than others. Put simply, _you_ are essentially the walls of a house. Without you to keep things together, everything collapses. Everything depends on your actions, your design." There was a period of silence as Shirou tried to adjust himself comfortably. Without any strength to do so, it was an arduous process.

"What's the reason for telling me all of this?"

The old man shrugged. "I was bored, decided I should at least let you know that you're an outlier in a near infinite number of identical _yous._ " As Shirou was about to point out how ridiculous that sounded, he remembered something and made a noise to express as such. "I also wanted to fix your condition before it gets any worse."

The man abruptly moved forward, grabbing onto Shirou's shoulders with surprising force. "Hey, what do you think you're doing!" he shouted, cries muffled as his face was thrust into the pillow on his bed.

Shirou slept half naked, wearing loose pyjama bottoms to at least preserve his modesty. At the Clock Tower, he had also taken to wearing his scarf when he slept. That way, if anyone happened to sneak in as this old man had, his identity would still be preserved. With his bare back exposed, the wizard ran sharp, animalistic nails across his skin, somehow activating his circuits without Shirou's involvement. "When your father's crest was implanted into your body, the process wasn't fully completed. Add to that, the fact that you simply cannot transfer circuitry in this manner through normal means, and you get a body-wide circuitry infection. Luckily for you, Avalon has been keeping much of the damage to a minimum." It felt as if the man was jamming knives in his back and it took all of Shirou's willpower not to make a noise as he spoke. "To try and protect you better, it's shut off the connection between your body and some of your circuitry, trying to quarantine the virus as it were."

He knew about Saber's sheath as well? Just how much knowledge did this man have? Shirou began to struggle, but his feeble muscles and the man's raw strength kept him in place. Deciding it was best to let the insane man do what he had to, Shirou held silent, waiting for the end. "You might have noticed a sense of lingering weakness whenever you utilized your reinforcement ability on your own body; each time you utilized mana from your half-healed, corrupted circuitry, you forced a virus into what had previously been healthy cells." He paused, and the strange sound of crackling confused Shirou more. "After this, you should be back to peak condition."

Ten minutes of the old geezer prodding, scratching and slicing into his back later, he finished the task and the sense of fatigue gradually hinted at fading. Turning his head to the side, Shirou gave a befuddled look. "Who are you?"

Looking at his wrist for a watch that didn't exist, the old man smirked. "It only took you fifteen minutes to ask for the name of someone who invaded your bedroom offering infinite wisdom." The old man took a step back so that he could bow. "Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, your new advisor for all things interdimensional." Adding to the dramatic flair, the old man rose and threw out his arms, appearing quite pleased with himself.

When Shirou only offered a blank stare, he deflated significantly. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

He shook his head.

Rather than sadness or disappointment, anger raced across his features. "This damned generation, don't any of you read books or research True Magic anymore? Zelretch really doesn't ring any bells? What about The Kaleidoscope, the Old Man of Jewels or the fourth dead apostle ancestor?"

Shirou furrowed his brow. "The only thing that sounds familiar is the apostle ancestor part, sorry." He remembered Rin briefly mentioning them once. From what little he could remember, the dead apostle ancestors were a numbered group of vampires and other entities ranked from one to twenty-seven. It could be said that lower numbered apostles were stronger, however, that wasn't always the case. The number rating was a blend of both the ancestor's power and their overall threat to humanity. If this Zelretch was the fourth, and since Shirou was still alive, he must have been incredibly powerful.

With slightly more energy than he had before, he sat upright and raised one hand to the side of his head as a dizzying sensation washed over him. The old man sighed, eventually returning to his confident self. "With your history, I can understand where the disinterest regarding the magus world arises, but please at least _pretend_ to be respectful." Shirou nodded, sitting at attention as he waited for the man to speak. "I suppose now would be the time to say something inspirational, or say that I'm taking you on as my apprentice - but nothing comes to mind and I'm certainly not doing the latter." It seemed as if that comment was funny, as the man laughed. "I only wish to observe you, not break you."

Shirou raised one finger and opened his mouth to question what sort of teacher _broke_ their pupils, but the old man continued before he could get a word in edgewise. "Like you could make sense of even my most basic teachings anyway!" From deep within his stomach, a chortling laugh barked from his lips, bending him over partly as his own joke sent him into rancorous laughter.

Sitting on the bed as he was laughed at, Shirou _nearly_ wished he never met the man in the first place. After waiting a few seconds for his laughter to die down, Shirou asked his only question. "Is that all you came to say?"

The hysterical laughter gradually tapered off and after falling in volume, the man stopped laughing abruptly. It was strange to see how someone could go from one emotion to the other so seamlessly. "Almost, although this will be very brief. I cannot say much to influence your path, but beware the false King of Knights."

As fast as Shirou could blink, the space creating Zelretch's body distorted and shifted inward, collapsing into absolute nothing. Trying to rationalize what he just saw, he decided it wasn't worth the mental effort. "Beware the false King of Knights," he repeated, scowling to himself. Would he summon a fake version of Saber in the Fifth Grail War? It was a very open-ended warning, but that had likely been the intention.

Laying back on his bed to ease his sore body, he briefly went over what would need to be accomplished. Besides fighting at the end of the first-year qualifiers, his day was wide open, something he was immensely thankful for. Trying to fight in his current condition simply wouldn't end well.

For the first time in his life, Shirou decided to sleep in and recover. Closing his eyes, he tried to empty his mind and let his mind relax.

"Sweet dreams."

It was the old man's voice, almost like he had whispered the words straight into his ear. Immediately Shirou's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head to survey the area. Only, he couldn't find a single indication that anyone had been within his room again. A trace of the air around him didn't even reveal changes to the ambient air temperature. If the old man _had_ appeared and vanished before Shirou could see him, his body heat would have raised the temperature in the area partly.

With his heart rate up to a frightened level again, it would take a little longer to go back to sleep, but he could try to discern what the words had meant before he slipped off at least.

 _Sweet dreams_. Was it a simple suggestion, or a foreboding message?

… … …

… … ..

"Without Shirou here I have no one else to go with!" Taiga dramatically fell to her knees, getting down to Kiritsugu's level before wrapping both arms around his one. "Going alone is so weird so I _have_ to go with someone!"

While being shaken, Kiritsugu tried to keep the coffee cup in one hand stable as he raised it to his lips. "Fuyuki has had a spring festival for the past nine years and _now_ you want to go?" He shook his head, cautiously taking one sip of his beverage. "I don't buy it for a second, this is a plan of some sort."

"I promise it's not, just come with me, pretty please?" Illya merely watched from the other side of the table, picking away at her breakfast with waking apathy. She had only woken up minutes ago and she had barely wiped her eyes clear. Her father was giving her a rather questioning glare from across the table and for the life of her, she couldn't determine why. Did he want her to come up with a way for him to get out of this situation?

"Why don't you go with Missy?" he proposed, still offering that peculiar glare.

"Mrs. Fujimura has already asked and I have regretfully declined," the girl in question commented. She settled herself down at one end of the table, turning to watch Illya eat the breakfast she made especially for her. "I have an appointment with a psychologist later today, so I won't be able to attend."

Kiritsugu nearly scowled, taking another sip. "I have one condition," he began, lighting Taiga's eyes with childish hope. "Illya has to come with us." Illya herself nearly choked on the piece of egg in her mouth, but Taiga, unfortunately, took that as excited acceptance.

… … …

Secretly, she _had_ been hoping he would bring her along. It had been so long since they had done anything together that she had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

While she might have played her part as the innocent and naive daughter, she understood their family's situation as well as Shirou. They were essentially fugitives and Kiritsugu couldn't go out in public because he was worried that he would be discovered by the Mage's Association. Or worse, Old Man Acht.

While she was sad that they couldn't have fun all across Fuyuki, Illya understood her father's reasoning. But now, their trail had gone cold and the Association was looking for them in an entirely different country. There was either no risk, or Kiritsugu had decided to take what little risk there was. Illya was able to claim her rightful place back on her father's shoulders. After all this time, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be this high up. With Shirou being so tall, maybe it was time to move this responsibility to him, though she would have to find a way to convince him into it.

They weren't even past the entrance and she was already overjoyed. Beyond the ticket booth sat a handful of rides which each held happily screaming people, though the rides weren't what interested her. Illya had heard of the Fuyuki spring fair on multiple occasions from her friends at school. Everyone agreed that the fair's main attraction was in the various game stands.

Unlike other fairs, the prices in these stands were reputed to be low and the prizes were abnormally high in value. It was unilaterally known as the "perfect place for a date", or at least, that was what the boys in her class had called it anyhow.

Speaking of dating, Taiga was visibly upset with her presence. She had likely wanted this to be a private event between her and Kiritsugu but Illya just so happened to be an obstacle to her objective. Regardless, the teacher still held a bright smile.

As if it were some special occasion, she had put on a simple gray skirt and white polo. The outfit made her look a couple of years younger and with her hair in her trademark ponytail, the twenty-two-year-old hardly looked older than eighteen.

As long as Illya had known her, Taiga had only changed her hair once and that was years ago. She had cut her hair short to sit just around her neck but after Kiritsugu expressed a comment which was decidedly less than favourable, she had grown it out again to maintain a ponytail.

Even her father had dressed for the occasion, reaching far back in his wardrobe to withdraw a suit he had purchased long ago for an unknown occasion. The only difference between it and the old suit she remembered him wearing back in Germany, was that this one lacked a tie and the scent of cigarette smoke. Seeing as how her father had always loosened the tie anyway, it seemed natural that he would choose to discard it entirely.

Illya suddenly found herself being lifted from her father's shoulders, being deposited on the ground with a short explanation that he had to pay for their tickets. As Kiritsugu moved toward the booth, Taiga sidled up beside her and crouched down to her level. "Illya, I am willing to give you fifteen hundred yen for you to run off and leave your father and I alone."

There was a brief moment of confusion, but Illya suddenly realized her intention and a malevolent smile reflexively spread across her face. "Make it eight thousand and I'll _consider_ it."

The bewildered rage that flashed across Taiga's face sent such sadistic joy through the homunculus, and she couldn't help but giggle at the display. "You-I can't believe you're extorting me like this!" the teacher hissed, glaring with resentment.

"You have plenty of money, Ms. Fujimura. Sparing eight thousand yen to get an afternoon alone with Daddy really isn't that much to ask for, is it?" Illya put on the most innocent face she could, enjoying herself immensely as the teacher reached into her skirt pocket to withdraw eight bills. Smiling wider, Illya tilted her head. "Did I say _eight_ thousand? I actually meant _twelve_."

Blood rushed to her face in anger, serving only to the delight of Illya. The teacher spared a glance back toward Kiritsugu, realizing that she was running out of time. Diligently, the woman counted out four more bills and nearly shoved them into Illya's face. With deliberate slowness, the homunculus gently reached up to grip the bills between two fingers. Just as Ilya had timed, Kiritsugu turned from the booth and began walking toward them. Taiga was too enraged to notice, and his voice from behind drained all the colour that had flooded her face. "Why are you giving Illya money?"

The woman's eyes opened wide and she slowly turned to face him, barely stumbling out a single syllable before Illya took over. "Fuji-nee wanted to give me a little money for the fair. I wanted to say no but she really insisted," the girl explained in the cutest voice she could manage.

Judging by the way he seemed to hesitate, he had caught onto her plan. Even so, he merely smiled and extended a hand to offer them both tickets. "It's a good thing you have such a nice sister. Although, aren't you forgetting your manners?"

Carefully plucking the notes from her shocked fingers, Illya wrapped her arms around Taiga's neck while exclaiming her thanks. Being so close to her ear Illya whispered, "You snooze, you lose."

… … …

Standing in front of a large stand, Illya stared in awe at the man-sized stuffed toys hanging from the roof. "Step right up and shoot some ducks! Take down thirty and win the mega prize!"

Turning on her heel, she looked toward her father and stared up at him with childish hope. If there was anyone who could win a shooting competition, it was her father. "Come on Daddy, win me the mega prize please?" she whined, moving to grab him by the cuff. With little resistance, he followed her toward the edge of the stall.

"For just three hundred yen you can win a magnificent prize for your beautiful little daughter," the operator regaled, spreading his arms wide in reference to the myriad number of toys above him. Unlike how she would have expected, the man wore rather plain, basic clothing, though his voice was anything but. Looking between the man and Illya herself, Kiritsugu could only sigh in a sort of pleased defeat. Reaching into his suit, he withdrew the money and placed it on the table.

Sat on the very same tabletop were three rifle-like weapons, fed by a thick line full of small plastic balls. At the end of the stand, fifteen feet away, five sets of rails ran horizontally, indicating where the ducks he would need to shoot would come from. "Am I allowed to take a practice shot?"

The organizer hummed, shrugging impassively after a moment of thought. "For you and your pretty girl, I'll let you fire _one_ shot at the wall."

Picking the weapon up, Kiritsugu looked it over carefully before placing it within his shoulder and peering down the iron sights toward the end of the stand. The entire back wall was designed to imitate a slough, with sprouts of grass and cattails surrounding a large lake in the center. By following the end of the barrel, Illya would guess that his target would have been a large cattail. Kiritsugu's finger moved from the side of the weapon to gently squeeze the trigger, firing a single orange-coloured plastic ball down range. She was surprised to see the plastic pellet go flying off toward the center rail, making a loud ping as it ricocheted off the metal.

Her father made a small hum, looking the weapon over and adjusting his stance. "Whenever you're ready," he mumbled toward the operator, who rather smugly pushed a button to activate the game.

Following a clunk of an engaging motor, the clatter of steel plates and chains subtly filled the air. Dead center at the top of the back wall, a counter lit up with two zeroes in bright red. Illya watched both her father and the end of the range with extreme interest. All at once, yellow ducks and white swans began streaming from the left and right, pouring into sight at a rate that was overwhelming for her. The speed of the chain was way too fast to be considered fair, but it didn't seem to bother her father any. Like a machine, Kiritsugu retained his composure and rapidly began picking off each duck with marksman-like precision. Ilya watched the number above climb steadily as plastic pellets pinged off the thin metal ducks. Not a single swan was hit, and as the number struck thirty, a buzzer indicated that the end had been reached.

The operator had his eyes locked on the far end of the stand, confusion, shock and fear emblazoned on his features simultaneously. "You uh, you actually managed to-"

"Which toy did you want, sweetheart?" Kiritsugu asked, looking down at his daughter with a wide smile.

Illya herself was beaming. Hopping in place, she pointed toward a stuffed lion that was almost taller than she was. Instead of waiting for the game operator to collect his jaw from the floor, Kiritsugu reached hefted her up by the waist so that she could grab the toy with both arms. Back on the ground with her victory claimed, she stuck her tongue out at the attendant.

Hugging her new toy tight, she also slipped a glance in Taiga's direction, winking before turning back to her father. "I'm going to go see the rides, see you in a few hours!" Before he could even answer, she had turned on her heels and had taken off deeper into the fair with the oversized plush within her grasp.

Illya giggled to herself as she darted around couples and random people enjoying themselves. There was no way her father would catch her and make such a big scene.

She knew exactly what Taiga had planned, and while she normally threw wrenches into everyone's plans for a laugh, Taiga had been trying so desperately for the last eight years to weasel her way under Kiritsugu's guard. After all that time and effort, Illya felt that the teacher deserved a break - however slight.

… … …

… … …

Waking up for the second time, Shirou felt _infinitely_ better. There was honestly no comparison between his condition then and now. Sitting up and stretching, the sore achiness of his body was entirely absent. As a test, he activated his circuits with his mental imagery, finding everything to be in perfect working order. Testing himself further, he ran a visual trace on the objects in his room.

A smile came to his lips beneath the scarf as all of his abilities checked out. Tracing, projection and reinforcement were all in tune and working with greater efficiency than he was used to. He then remembered his use of time alter in the tournament and suddenly became concerned with when the corrective effect would strike. Considering the thought, he determined that it had likely taken place while he was sleeping. Since there was no pain or other sensation associated with the effect, time had likely just flown by without him noticing. That might have been another contributing factor for how tired he had felt earlier as well.

Standing from his bed, he put on some simple, fresh clothing and traced on his "Robin Hood" outfit. He paused one last time to give a quick glance to the clock beside his bed, taking note that it was a quarter past eleven.

If he had to guess, Lectra and Luvia would be waiting for him in the common area to have lunch. Speaking of lunch, he was spending an exorbitant amount of his money on pre-made food that was sub-par in quality. Shirou had made a decent amount working at the Copenhagen, but if he continued this spree, he would need to cut into his father's money.

After a complaint he made one day, Lectra had commented on the matter and suggestion something intriguing; following a brief investigation, however, he found her idea impossible. She had asked why he didn't reinforce food to _taste_ better or provide more nutrition. He initially dismissed the comment but after testing it out himself, he could say that it was a venture in futility.

For one, reinforcement only amplified a _concept_. Rather than provide a concept like alteration, reinforcement utilized mana to develop something further. In the case of his swords, it was usually durability or sharpness. That was accomplished by filling the porous space with mana directed toward the supposed concept. Unfortunately, in the case of a sandwich or food in general, there wasn't a " _tastiness_ " concept for him to reinforce.

And while he _could_ reinforce the nutritional quality of the sandwich to make it more filling, that nutritional value would return to inedible mana when the sandwich was digested. So while it would make him feel full, repeated use would actually lead him to starvation. It all meant that dealing with overpriced, unsatisfying food was in his future.

Once he was dressed and ready for the day, Shirou stepped out and re-locked the door behind himself. With the number of people able to easily access his room on a whim, it was more of a formality than anything.

If he happened to miss anything important while he overslept, Octavia would let him know so she would be his first stop before hitting the common lunch room. Yawning as he approached her desk, he passed a diminutive looking magus with glasses. Upon spotting Shirou, they cautiously moved to set their back up against the wall. Shirou briefly turned his head back while walking, curious as to what brought on such a reaction. That might have been a mistake because the magus nearly jumped in place, jogging in the opposite direction with some urgency.

Furrowing his brow as his curiosity shifted to confusion, Shirou eventually decided not to worry about it. After all, magi were a convoluted sort with their own obscure rules and obligations.

Reaching Octavia's desk, he gently tapped two fingers on top to make a hollow knocking noise. "Good morning, Octavia. Was anything new announced while I was sleeping in?"

The woman spun around in her chair, giving him a glare that lacked her usual plastic smile. While not the most frightening sight he had ever witnessed, it certainly ranked within the top five. "It's not nice to take things without asking you know," she menaced, narrowing her eyes defensively.

Looking away as embarrassment hit him full force, he tried to line up words that would placate her. He eventually landed on a defeated comment along the lines of, "So you were watching the fights too."

"I wasn't initially, but after hearing tales of a nameless magus who had defeated the Vernier team with their own mystic codes I had attended to see such a person with my own eyes." She leaned forward, clasping her hands and propping her elbows on the table to act as a resting place for her chin. "Moving forward, are you going to apologize to me, or feign ignorance?"

Shirou paused to roll one shoulder, buying him that precious extra second to think. "They were just so captivating when I first arrived that I entirely forgot to ask for permission. I also needed to provide Lectra with a little help and she doesn't know how to use a sword so..." he trailed on, staring into Octavia's blank eyes.

Just when he thought she might lunge for his throat, her face split into the familiar forced smile he was used to. "I'm just messing with you, I thought it was rather endearing that you valued my little trinkets so much to bring them into battle with you." She paused, leaning back into her chair which creaked heavily. "Besides, now I know what their combined attack looks like."

"It was a good experience for us all then," he surmised, clearing his throat. In a much quieter, more docile tone he asked once again, "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing too important, they announced the schedule for the semifinals tonight, betting has opened up for teams and Lectra has been released on probation from the medical wing." Octavia's eyes flickered from his to someone behind him, smile growing a little wider in what he could only guess was surprise. "My, I haven't seen you around in quite some time."

He was in the midst of comprehending what she had just said when his attention was stripped away. Shirou only had to get the newcomer in his peripherals to know exactly who they were. Striding up to the counter with the authority and confidence of an ox, they moved right beside him and placed a long brown package on the counter with a thud. "I honestly think I have the worst luck of all the enforcers. Why can't I get contracts to hunt designates or take on magi escort missions like the others?"

"It might be because of your temperament, Ms. Fraga. The last time you were assigned to escort a magus, you broke your charge's nose because they were, quote, _putting themselves in danger_." Lifting both hands, the receptionist went so far as to make air quotes and offer a condescending smile.

The Irish woman scowled deeper. She looked just as Shirou remembered, however, there was something new hanging off each ear. Two ovaloid earrings in gleaming, polished silver. The visual trace he received from them absolutely baffled Shirou: they were approaching _two thousand_ years old! "They were, and I stand by my decision. Is the Second Lord El-Melloi in today?" Noticing that she was being gawked at, Bazett's eyes flickered to the side before her head followed suit. "What are you looking at, kid?" The edges of her lips flickered upward. "First time seeing an enforcer in the flesh?"

Shirou clenched his jaw, making sure his mouth wasn't agape without his knowledge. He would have to inquire about her newfound, ancient earrings later, for now, he had to act like they were strangers. "If that is what you are, it must be."

Bazett narrowed her eyes, smile fading from her lips immediately. "You magi are all the same, ignorant to the people putting in the real work to uphold your precious Clock Tower." With little more than a "tsk" and a wave of the hand, she turned her attention to Octavia, who was observing with bated breath.

Holding his tongue, for now, he narrowed his eyes and leaned against the counter. At the very least, he knew she was back and her time _lying low_ was over. "From what I know, Lord El-Melloi the Second is within his office and will be until the first-year qualifiers begin."

Bazett's eyebrow twitched at the mention of the qualifiers. "What time would that be?"

"The semi-finals begin around four o'clock." The smile on Octavia's face grew a few inches wider while she settled into a more comfortable viewing position for the show she was about to start. "Our black-clad friend here is one of the competitors in fact. From what I hear, his odds are quite high even while lacking his partner."

Bazett slipped a sideways glance his direction. "If this is one of the best this year has to offer, the quality of magi is really slipping." Hefting the package from the counter, the woman walked away from the counter with some haste. "Can't stay to play your games, Octavia. Have to get this thing delivered ASAP or else my pay gets cut." With a brief wave of the hand holding the parcel, the Irish woman casually strode deeper into the building.

"Just as boring as usual," Octavia called after her, refocusing her attention on Shirou. She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to spout something sly, but he was too quick to strike.

"Magi bet on the Magus Tournament?"

… … …

Octavia spilled a decent amount of information. Evidently, anybody with money who wasn't a competitor could place bets on which team would win the first-year qualifiers. In the real Magus Tournament, these bets were placed on each fight, although with stricter rules to curtail the throwing and potential conflicts of interest.

Beyond Magus Tournament betting, Octavia had told him a pile of other information, such as Lectra being released from the medical wing on probation. She wasn't allowed to leave the Clock Tower, use magecraft or come into contact with a mystic code until she was cleared.

He had also asked for an explanation on the mystic code part of her probation, specifically what they were in the first place. Shirou was hardly surprised to learn that he had been mislabeling an entire set of items for most of his life. From what Octavia told him, mystic codes were a type of support weapon wielded by magi with the main goal of amplifying magecraft or storing magecraft in some fashion.

This was different from conceptual weapons, as those types of weapons offered more than simple physical interference. They operate or affect an individual by enacting a concept. This was how Kiritsugu's Origin Rounds worked, enacting the old man's origin as a concept alongside the physical attack. They are often much more powerful than simple mystic codes only due to their ability to strike on multiple levels. This simple definition meant that much of Shirou's armoury held mostly mystic codes and that he only had _three_ conceptual weapons: Origin Rounds, Avalon and the anti-magic crossbow bolts from Kiritsugu's physical armoury in Fuyuki. While it had been disheartening to hear, he at least had a better understanding of how to classify the weapons he stumbled upon.

Shirou had been so caught up in unpacking all the information he gathered, that he hadn't noticed the people around him as he moved through the Clock Tower. Walking through the halls was an entirely different experience than it had been yesterday. Rather than giving him strange but fleeting glances, people were either outright staring at him or trying to _avoid_ him. The faces on those staring at him ranged from fear to intrigue to outright contempt. There was such a mixed reaction to him that he hardly knew what to expect with each person he walked past.

Then, as if she had appeared from the wall, the voice of Reines Archisorte almost made him leap out of his skin. "I knew I would find you if I followed the whispers long enough." Turning in mid-startle, he spotted a rather monotonous face that seemed positively disinterested.

"If you plan on scaring me every time you want to talk, I'm going to project a bell around your ankles." Her eyes were an equal mix of green and red, but as he took a step to provide some extra distance, green rapidly seemed to dominate.

"Would that make me your _pet_?" she asked with deadly innocence.

He gulped, taking another step back to watch her eyes become entirely green. This woman had the power to destroy him if she so desired. Perhaps not physically, but politically and socially at the very least. "I wouldn't call it that at all. It would just make it so I know when you're around."

"I see, well, in that case, I wouldn't mind." The edges of her lips twitched in a smile as she rested both hands over her front in a gesture that reminded him of Sakura. Unknown to her, a rather sizeable traffic jam had begun in the hall. Since nobody wanted to _dare_ pass too close to Reines, they had stopped a few meters away, almost as if they had struck an invisible wall.

It was confirmation that, even without being an official Lord, she was still as powerful as one in a political sense. "If you're interested, I'm on my way to have lunch with Lectra and Luvia."

"An invitation to lunch? I have nothing in my schedule and I had intended to follow you regardless, so why not." The diminutive girl shrugged her frail shoulders, moving her arms to clasp both hands behind her back. "Lead, and I shall follow."

… … …

Shirou was suddenly yanked forward toward Luvia's face by the collar. Her face shifted from a pleasant introductory smile to absolute annoyed anger. "Why the hell is the head of the Archisorte family following you around?"

"Yeah, and why does she keep looking at you the same way Luvia does when your back is turned?" Lectra added innocently, getting a wild glance from the woman in blue.

To say having a face so close to his was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Tugging back to make some distance, he found Luvia's grip resolute. "Well," he began, trying to determine where he should start, "after the fight, I went back to my dorm and found her in my bed last night-"

Both girls suddenly looked as if they had been slapped, visibly recoiling from his suggestion. The two simultaneously shouted their surprise, and Luvia slammed both palms into his chest. Being shoved back with such force nearly toppled him over, but he _barely_ managed to remain on his feet. For a girl who looked so thin and refined, she packed a punch when she wanted.

"What's the problem with the two of you?" While people had already been looking their direction due to Reines, the girls' outburst had sent everyone leering their way, "you're making a scene."

Reines herself on the other hand merely giggled and tugged back on Shirou's cape. Already off-balance from, Luvia, he stumbled a few steps further. "I had no idea you were such a savant with women, Blade. I suppose it only adds to your quality."

"Sa-huh? Look, all three of you," he pointed between the women around him, having to turn sideways to accomplish the fact. "I don't know if this is the best place to be discussing matters like this." People began whispering amongst themselves and motioning toward them now. If he didn't control how much attention they were gathering, people would start to get brave and a crowd would form. "If you would like somewhere more private, I may have a solution," Reines suggested, nodding her head to the left.

Shirou turned back to give her a look. He wanted to decline, say that it was too much to ask for but he knew that it was a flimsy excuse which wouldn't be enough to persuade the commanding Archisortie. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to argue, he dropped his head and extended one arm in exasperation. "Fine, let's see what you've got."

… … …

"Just another benefit of being part of an influential magus family," the short blonde passed off, offering a short nod to her metallic maid. At the signal, the automaton turned to face the counter behind it. Littered across the top were beverages both alcoholic and soft as well as multiple appliances to craft whatever drink one desired. In this case, the maid turned on an electric kettle and prepared plates and teacups.

It had been a decent walk, but Reines hadn't lied about having a private room. It was situated beneath the lunch room within the first underground floor, so the journey wasn't too far. They only had to make the descent down a decrepit looking stairway of antiquated stone. Lectra had almost rolled down the staircase because she thought her hair had caught a spider web.

The private room they were in was bigger than he had expected. Longer than it was wide, the studio room featured everything to make living comfortable, with extra accommodations to seat a dozen people.

A surprisingly fleshed out kitchen sat to the left, complete with a bar and stools for seating. Next was a wall-set countertop with simplistic pot lights where the metal maid operated. Further down was a six-seater table that was pushed up against the wall. An integrated wall-closet followed, just before the bedroom area. As he had expected from a girl who dressed as extravagantly as Reines, the bed was lavish with throw pillows and soft quilting.

On the right side of the room, total chaos dominated. Two steps led into a sunken living room that held an ungodly large sectional, likely worth more than Bazett's home. It faced a large bookshelf set into the wall with a coffee table set up between. Further down the wall was a small desk with heavily used candles for lighting. The chaos in this area stemmed from the ungodly amount of books, papers and writing utensils strewn about in every direction. Four of the sectional's eleven seats held a person's weight in books and spare paper. As for the desk, the only reason he knew it _was_ a desk was that he could see beyond the mounds of paper and piles of various items due to his tracing ability.

Based on how the room seemed to be entirely bare besides these two areas, the metallic maid likely handled the cleaning and it had been instructed not to touch the study material.

"I wish my place looked as fancy as this," Lectra mumbled, looking around the room with stars in her eyes.

"Tsk, and I thought the decor to be rather lacking. Far from what I expected if I were being honest." Luvia lifted her nose and turned her head to the side to adorn the most pompous stance Shirou had ever seen her make.

Throwing a strange look her way, Shirou began a reprimanding, "you can't be serious. Ms. Archisortie-"

"Call me Rei, Blade," came a brief interjection. There was an odd tone in her voice that scared him for a reason he couldn't quite place.

Pausing to throw the platinum blonde an uncertain look, he returned to his initial thought after receiving a short nod. " _Rei_ kindly offered us a room so that we wouldn't be mauled by the other magi, the least you could do is thank her."

Luvia didn't respond with words, merely scoffing pretentiously as she moved with Lectra toward the bar stools. He wanted to ask what her problem was but just as he opened his mouth, the metal maid thrust tea into his hands emotionlessly. He wasn't even seated, was he expected to drink it standing?

At least Lectra wasn't being inconsiderate. Trying to take in the sights and simultaneously ignore Luvia, she offered a conversation starter. "So how did you meet Blade?"

Reines gingerly hopped up to seat herself on the countertop in the kitchen, facing the barstools and calmly accepting the cup of tea offered by her automaton. "I had initially heard of him through my brother and after seeing him fight in the qualifiers yesterday, I paid a visit to his bedroom."

Lectra, who had been taking a tentative sip of her steaming tea accidentally sucked in more than intended, scalding her mouth as she awkwardly sputtered and made noises of pain. Shirou lowered his head, realizing his fears were, in fact, reality. He was a toy in yet _another_ girl's game, _exactly_ what he wanted.

… … …

Shirou learned that he was to show up first in the semi-final round tonight from Octavia. According to her, his display last night had resonated with the officials enough to make him their star attraction. While the amount of fame was concerning, he could do little about it now besides throw his battle and leave. Though, if he did that he might find himself receiving even more _negative_ attention.

Picking at the cuff of his outfit again, Shirou stretched to ensure that the suit was fitting as it should. "Why don't you just make your entire outfit like usual before heading out there?" Lectra asked, watching him from the couch with a disappointed gaze.

Returning the eye contact as he absently picked at his skin-tight suit, he explained his reasoning. "While it might not seem like it, projecting all of those clothes takes a considerable amount of mana and I'd like to preserve it if I could."

She paused, trying to find the logic in his statement. "So you would rather suffer heavy injuries to your body than spend a little extra effort making armour for your protection."

He chuckled, faced forward and rolled his shoulders to make sure his arms weren't restricted one last time. "When you put it like that, it sounds pretty stupid," she nodded, "but when have I ever done anything smart?"

"Touché, just make sure you don't get yourself blown to pieces, alright?"

He offered a smile, making sure to close his eyes and stress the features above his nose to make sure she understood his meaning, "no promises."

… … …

… … …

Shirou had unquestionably _demolished_ his competitors. It was comparable to crushing a fly with a clap in mid-air, difficult only in that his opponents continually evaded the finishing blow. His level of performance in the arena was leagues different to how it had been yesterday. While he had felt awful last night and this morning, tonight, he felt better than he had in a long while. Thinking about just how long that had been, Shirou placed it before the entire werewolf confrontation.

"Looks like the finals are going to be us against you." A familiar voice tore straight through Shirou's thoughts and reflexively he paused in mid-step. It was Thirty-Two, the team who had asked for his aid in the Tournament. Shirou had just entered the hall to return to his dressing room, having noticed the team on his way. He had simply thought they wanted to gauge his combat power today as spectators, although it seemed they wanted to talk as well.

Turning on his heel halfway, he offered a questioning glare. Spotting the competitively smirking faces of the two men, Shirou offered his own challenging smile. "Pretty confident. From what I've seen, Forty-Four is pretty tough."

The dark-haired man made a passing motion with one hand. "Cake-walk, you just watch." Almost on cue, the announcer echoed through the arena to call both teams into the circle. "We'll talk in ten minutes, then we can settle the terms of your surrender."

Based off the way his partner's head twitched toward him, neither of the two believed they would win the final. They were merely holding up appearances or trying to bait him into surrender under some sort of threat. The two jumped from their seats and walked through the bounded field into the arena, leaving Shirou to return to what he was doing.

Just a quick nap until the final battle in the qualifiers, then he was an official competitor in the _real_ Tournament.

… … …

… … …

Even with a hole in his shoulder, Shirou couldn't help but smile. He had single-handedly taken down the last team in the qualifiers and moved into the full Magus Tournament.

Thirty-Two had put in a decent fight, the hardest he had ever seen them try in fact, but it still wasn't enough. After all his training with Kiritsugu, Rin, Illya, Bazett and his battles with a genuine enforcer and magical beasts, Shirou was more than prepared to handle magi who were lacking combat experience. That being said, their abilities and weapons had been enough to catch him off guard _once_. Combining their weapons into a single technique, the rapier-user had refracted his light beam off the parrying shield, creating an undodgeable shotgun-spray that nearly took off his head.

The old man had once again approached him, asking if he wanted healing for his injuries. As they had both come to expect, Shirou declined, supporting the debilitated limb with his other arm. The gaping hole was merely two inches in diameter but it had struck in a place which rendered his entire arm inoperable. The last time Avalon had repaired a hole of similar size, it had taken a little over nineteen hours to regain functionality. To be fully restored would be another ten hours on top of that.

"Just don't push yourself too hard, kid. You've got a special gift and it would be a shame for it to go to waste." With eyes full of concerned admiration, the man nodded and walked toward the official's area to tend to the unconscious members of Thirty-Two.

Shirou had tried something new this time around: While he typically traced and fired each individual arrow he wanted to use, this time he had fired one arrow, then multiplied the projection a dozen times as it flew through the air. The effect was an instant hit, taking out the rapier-user in the confusion. Shirou had mentally added the tactic to his repertoire, finding that it was rapidly growing with possibilities. He was becoming a true force to be reckoned with and his potential only grew with each encounter. Each encounter that actually had a weapon he could use, of course.

Shirou turned toward the way out - toward his dressing room - and felt the blood instantly drop from his face. Striding toward him with an expression that could startle a gargoyle, was none other than Lorelei Barthomeloi.

Shirou had been prepared to deactivate his circuits and cool off his body, hesitating at the fierce look she gave him. After considering that, if she wanted him dead he would already be dead, he decided that being prepared wouldn't do much to help regardless.

With his circuits offline, the chilly stale air of the arena came as a blessing, although that might have been the woman's aura washing over him as she neared. "Haruto Takahashi, you have claimed victory in the first-year qualifiers of this year's Magus Tournament. I have come to express my congratulations and offer you the option to move into the official Magus Tournament ranks as a C-tier competitor."

Shirou frowned partly. Only C-tier? He had expected to be a B-tier with how easily he had gone through the competition. Moving on from himself, another matter of concern struck him. "Will my partner receive this opportunity as well?"

The woman visibly scowled, chilling the air and almost making him flinch. "You are the sole victor from team six. Either you proceed to the Magus Tournament alone or not at all."

Shirou imagined that a sigh would only piss her off more, so he held it back in his throat. "I accept. I wish to move on into the official Magus Tournament," he nodded.

The woman maintained her scowl, head twitching in what he could only assume was a nod. "Very well, you will receive a schedule which will include which battles you are to appear in from Octavia Leyland."

Shirou nodded and expected her to turn and walk away, but when she remained in place with that scowling glare, he understood there was more for her to talk about. Nearly ten seconds of awkward, staring silence passed. It was more than enough to put him on edge, so he was somewhat surprised when her question finally arrived. "Are you able to create anything _more_ than mystic codes?"

Shirou furrowed his brow, trying to appear as confused as he could. "Apologies, Lady Vice Director, but what do you mean by _more_? I am able to project a large quantity of simple things like plain swords, but very few mystic codes," he explained, hoping she would buy his outright lie. He could project nearly as many mystic codes as he could average weapons.

She narrowed her eyes accusingly, looking him over for a moment. With a haughty huff of breath, her examination concluded and she turned slowly to walk away. "Very well then, you have given a sufficient answer to my question."

As calmly as she had arrived, she exited in the same fashion. Shirou found a breath he had unconsciously held escaping from his lungs spontaneously. At least his first encounter with the Vice Director had gone well. He could definitely see why Kiritsugu had mandated he keep his distance. Unlike most magi with extreme capacity like Illya, Lorelei Barthomeloi was fundamentally different. A visual trace had told him that her entire body was _shrouded_ with mana like a dense barrier. What was even scarier, was the fact that only a small amount had actually dispersed. If he didn't know any better, he would think she was a natural magnet to mana, something which went against everything he knew.

Thankfully, he wouldn't have to think about it should he keep his exposure with her to a minimum. The stabbing pain in his shoulder reminded him that it wasn't a good idea to be standing around idly.

… … …

… … …

With his mouth agape, he watched the victor of the qualifier with awe. "How does a guy like that kick so much ass?"

There was a "tsk" which turned his attention to his good friend. "You can't be serious."

Turning his head, he asked the most intelligent thing he could muster, "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ , he's limiting his magecraft to a single path rather than expanding to use more useful spells. If these fighters were any good, they could see that he's telegraphing his next move by creating the weapon he's preparing to use." The sisal-haired boy leaned back in his seat. "I could _totally_ beat him."

Unable to stop a snorting laugh, he watched the boy within the arena speak to the Vice Director herself. "Don't kid yourself, Svin. If you were being bombarded, there would be no way you could keep up with how fast he changes tactics. Remember the first or the last fight between him and Seventy-Three? Both teams thought he was cornered but each time he pulled out something new from his bag of tricks and broke all expectations." Leaning forward, he propped his head up on his elbow and further dissected the fights in his own mind.

A push against his elbow dropped his face before his body could react quick enough to recover. "And you could one-handedly throw him around like a ragdoll?" Forcing air through his teeth, Svin rolled his eyes. " _Don't kid yourself, Flat,_ " he mocked.

Flat smiled, looking between his friend and the boy they were arguing about. "I guess I'd have to find out the good ol' fashioned way."

"You're not really considering-"

"Want to be my partner?"

"Absolutely." At the exact same instance, both men rose from their seats to carry out their shared objective.

… … …

"Six! Hold on for a second Six!" Flat shouted, stumbling over himself before awkwardly recovering just a few steps away. He would have been somewhat respectable too if it wasn't for chicken-boy slamming into the back of him and sending him onto his face.

Groaning in pain as he slid along the tiled floor, a girl's giggle reached his ears. "Don't mind my friend, he's a very clumsy individual," came a classic excuse from Svin. Scrambling to his feet, Flat _gently_ bashed his shoulder into Svin's, knocking the boy off to the side before offering a greeting smile. "Svin is such a nice guy, always covering for my mistakes. What he meant to say, was-"

Hands wrapped around his mouth, silencing him before he could relay the entire message. While his muffled cries barely got through, a comment from the strawberry blonde behind their intended target did. "Looks like some twins with a rivalry problem to me, dunno about you, Blade."

Rather than try and bite his way out of Svin's grasp, Flat spoke two muffled words: "Game select," and froze the boy's body in place. Simply ducking beneath his stationary friend's hand, he ran a hand through his hair and offered a charismatic smile. "So your name is _Blade_ , Six? And this must be your partner in the qualifiers, I'd recognize a face like that anywhere." He watched the girl rapidly shift from snickering in amusement to blushing in a brief instance, cheeks flushing at the unintentional compliment.

The sound of someone struggling to speak came from behind, likely Svin trying to force his way through the magecraft holding him in place. Through it all, Blade looked unimpressed, eyebrows inching downward. In the time it had taken Flat and Svin to get down to the screening area for the arena, he had gotten dressed in a rather strange outfit. They had seen it before of course, in the battle against Fifty-One the outfit had protected Blade from the flames. "So what did you want to talk about?"

The amount of disinterest flowing from the man visibly struck Flat like a wall. Recoiling his head, he stumbled back, bumping into Svin who comically toppled backwards like a statue. "Wasn't expecting that reaction. I just wanted to ask you for a little favour was all."

Narrowing his eyes, the man in black casually tilted his head almost like he was checking on Svin. "What sort of favour?"

A bright, beaming smile spread across Flat's face. Dramatically, he pumped his fist in front of himself and threw the opposite hand out as if he were fanning a cape. "Since neither of us are in the Magus Tournament, we challenge you to a two-on-one duel to see if we can defeat you in combat!"

Blade's eyes softened and blinked rather slowly a single time. Still holding his position, Blade shrugged his good arm. "A _challenge_ , you say? Sure, but not right now. If you couldn't tell, I'm still nursing a bad arm and since I _will_ be participating in the Magus Tournament tomorrow, I don't want to damage it more than it already is."

Flat could feel his eyes sparkle as he nearly bounced in joy. "Don't worry about an injured arm, I can fix that real quick." Adjusting his dramatic pose to thrust his palm toward Blade's shoulder, he repeated "Game select" and pictured the repair of the man's arm in his mind.

Shock spread across Blade's face as flesh, bone and muscle filled the hole and rendered the area good as new. While Blade examined the healed area with his good hand, a groan from behind signified that Svin had regained function. When the healing was completed, Flat lowered his hand and chanted "Game over."

As far as Flat knew, what had just taken place was his only downside. He was entirely unable to cast differing magecraft on separate entities. "I _hate_ when you do that to me. I have no idea how many times I have to tell you that, but every time you freeze me, I'm going to remind you." There was a noise of rushing air as Svin blew hair away from his face.

"As crass as my accomplice might be, we're both interested in how we might fare against someone who seems _so formidable_ in combat." Svin rested his arm on Flat's shoulder, offering a cheeky grin as Blade returned his attention to the two of them.

"Well, I have no reason _not_ to fight anymore." Experimentally, the man with the scarf rotated his shoulder and tested its condition.

"You're seriously going to battle us both at once just like that?" Svin asked with some surprise. "You don't require any time to prepare or rest up?"

He shook his head, crossing both arms over his chest now that he was able. "I still want to go out for dinner tonight so the earlier the better."

Flat smiled just a little bit wider, threatening to split his face open if he went any further. "Then why not right now? We should be able to use the arena now that the qualifiers are over."

… … …

Blade rather boredly strode out to the far end of the arena, adjusting the gloves on his hands. "So how are we establishing the winner? Just like the tournament or first to bleed?"

Svin filled in on Flat's behalf, bouncing on his feet to get his blood moving. "Like the tournament is fine by me: until one side can no longer continue fighting."

"Then the bell to start can come from Lectra," came an ominous tone. Blade moved into a martial arts stance, keeping one fist ahead of his chest and the other tight to his hip.

"I still can't believe you're doing this, but I know you're too stubborn to back out now," his partner sighed from the sidelines. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor just behind the bounded field of the competitor's seating area. Dejectedly imitating a bell, she made a "ding-ding" and the battle began.

Immediately, Flat looked toward Blade and chanted "game select" to lock him in place. Surprisingly, the man froze up on the spot. Flat made a proud chuckle, pumping his fist while maintaining eye contact. "You're up, Svin!"

At the call of his name, the boy shot forward like a bullet. With Svin being a master in beast magecraft, he was able to augment his limbs with the powerful image of any beast he could imagine. As his nickname as the "Chicken Boy" alluded, he often used chicken legs or bird claws as his go-to. Insults aside, Svin was rather powerful and his beastly imagery always offered an edge to every altercation.

Halfway to their target, Flat grew confident that this was going to be an easy fight. There wasn't much anybody could do when they couldn't move. _Or so he thought_.

As if on cue, Swords rapidly appeared within the air above Blade, clouding the space like locusts. After the first dozen, Flat stopped counting and tried to warn his friend.

Before the first syllable could come out of his mouth, the projectile weapons had already been fired, both at Svin and _him_.

To say they were fast would be an understatement. They were speeding toward him like arrows and at best Flat had a second to prepare. Deciding that holding Blade was secondary to surviving sword-rain, Flat rapidly chanted "game select" once more to select the oncoming projectiles as a whole.

The extreme velocity of the weapons coupled with the fact that they were a mystery developed by another magus meant they couldn't be frozen like normal physical objects as easily. Instead, Flat had to redirect their path to strike somewhere in the distance behind him.

Then the noise of rushing air at his side stripped his attention once more. A blade was mere feet from him, coming in fast toward his chest. With no possible way to stop it through magecraft, Flat leapt to the side, watching as the tip impacted his shoulder - and exploded.

Like it had been a bubble, as soon as the sword impacted him it just vanished into blue-gold sparks. Rolling across the ground to stand, Flat refocused on where their opponent had been, finding a blade levelled at his nose. Uncrossing his eyes and following the spine of the weapon, he was put face-to-face with the cold orange eyes of Blade. Looking behind him, Flat watched Svin desperately try to claw his way out of a cage made entirely of blades. For each weapon he managed to destroy, two more took its place.

Slowly lifting up his hands in surrender, Flat couldn't help but smirk. Simultaneously, he and blade echoed the same two words: "Game over."

… … ...

… … …

It was Sunday, the day of rest. Rather than attend church or offer prayers up to some mythical non-existent being, Kiritsugu put his time into something much more useful and tangible: maintaining his armoury.

It had been a ritual for him since his time working alongside Natalia. Every Sunday and after each use, Kiritsugu tore apart his equipment and rebuilt it to working condition. With the pieces of several pistols strewn about his desk, he paused for a small break, leaning back in his chair to let his eyes rest from the harsh lighting against miniature parts. After so much repetition, he was an expert in nearly all conventional firearms. It only took him ten minutes to disassemble, clean and reassemble a jammed weapon.

A knock on his door sent him upright and before he could find a way to conceal his musings, it cracked open to let Missy's fingers in. "I don't mean to intrude, Mr. Emiya but-" she paused upon spotting what he was working on, eyes recognizing the threat instantly. Rather than leave hurriedly as he had expected, she actually took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.

He took a second to debate what he might have been able to say. Eventually, he decided that it was best to ignore the issue entirely. "Yes, Missy? What did you come to speak to me about?"

The woman blinked, eyes casually stirring from the mess of parts and pieces strewn about his desk to his own unmoving eyes. "Ms. Fujimura called for you. I told her you would call back at your earliest convenience." She took a hesitant step forward but locked up when he narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"I appreciate that, thank you."

"I hope you don't take it as rude or intrusive, but would you mind if I watched you work?" Kiritsugu was surprised, but he didn't allow the emotion to appear on his face. Missy hardly asked for anything directly, going about it indirectly through suggestions or absent comments about her desires. To ask outright was something new for her.

Looking between her and the pieces on his workspace, he couldn't quite find a reason to turn her down. "If you're interested, there's no reason to stop you." Turning to face forward in his chair, the girl enthusiastically moved toward the side of his desk, crouching partly to get a good view. For someone who had never seen a gun in person before, she seemed awfully interested in the pieces ahead of her.

Picking up where he left off, he began assembling the slide of the weapon he was fiddling with. Since he had a spectator, he decided that he should at least explain what he was doing. "The slide in my hands belongs to a-"

"Glock-18, a special order of the Austrian government and the only select-fire variant of the Glock-17, right?" Missy recited information like she had known it all her life, speaking about a gun as casually as the weather. He could only blink, turning to face her with some confusion.

"I don't remember buying you any books that might have told you any of that." Partway through his words, she seemed to realize what she had just said, furrowing her brow while her eyes flickered in deep thought.

"And I don't remember reading anything quite like that either," she paused, looking at him directly before turning on her heels to move toward the door. Before she could, he caught her hand and made the girl squeak in surprise.

"Hold on one moment, let me test something." Releasing her hand when he was confident she would stay, he stood and gestured toward his chair. "Have a seat," he suggested, gesturing once more to coax her into settling down. When she was seated, he moved behind her and looked over her head down at the table.

"What would you like me to do, Mr. Emiya?" she asked softly, hands twitching on her knees while her head moved between the parts of four separate pistols ahead of her.

"Humour me and try to put these weapons back together." Her head twitched, turning slowly to look up at him with confusion clearly written on her face. Nodding forward, she seemed to understand that he was serious and she cautiously reached out to pick up the slide he had just been working on.

Unlike most firearm owners, Kiritsugu was incredibly methodical in that each weapon underwent regular detail stripping. Each gun he owned was in immaculate condition only because they were restored to like-new condition after each use.

His total dismantling seemed to do little to halt Missy, however. While her hands trembled and there was obvious uncertainty in her motions, she was maintaining a steady pace while successfully finding and applying pieces.

It was almost as if she had at one point been familiar with what she was doing, only it was so long ago that she was forced to operate by feel. He watched with mild interest as she completed the slide and moved onto the body, assembling a complete pistol from pieces within fifteen minutes.

Cautiously, she set the weapon down onto the table and looked over her fingers questioningly. Breathing out a lungful through his nose, Kiritsugu leaned back from the chair and leaned his hip against his bed. "Rebuild the next three, I will collect more weaponry for you to work on."

"But I-"

"We might have stumbled upon something relevant to your memories, it would be a good idea to strike while the iron is hot, as it were."

… … …

… … …

A reverberating clang echoed throughout his skull, painfully jarring Shirou awake. Snapping upright in his bed, he pushed one palm to his forehead to force away the pulsating agony that rang through his skull. When it failed to ebb away, he hissed to the cool night air and looked down at himself. His entire body was twitching, every muscle alive and active like he was hooked into a strange full-body muscle stimulator.

Activating his circuits, he chanted those cursed words, " **I am the bone of my sword.** " The clanging that had initially awoken him returned, as did the scent of molten metal and the ambient crackle of roaring flame. Throwing the covers off his body as his circuits began heating his skin, Shirou looked over both hands, clenching and opening them several times.

He mumbled the words over a few times, trying to determine what they even meant and where he had heard them in the first place. The former he could piece together while the latter only gave him a pounding headache. Trying to concentrate on _who_ or _what_ had given him access to that information only resulted in pain.

His dream had been about _that_ place again. While he still had no idea what it looked like, it felt eerily familiar. That sense of familiarity was the only way he knew it was the same place as before.

For an inexplicable reason, he felt as if he had reached a wall with his reality marble. As if two lines were all he would be able to accomplish, regardless of how much effort he put into developing it. If such a thing were the case, it would be a good idea to allocate more of his time toward a realistic goal.

Deactivating his circuits, Shirou looked over his hands. To make his father happy and to protect his friends, he needed to be stronger. If Shirou simply had access to more mana, he could easily deal with any threats to his family. Though he had access to more, didn't he? He had converted his nerves into circuitry before when he was younger. It had allowed him to cast magecraft without knowing how to properly access mana. What could be the possible harm in doing it again?

Instantaneous death, crippling of limbs and circuitry-based mana implosion all leapt to mind, but those were all for _normal_ people. Shirou was far from anything considered normal. Not only did he have a matching element and origin, but there was a centuries-old relic of the Fae embedded within his body. It had saved him from killing himself when he first converted his nerves, why wouldn't it keep him alive now?

Repeating the words to begin his reality marble, an all-too-familiar pain struck him. The red-hot rod was jabbed into the base of his spine and his body began producing extreme amounts of heat. As the nerve expended all the energy it had once held, Shirou converted another to fuel his hungry miracle.

With the pain and heat produced doubled, Shirou stopped at two. With sweat turning to steam on the surface of his skin, the boy sat quietly in the darkness. He ran a quick trace of himself, decoding the deeper information to discover that only one of the two nerve circuits he made had actually bonded to his body's natural circuitry.

In theory, if he continued converting his nerves into circuitry, even once a day with a fifty percent success rate, he could potentially expand his reserves with dozens of trash-tier circuits. While each nerve circuit would barely hold two units of mana, it was more than he had previously and that was all he could've asked for.

Deciding he had tortured his body enough, Shirou spared a glance at the clock on his night table. Five in the morning was a touch earlier than he usually woke up, but it was close enough that he decided to stay awake. He could use the time to exercise longer or prepare for the Magus Tournament tonight.

The real Tournament had begun on Monday, and it was nothing like the qualifiers. First and foremost, Shirou's trip to the screening area had taken twenty minutes longer than usual because the halls and area outside were packed with fans and idle competitors. Secondly, the competitor seating area that had previously been empty was now jammed full of other magi chatting amongst one another. Last but far from least, the announcer had taken on a fresh breath of life and had hammed the entire introduction performance.

Even the competitors themselves were more liberal, gesturing toward the invisible audience and flaunting their success after a victory. It was much more about showmanship than respect. There was also a large difference in both the quality and quantity of the contestants. As Shirou had found out, the strongest of the first-years barely qualified as the weakest of the main event. Shirou actively found himself struggling to pull his way through. While he could have used his more lethal techniques to fast-track battles, the thought of harming someone solely to make a spar easier didn't sit well with him.

Closing the door to his room after exiting, Shirou looked down the hall to Octavia's desk. Even though he had seen Bazett a couple of days ago, she still hadn't given him any word personally. The only explanation was that she was having trouble reaching him in the Clock Tower. Mulling the matter over, he decided to pay a visit to her house when he wasn't busy fighting magi in his evenings.

Tapping on the hard stone surface to get her attention, he gave a silent question with his eyes. Fluidly understanding his meaning, she read off a chart beside her. "Since you've won two consecutive battles in a row, you'll be squaring off against a high ranking C-tier magus known as Kiera Eliphas. Should you win that battle, you'll fight the victor of a B-tier battle between Ayaan Turner and Ivan Gregori." Settling the page down, she beamed up at him, clasping her hands on the desk. "Anything else I can do for you, Faker?"

Logging the names down in his mind, he stumbled over _Ayaan_. That was the pig-headed blond who had threatened to tear him apart. Oddly enough, their brief encounter in the cafeteria had committed the name into memory. Kiera also rang a bell, but at the moment he couldn't quite remember since his mind was cluttered with Modern Magecraft theories. Instead, he decided to ask a question regarding another pressing matter. "My name is _Faker_ now?"

The receptionist shrugged passively, maintaining her painted smile. "It's what I've heard being thrown around. It makes sense, considering what you do."

Shirou hummed, considering whether he liked the new nickname or not. Eventually, he concluded that it was irrelevant. "Any other news?"

"You'll be happy to hear that Flake has made a semi-full recovery. He has come out of his coma and has been seen stumbling around his room a few times. It seems that his legs aren't functioning one-hundred percent, but at the very least he isn't crippled." It was odd to hear morbid details being relayed through smiling lips, but Shirou didn't let that bother him.

"I'll have to pay him a visit sometime," he began, pulling away from the counter.

Octavia leaned back in her chair, producing a creak from the unoiled joints. "As far as I know, both you and Lectra are unable to visit on his request. It seems he wants nothing to do with either of you and all charges have been dropped."

"So Lectra is off probation? That's great news," he assumed, watching Octavia's smile widen.

"While Flake Ortenrood may not be pressing charges, the Clock Tower still is." Seeing his reaction, she answered the question caught in his throat. "It's on grounds of Tournament rule infringement. Lectra intentionally injured a competitor beyond what was necessary and for that, she'll be punished."

Shirou sighed in defeat. "There's not really much I can do for her then, is there?"

" _You?_ Not at all, although…" she trailed on, pausing for a brief moment before shaking her head partly. "Nevermind, it was just a stupid thought." Giving the girl a strange look, he decided that it would take too much effort to try and weasel any information out of her.

"Well thanks anyway," he stated genuinely. Stepping away from the counter he waved partly with one hand and took off down the hall. "Have a good morning, Octavia."

… … …

… … ...

Putting on the Tournament suit was becoming significantly more routine. He had memorized the parts which typically got caught or twisted and required fixing and had cut the time of put-on and take-off to about five minutes, three if he was rushing.

While fighting new competitors who could actually defend themselves was a little more exciting, he certainly found the lack of a partner lonely. Without Lectra around to ask questions or be her general energized self, these battles felt unimportant.

Sighing, he projected his true outfit overtop his existing suit and strode out into the hall to try and find a spot in the competitor seating area.

Oddly enough there was, a single open chair at the front even though several people were standing to watch the battle. It was almost as if the other contestants had left it specifically for him, how kind.

… … …

Standing across from his next opponent, Shirou rapidly recalled all that he knew about them. Kiera Eliphas, close friend or possible significant other to Ayaan Turner, user of a strange magecraft that broke the mind of other magi. Beyond that, he really didn't know much about her.

Placing one hand on her hip, she looked him over and scoffed. "I wonder how you'll feel after getting beaten up by a girl."

Shirou snorted, shaking his head through a chuckle. "It's happened before and it will happen again but it won't be to you, that I can be sure of. I've met plenty of women in my life who are powerful, some even more than myself." He shrugged, holding up his hands. "I don't really see how them being women really matters."

Kiera's face flushed red, pompous stance faltering as she reached behind her back to withdraw a whip. The very plain, standard bullwhip made him want to roll his eyes. The announcer boomed for the fight to commence and Shirou immediately felt off. He couldn't quite determine why or how, but something wasn't right anymore.

"Did you know that whips are the most easily exploited weapon? There's a reason we only use them on livestock you know!" Tracing his bow into his outstretched hands, arrows leaped to mind and became overcharged with mana. He wasn't expecting her to go down so easy, he merely wanted to test her ability with a whip. If she was any good, his arrow would be struck out of the air.

Unexpectedly, he fumbled when trying to draw back the string on his bow. Taking an instance to look over his fingers, he realized that he was exactly half an inch off where he should have been. In the midst of questioning _why,_ alarms went off in his head and he faced forward to see the tip of a whip moments away from colliding with his face.

He tried to lean backwards to duck underneath the attack, but instead practically flung himself flat onto his back. Rather than making a crack as the tip fully extended, the end of the whip practically exploded with compressed blades of wind, slicing the area in every direction.

At the very least, he hadn't been caught in the attack, but his position was far from ideal. "My my, I must admit I'm surprised. Even though I hold a greater number of circuits in higher quality, you are still able to defend against my mental invasion." The silver-haired woman smirked like a wolf leering over a sheep. "I suppose I'll just have to get a little more personal. Though, with you floundering about it won't be too hard."

Gritting his teeth, Shirou kicked both legs over his head, rolling to his feet and reinforcing his body as much as he could. He had no idea how this invasion worked, but somehow she was slowing his reactions and throwing his body off center. What made it worse, was that the degree or area of effect was randomized each time, he had no way of adjusting.

Projecting Elizabeth's altered blades into his hands, he watched as one appeared three inches in front of him. Having to stretch to grab the handle, a sickening chuckle rang through his ears. He was being toyed with, she was amusing herself with his fumbling.

Moving into a slightly ajar stance, Shirou shook his head to rid a feeling of nausea and fogginess. "If you're so confident, why don't you try and come at me?" Shirou growled, imaging several simple blades. Unlike the other battles where his bombardments had been hollow weapons that would cause no harm, this time he was using the real deal.

If her supposed mental invasion saw beneath his mask or could see his memories, he and his family in Fuyuki would pay the price. Even Bazett would be in danger. Kiera huffed, cracking her whip around her a few times.

She took two steps forward, then quickly rained down blows. Trying to block and parry with his swords wasn't working as it should have. He couldn't slice them outright due to the whip being reinforced and he couldn't parry or block either because each time he did, his reactions weren't quick enough to pull the blade back before it was already wrapped up and being thrown from his hand.

He was caught in a cycle of clumsily projecting and sacrificing swords to protect himself. On the sixth set of blades, he projected one that was simply out of his reach and took a heavy blow to the shoulder. Upon impact, it felt like he had been crushed by several converging walls, pressure from all sides making powder of his bones. It was a disgusting, grinding noise that still reached his ears as he was thrown backward from the impact.

Landing on the dirt with a groan, he remained in place for some time, staring up at the ceiling as he caught his breath. "After all your battles you're still just a weak-minded magus at the end of the day. After defeating you, I'll be able to claim a spot beside Ayaan as a B-tier magus." Somehow, her voice seemed even _more_ condescending than Luvia when she referred to Reines.

Grunting, Shirou rolled onto his front and pushed himself up with one hand. Even with one arm demolished, he was still in the fight. "You should focus more on fighting and less on talking."

Taking a little longer than usual, Shirou projected a thin chain to wrap around his arm and body as a rudimentary splint. Raising one hand, the light-shooting rapier formed just off to the side of his hand. Eventually gripping the handle, Shirou forced mana into the tool. With light, imprecise jabs, he scattered shots of thin light beams at Kiera's position. A touch late to react, a beam of light grazed her hip. The cry of pain she made was almost as loud as the sizzle of flesh. Coming to her senses, the whip snapped up to wrap around his good wrist.

Shirou tried to yank Kiera toward him through the whip, but his muscles failed to obey and he was sent stumbling toward her instead. In the same motion, she made a swirling motion with her other hand and a sudden gale collided with his back. Already off balance, Shirou was sent sprawling on his chest just feet away from her. He suddenly felt as if he were being sat on. Shirou could hardly even lift his head to watch her place a foot on his back.

Grunting as she ground her heel in his back, he tried in vain to move even a finger. He came to the rapid realization that her ability was based on _proximity_. She had been trying to get him closer all along and it finally made sense.

Withdrawing her foot, she kneeled down to his level, whispering in his ear as he sat immobilized. "Has anyone ever told you the story of the last competitor I faced, Adam Enfield? Believe it or not, he did kill himself." Her hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up roughly. "Although I planted some very convincing suggestions in that thick head of his to push him to the edge. So why don't I see beneath that scarf of yours and treat you to the same experience at the same time?" she hissed, wrapping her other hand around his eyes.

… … …

… … …

… … …

It was dark here, peaceful in a way. It was warm here, cozy and inviting - Shirou didn't want to leave. Although, someone was calling his name, one of them at least. Rather than being panicked or afraid, the tone was soothing and motherly in a way.

There was a brief snapping sound and his eyes fluttered open to a beautiful sight. It was Sakura, standing in the doorway of the stone shed. One hand reached up to the right side of her head to tuck back the strand of hair tied with a ribbon, all while rays of dawning sun illuminated her face lovingly. The air within the shed was musty, stagnant and chilled. But with the door sitting wide open, the scent of spring, erratic bird chirping and warm rays of sun began to fill the space.

Shirou sat up abruptly, feeling the blood rush from his head as he looked over his hands back to front. "I'm back in Fuyuki?" he mumbled, looking up to his childhood friend who stared back with worry.

"Senpai, are you feeling alright?" Abruptly, her hand reached out to touch his forehead. The sensation of her skin on his tingled and warmed his very core. The girl hummed, declaring that he "felt normal". "Though if you aren't feeling well, you can stay home."

More confused than ever, Shirou raised a hand to his forehead. "What happened? I was…" He blinked, finding his memories impossible to access. If was different to being unable to remember something. Forgetting events still left foggy remnants he could piece together, it certainly didn't feel like an empty void. The thought brought on a sense of déjà vu which he quickly placed. It was the same memory loss problem he had following his obscure dreams, those few differing from the Great Fire.

"You were practicing your reality marble all night again," she huffed, pushing out her lower lip. "Illya and I both think you're pushing yourself too hard and if you keep it up, you're going to hurt yourself." She bent down to his level again, looking deep into his eyes. "With how you're acting, you might have already."

Shirou furrowed his brow, looking off to the side as he concentrated on his memories. Something wasn't right, everything felt wrong, but he couldn't explain _why_. "Where's the old man?" he suddenly asked, moving to stand. In the middle of his motions, he was able to look around his workshop. He couldn't tell _what_ , but some specific things were absent.

"Having a cup of coffee with Missy and Bazett as always, why?" The confusion on her face rapidly grew to worry and _fear_.

Abruptly as he stood, Shirou continued his questions. "What's my favourite colour?"

"Orange - Senpai, you're scaring me." Sakura took a step back, holding onto her hands in front of her chest.

"Is Rin Tohsaka your sister?"

"I don't see how-"

Shirou narrowed his eyes, taking a step forward for each step she took back. "Is my sister a homunculus?"

"Yes!" Sakura shouted in panic, stepping out of the shed into the backyard.

Shirou gave his head a rough shake, closing his eyes. "Besides Illya, only three other people know that information." Both hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Kiritsugu Emiya, Shirou Emiya and whoever _you_ are."

Sakura, who had admittedly been acting normally passably well, suddenly stood tall and smirked mischievously. It was sickening to see a girl he knew to be so timid making such a grimace. He had put things together so quickly due to minute inconsistencies. His workshop had been missing his father's safe and the specimen Rin had broken looking for bath salts had been fully intact. While those might have been easy to miss, "Sakura" wearing the ribbon on the _right_ side of her head wasn't.

"You really are messed up. You had so many memories crammed into your head that it was like you lived three entire lives." As the fake Sakura spoke, the world around him dissolved into an empty black space. White circles sat just below him and his fake friend. The warm and inviting feeling faded immediately, replaced with a smothering, cold depression.

With this new scene change, memories of past events came reeling back to him. He was a competitor in the Magus Tournament, he was fighting a woman named Kiera Eliphas and she had somehow brought him _here_ , a place he could only assume was his mind. "Blame my father for that," he remarked, snarling at the desecrated image of his friend.

"Yes, your father, the renowned Magus Killer. I understand why you are such a formidable opponent in the arena, being his disciple and all. Though, looking that far back in the past is rather boring, why don't we look at something a little more recent?" Like a transition in a low-budget movie, an incredibly blurry image of the harbour of Fuyuki popped into place, focusing as time passed. A cool sea breeze settled into place, marred with a thick coppery scent of spilled blood. Just off to the side were three distinct bodies piled on top of one another in various states of injury.

"Slaughtering an enforcer and two freelancers in cold blood on your own, all while using banned magecraft that would place you as a sealing designate no less." She made clicking noises with her tongue, waving her finger. "Naughty, naughty." Chuckling hollowly, she paced to the side. "I don't think I'm going to have you kill yourself anymore, that seems too basic. In fact, I think I'll turn you in to the Association and be rewarded for it." She stopped, twisting on her heels to look at him. "Of course, I'll destroy most of your reasoning to keep you nice and docile so that you can't weasel your way out of my plans."

"If you get the chance," he barked, clenching his fists and calling for the activation of his circuits with mental imagery. Heat blossomed on his back as his crest reinforced his body with mana.

The false Sakura faded away finally, vile image of a smirking silver-haired woman appearing. "If you've failed to notice, you're stuck in your own mind with no control. I hold all the strings here, and you're just my adorable little puppet." To accent her point, she motioned with one finger and forced his body to step back to a healthy distance.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth with a harsh scowl. "You know everything about me?" Rolling her eyes, she gave an overemphasized nod. "Then you've become a threat to me and my family." Thoughts of Kiritsugu and Illya massacred flickered around his mind. Visions of cold, red eyes staring up at him asking why he had let her down, why he had caused her death. As if sensing a disturbance, the harbour seemed to _melt_ around them, surprising the silver-haired woman. "And you've put me in a place where going all out isn't going to come back and bite me."

"Aren't you forgetting that I control you entirely here?" There was a crack in her voice, indicating that she wasn't even sure of that herself anymore. The sea-breeze faded away, and the buildings began to ooze downward like heavy oil.

Raising his head, he glared at a new threat with fury in his eyes. "You made a mistake. A reality marble is the outward projection of someone's inner world. If it's strong enough to rewrite the world itself, then what chance do you have of holding it back?" He shouted, taking a step forward as the scenery became colour-smeared masses of viscous fluid.

She opened her mouth to speak, but " **I am the bone of my sword** " cut her off. While the harbour continued to melt into a congealed mass, something new flickered beneath. It was bright, standing out from the dim scene immediately. Tears in the "walls" of the harbour began to poke through as if someone was stabbing holes into a canvas.

"What do you think you're doing? You're going to kill me?" she asked, suddenly realizing her situation. She had gone through his memories, she knew exactly what happened to people who threatened his family. "You can't! You'll be investigated by the Clock Tower!"

"I'll kill you here and hope that your real body dies with whatever you are. They won't investigate me if you die to your own magecraft!" Shirou barked, opening his hands so they could be filled with Elizabeth's blades. As commanded, they appeared in all their green and silver glory. There was no reason to hide their real identity anymore, Kiera knew much more incriminating details than where his swords came from. " **Steel is my body and fire is my heart**." At the end of the second line, a ring of fire six feet high exploded from his feet, rapidly expanding outward to consume the area entirely. The fire lacked heat, but a wind carrying hot air had spawned from nowhere.

As the flame ring expanded, the environment shifted into something entirely new. Beneath their feet was a large expanse of cracked red earth with small tufts of grass sporadically strewn about. Matching the grass in random placement, were large sections of _burnt_ earth. As if a blowtorch had been taken to the ground, charred black bits crackled and popped with residual heat. Impaled in the ground in every direction were the weapons he had "collected" over the years. The weapon types didn't end at swords, extending to hammers, maces and everything in between. In the distance, Shirou could easily spot the mystic code bo staff and the magecraft parrying shield. In the sky, beaming extreme heat onto the ground below, was a large burning ball of orange flame. Unlike the sun, this ball was threateningly close, enough to see each individual lick of fire.

In the distance behind Kiera rose a large hill of barren clay. On the very peak were two swords of emerald green and silver which were crossed at the guard. "You're crazy, you can't do this," she repeated, taking large steps backward. "Even if I can't control you, I can still battle you with your own abilities!"

Before Shirou's own eyes, the woman became a carbon copy of himself and familiar blades appeared over her shoulders. It was almost like he was looking in a mirror, although this copy was significantly more terrified than the original.

A blade was fired from the growing collection, grazing Shirou along his side as he simply sidestepped. Rather than leave internal organs behind, the wound was sealed with sword-scale, fortified for the next impact.

The first sword was all that Kiera launched, staring at the wound she inflicted with sheer horror for some time before resuming her barrage. With the blades within his hands, he slashed oncoming weapons out of the air, breaking both weapons as the identical miracles cancelled one another out entirely.

Growing tired of deflecting and breaking swords, Shirou formed his own barrage of weaponry. Unlike out in the real world, his weapons appeared instantaneously. If Shirou had to guess, it was likely a feature of being within his reality marble.

Rather than run or sprint to his opponent, Shirou _walked_ , watching the panic spread across Kiera's face as he neared. She was climbing the hill backwards, putting her all into skewering him with blades but each volley was repealed by an identical one. Very few managed to get by, but those were easily dealt with by a slash of the blade in his hand.

As if the world had been helping to close the distance, Shirou closed in on his identical copy to within ten feet, climbing the clay hill to its peak. "Stay back you freak, you monster!" his own voice shouted to him, but the words fell on deaf ears.

His copy stumbled as their hips backed into the copy of Elizabeth's blades, a memento for his deeds, a reminder of the blood on his hands. He had killed four people in total, but Elizabeth was the only one to leave him with a symbol.

Continuing to walk up the hill, Shirou watched his copy project two inferior blades before moving into a shoddy-looking stance. Why she switched to swords instead of using a known weapon like the whip was beyond him. Closing the distance between them, Shirou deftly swatted away the poor defence created by his copied self, throwing both of his copies' hands to the side so that their midsection was wide open.

The swords in his hands swung to the front, thrusting forward into the stomach of his doppelganger. There was a strange "urk" noise as both weapons seated themselves. Shirou watched as his own eyes and hair turned into dull silver, Kiera's true image returning as she gripped onto the weapons running her through. Rage and disgust enough to match his own face spread across her features.

"You're a _monster_ , a freak of nature." She paused to spit in his face, a mixture of saliva and blood which landed on his cheek. "You're so broken, you can't even be killed in your own mind." With trembling hands, the girl reached up to wrap both hands around his neck. With her failing strength and blood-covered fingers, she couldn't get a grip decent enough to choke him. "Your life will be cursed, Shirou Emiya, mark my words." Sucking in a breath through blood-stained teeth, she bared her teeth like a wild animal, scowling heavily.

Shirou clenched his hands around the grips of each sword, reciprocating her gaze with one of his own in equal intensity. "I'll do whatever is necessary to protect the ones I love, even if that means being cursed a thousand times over." There was a gasp of air before Shirou yanked his blades upward and out. Dismissing his weapons, Shirou lifted his head to watch the world crumble away like a shortbread cookie.

This was his inner world?

It seemed so barren and hostile. To think that this was his true identity brought a chill to his spine. "An empty, charred wasteland filled with swords," he murmured, gazing up at the ominous ball of flame. Like cracks in a sheet of glass, black lines had spread across its entire surface until it seemed ready to explode. Closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth on his face, he mumbled one last thing as reality began to return.

"It fits me perfectly."

… … …

Shirou's eyes opened to hands. Two sets of fingers were concealing his eyes, allowing only a portion of the light beyond through. He realized that one set of those fingers were his own, that he was pressing the hand of his opponent into his face to keep it there.

Easing pressure from his own hand let the woman's hand fall as well. It was awkwardly dragged away from him as the woman's body collapsed to the side with a thump. Mobility in his body was returned to him and with it, he used his one good arm to push himself off the dirt. Standing, he looked over the crumpled form of his opponent whilst an eerie silence blanketed the arena.

She wasn't moving.

Her chest wasn't rising and her eyes maintained a distant look. It was unlike the hollow, vacant eyes of a traditional corpse. The only way Shirou could describe it was by comparing it to a wild animal locked in a glass box. A look of panic, hopelessness and despair.

Shirou had the darkest feeling that she was trapped in that final moment of anguish before the mental landscape broke down. Even after what she had planned, was it a justifiable punishment?

The stagnant silence continued as Shirou deactivated his circuits and allowed his projections to disappear. Taking a few steps back as a blend of emotions washed over him, the announcer broke the silence. "It seems that Kiera Eliphas has…" He trailed off and the door to the official's area raised to spew a half-dozen concerned looking people out. "I believe her own magecraft has backfired in some way, bear with us while the outcome is determined." As Shirou had expected, most of the attendants rushed to the deceased girl, checking her condition and verifying that she was in fact dead.

Shirou himself had hardly noticed the familiar old man giving him a shake while trying to ask what happened. The boy himself was lost in his own mind, having a great moral debate over his actions.

He had killed five people, how many more would threaten his family and force his hand? Closing his parted mouth, Shirou swallowed thickly and decided on one thing: He needed to find Flat so he could heal his shoulder again.

* * *

 **Not much to say at the end of this one. Remember to favourite, follow and leave reviews! If you can remember, please give some thanks to my beta for continuing to help me provide you all with quality writing. They put in an incredible amount of work and help me in many ways.**

 **Sorry again for what I can only expect will be a large delay between this chapter and the next. It's nothing related to my personal life or anything which would give me an excuse at least, just some writer's block I suppose.**


	18. For Salvation

**EDIT:** **Stained is an awful movie. 3.4/10 stars and a sad rendition of Macbeth all around. Take it from Berix, folks: Avoid it.**

 **Contrary to popular belief, I'm _not_ dead and I've just been really slow at producing another chapter, sorry. I really hadn't intended for things to take an entire month, but sometimes it just happens. Had some problems with flow and some of the ideas that I had were better off being in the next chapter. Don't waste time trying to guess what they are, because you have no idea.**

 **Either way, I appreciate all of you for patiently waiting, but that crap is over! Give this chapter a read and show your love and appreciation!**

* * *

"Eleven rounds, five seconds, one-inch grouping at seventy-five yards," Kiritsugu commented, looking over a used paper target. Dead center in the crosshairs, sat a large hole punched out by multiple bullets. The pistol in Missy's oddly steady hands was still smoking partly at the tip.

"Is that good?" she asked, looking between him and the warm weapon in her grasp. Even though she looked at it with uncertainty, her actions and performance told him otherwise. She was entirely confident holding and using a gun, she merely didn't want to admit it.

"It's better than any average person for sure. The spread might be coming solely from the gun itself, something that can't be helped." Setting the target down, Kiritsugu approached the girl and silently observed her for a moment. When he eventually got around to speaking, he asked if she remembered anything.

Missy scrunched up her face in thought, looking distantly toward the ground. "With every bullet, I get blurry glimpses into memories I can't place. Each glimpse is from a different point in time and none of them seem to line up."

"What are these glimpses showing you, can you place them anywhere or discern anything notable?" Kiritsugu pressed, taking the pistol calmly from her hands.

The girl gave a saddened shake of her head, squeezing her eyes shut in deep thought. "A basement," she eventually blurted out. "All I can remember is a dimly lit basement. I think there was an unmade bed there as well."

Kiritsugu sighed softly, tapping her hands with a new pistol, an indication that she was to take hold. While her eyes opened, both hands unconsciously wrapped tight around the grip of the pistol. Slim fingers contoured to the grip and went rigid with experienced steadiness. With ease, the girl levelled the weapon and proceeded to fire rounds downrange into another, previously blank paper target.

Seemingly without care, Kiritsugu lobbed the original, albeit reloaded, pistol in Missy's direction, watching as her eyes and body snapped to react. One hand left its place on her original pistol, seamlessly moving to snag the new weapon from the air. Using her other occupied wrist as a rest, Missy autonomously emptied the new pistol downrange, looking over her own unmoving hands with bewilderment shortly after.

"You react as if this is brand new while your body seems to think it's as natural as breathing." Kiritsugu placed one hand on the weapons in Missy's hands, lowering both to point downward. "I believe I know what occupation you had before losing your memory." The girl turned to look him in the eyes, features reminding him of a lost puppy.

No, there was more to it than that. It was like she had lost everything and with his next revelation, she would lose it again. He recognized it from experience, and a sense of familiarity tugged at his mind.

Just who was this woman?

… … …

… … …

For the first time, Shirou was thankful to have two Lord friends in the Clock Tower. Because of his connections, he had been spared from the worst treatment. According to Reines, without her influence, he would have been strapped down to a table in a small, cramped room and put through fierce questioning like in an early evening crime show on TV.

Instead, she had taken him back to the El-Melloi viewing quarters near the arena, a private place deemed neutral enough by the staff members organizing the Tournament. She had sworn on her honour that she would not allow him to leave, and she hadn't lied. Upon entering, he had practically been forced into a chair and instructed to wait until he was called for. Standing behind him, she held up conversation all while doing something that baffled him entirely, playing with his hair.

"Deaths in the Magus Tournament are taken very seriously. It's one thing for there to be a grievous injury or incapacitation, it's understandable for what sort of event is taking place." Reines lifted strands of his hair, looking through their roots curiously. "But death is an incredible loss, it's less about the person and more about the mystery they were capable of."

Shirou couldn't help but feel agitated about that comment. He knew magi were cold and heartless but was their death really only significant because of the loss of miracles? "It was never my intention to cause any deaths."

"Of course, you don't seem like the type." Reines' hands dove into his hair, thoroughly messing it up by spiking it high.

"What does that mean?" he asked, trying to look up at her with his eyes only.

"You're not a magus. Nobody else seems to notice, but I can see it plain as day." She paused, humming while tugging painfully at the silver tuft near the front of his head. "You're simple, painfully honest and you try your best to do what's right."

Shirou let the girl play with his hair as he mulled over the words in silence. "Those definitely sound like qualities that would be counter-intuitive to becoming a magus."

Reines mumbled the next few words, but Shirou was able to decipher it entirely. "But perfect to exploit and find pleasure in." Before Shirou could bring the comment up, the door behind him opened and a stern voice demanded him by his alias. Standing, he fixed his hair and turned to face a burly man who eclipsed the entire doorway.

"I apologize for the intrusion Miss Archisortie, but he's needed for interrogation now." The burly man nodded to one side before crossing his gorilla-like arms over his chest expectedly.

… … ...

A man in thick blue robes spread his arms wide. "It's quite easy to see that Kiera Eliphas merely overextended her magecraft and affected herself rather than her intended target, Haruto." The man defending Shirou's case was seventy-three, with deep, wise brown eyes between wispy, silver hair on both the top and bottom of his head. The hair missing from the top of his head had all gone directly to his beard, evidently. He looked around the room through glasses hanging off the very end of his nose. While his age might have been respectable alone, he also happened to be the lord of the Meluastea family, one of the three main political families of the Tower. While Shirou would have never expected such a person to stand up for him willingly, Elizar Meluastea had.

Several people immediately rose to anger at the declaration and the entire room lit up with various comments in differing volumes. Just as quickly as the room had started arguing, it fell silent when Lorelei Barthomeloi stood from her seat. All it took to silence a band of rowdy magi was for one woman to make her presence slightly more known.

The room they were in was a converted parliamentary area, where seats were spread around the edges. Like a theatre or auditorium, the seats gradually stepped down toward an open area near the bottom. In the middle of the room at this bottom plateau, resided a small desk which Shirou occupied. Across from him in the wall, was an area for the three political families. A three-tiered podium, like one might see placing victors in a competition, ominously gazed down.

Two of these seats were filled, with the third empty due to Meluastea being out in the open area. Lorelei Barthomeloi claimed the middle, highest seat which was just to the left of another magus, Nethandra Trambelio. With eyes of ice, the Vice Director panned the room to see if any would dare speak out against her silent demand for order. "Proceed with your statement, Meluastea," she calmly declared before gracefully seating herself.

Shirou felt infinitesimally small before the towering lords, not to mention the many eyes viewing him as a criminal from each side. It was as if he were a murderer attending a hearing. After thinking about it for a moment, that was exactly what he was. The old man in blue nodded respectfully toward the Vice Director, looking around the room as he cleared his throat. "Kiera was a C-tier magus, she was both inexperienced and overconfident as becoming magi often are." A mumbling agreement swept through the room. "As we witnessed during the beginning of the battle, she was able to disable Haruto with her normal ability and it was only when she attempted to use a new ability that an issue arose and Haruto was able to overpower her in some way."

Taking a second to swallow and breathe, the lord faced Shirou directly. "Unfortunately, only Haruto could see with more than his eyes. He was the only one in contact with her at the time, after all, and who knows what played between their minds due to the physical contact. Only he knows the true events and we can only judge what our eyes witness..." The man shrugged, continuing to glare at Shirou like it would break the issue wide open.

"What bullshit," came a violently upset voice from the judgement box. Nethandra had stood from her seat, glaring down at Meluastea and Shirou collectively. She was a significantly younger woman by thirty-nine years precisely, making her thirty-four, though she hardly looked a day over twenty. Her features were soft and rounded, exactly the opposite of what one would expect from a lord nearly on par with Lorelei Barthomeloi. She had bright, yellowish eyes which packed an extreme amount of hatred, and thin lips that reminded him of a snake. She wore a fine designer dress in piercing neon green. The material flowed over her olive skin, spreading at the right thigh to reveal a great portion of a stocking-covered leg. To tie the outfit together, golden jewelry sat perched from every place it could. Bracelets, rings, earrings and necklaces all gleamed in the artificial lighting.

"The boy was quivering on the ground like a worm, he could hardly lift an arm against Kiera but you mean to tell me that she _still_ over-estimated him at that point?" She shook her head, scowling heavily. "There's something else at play here."

Meluastea hummed thoughtfully, raising a hand to scratch at his beard. "My, for the first time in over a decade you might be right, Nethandra. Have you ever indulged the possibility that _she_ intended to kill _him_?"

Trambelio pointed a finger menacingly, snarling like an animal. For a woman who appeared so submissive and diminutive, she was incredibly aggressive. "You dare accuse a dead woman instead of this no-name miscreant?"

"I am not accusing anyone of anything as of yet, Nethandra. We must take into account the facts and make our decision based on what is known." Lowering the hand from his beard, Meluastea clasped both hands behind his back. "This miscreant, as you called him, has shown incredible mercy throughout the entire tournament. The only occasion in which he has drawn blood was during the first-year qualifier against team fifty-two and if he hadn't-" the old man paused, his bubble of comprehension snapping while he suddenly turned to face Shirou. "Well, why don't you explain _yourself_ , boy? Tell us all exactly why you injured Ollia when every other competitor was eliminated from the fight in the most passive way you could manage."

A deathly silence descended on the room as every magus waited for Shirou to answer. The boy himself became acutely aware of his own heartbeat, pausing to listen and form his words while he stared at the old man. "Ollia was a special case," he began, placing both hands on the desk in front of him. "Her magecraft was powerful, even without a mystic code to support her. On her own power, she easily covered the entire arena in flames and smoke and seemed capable of sustaining it for some time. Instead of myself, I grew concerned over the three other people in the arena with me. The fire itself was damaging, but it was what the flames were doing to the air that was the more obvious issue. To fuel the blaze, most of the oxygen within the arena was consumed. If the fire continued burning, everyone present in the arena would suffocate and the risk of death would be high to both competitors and staff members aiming to perform a rescue." He paused to swallow and breathe. "I chose the outcome with the least risk of injury, aiming to stop Ollia with blades so she wouldn't cause undue harm to herself or others. Evidently, as we're all alive, I consider it a success."

Shirou pulled his hands back into his lap, looking around the room hesitantly to gauge the response. He had been honest while maintaining a disinterested tone to appear arrogantly innocent, as normal magi would be. A coursing wave of whispers travelled through the room while the old man simply chuckled, turned to the podium and spanned his arms. "Do I need to ask anything more?"

… … …

… … …

"This sucks," came a sudden outburst from the golden-haired Escardos.

Lectra lifted her head from the table, pulling hair away from her face. "Which part? That we have to wait here or that Blade has to fight for his innocence when it wasn't even his fault?" They were all seated around a simple white table outside of the hearing room. Two hours had gone by since Blade had entered and nobody had left since. Reines had been the only person from their group that was allowed in on account of her lordly status. The rest of them were forced to wait outside.

Flat made a small noise, leaned back in his chair and extending both arms in a stretch. He had been caught up in the event after Blade had come to him for healing. "Both, I guess. I don't think it's really fair for him to get treated like a criminal when he wasn't doing anything wrong."

Luvia swirled her fingers around the rim of a cup of water, contributing a thoughtful hum. "It _is_ sort of strange that she died to her own magecraft. It's not like she was inexperienced or trying something new."

Lectra frowned, offering the blonde a look of disbelief. "So you're going against Blade on this?"

Luvia shook her head with exhaustion. "I'm on nobody's side but my own. It's just coincidental that it happened against him of all people." Narrowing her eyes, she rested an elbow on the table with one hand covering her mouth.

From the side, leaning against the wall, Svin contributed his own position on the matter. "I don't think it's a bad thing for you to be skeptical. Taking everything with a grain of salt lets us determine what truly happened."

"Oh, so you _both_ think he did it," Lectra huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. With a soft thump, her head was gently replaced on the table top.

"There, there," Flat consoled, patting the girl's back. "I don't think Blade did anything bad. Even if he did, he couldn't have done it on purpose. When Svin and I fought against him, he did everything he could to win without causing any harm."

There was a monotonous hum of agreement from around the table as an awkward silence fell on all of them. It was hardly two seconds later that the door to the hearing room opened and magi began filing out with varied emotions on their faces. It was easy to spot Reines, identifiable features standing out immediately. Besides her looks, she was the only one walking straight toward their table rather than toward the exit.

When she neared, the girl merely looked between those present with a neutral face. After waiting a moment that was far from comfortable, Lectra grew impatient and kindly asked what had happened. "You wanted me to tell you?" the girl replied innocently. The corners of her lips twitched as four people around her collectively groaned. "Haruto Takahashi has been found innocent in the death of Keira Eliphas. There is no evidence that he was a direct cause and his history speaks against such an action."

Collectively, the eyes of everyone besides Reines locked onto the sight of Blade shuffling right behind the girl. "Rei, be nice. You agreed that you wouldn't mess with my friends."

The lord looked straight upward to look at him without turning her head as if she could see through the back of her skull. "I did, although I didn't promise." She closed her eyes, smirking to herself.

Rolling his eyes, Blade quickly looked toward a clock. "Since my trial is over, I'll need to get back to the Tournament so I won't be able to stay and talk."

"Wait a minute, that's it? You were in there for hours and now you're going back to fight?" Lectra asked, looking up at him with astonishment.

He scratched the back of his neck. "What can I say? The Clock Tower never sleeps."

… … …

… … …

Shirou couldn't help but feel that fighting Ayaan Turner after killing his girlfriend was a particularly _bad_ idea. It wasn't that he was scared he'd be unable to defeat him, fighting was the easy part. He was actually concerned about Ayaan's mental state. He could go one of two ways, but Shirou would only be able to tell once he saw the man.

Sitting in his dressing room was lonely as usual. Not only was he unable to leave, nobody else was permitted to enter it either. Lectra had only been able to sit in here with him during the end of the first-year qualifiers because she had been his teammate. While unable to participate in the battles themselves, the two could at least strategize between rounds. Or so, that was how it was explained to Shirou anyway.

Luvia was in the tournament, but he had known that since the beginning after her declaration of his involvement in a bet at the start of the year. Thankfully, she was already a B-tier magus so there was no chance of them fighting until the semi-finals, if either of them made it there. Shirou would have occupied his time talking with her, but she never left her dressing room to watch the other fights. Even when he had brought the matter up with her outside of the arena, she acted standoffish and aloof. It was like she was actively avoiding him during the Tournament.

Tugging at the cuff on his outfit, Shirou idly projected swords, creating a house of cards with hardened steel. After finishing that simple build, he took up a bottle of water, drained half of it in a few gulps and relaxed into the couch. Casually, he created a blade with an extended forming period, nonchalantly placing his bottle on its flat surface.

Shirou closed his eyes but rapidly opened them when he heard a thunk and splash. Looking to his side, he saw absolutely nothing when there was _supposed_ to be a blade there. Peering over the arm of the couch rewarded him with the sight of a spilled water bottle. Scowling, he wondered what had gone wrong. Deciding to see if it was simply an error on his part, he projected another horizontal blade directly ahead, extending its formation time in the exact same way as he remembered.

A skeletonized blade formed out of blue-gold mana, external layer filling in with translucent steel. Taking nothing more than his own hand, he moved his arm to press down on the sword itself. Just applying a slight force shattered the entire projection into rapidly dissipating sparks, sending his hand falling through. In the past, he had been able to do pull-ups from steel rods using this technique, so a simple push shouldn't have broken it in the slightest.

Going over the process several times revealed no problems and for once, Shirou was completely at a loss. The only explanation was that he was doing something wrong, wasn't it? The house of blades ahead of him dematerialized into gold and _blue_ sparks, a colour which clicked something in his mind. His projection magecraft had changed colours following the activation of his reality marble, so was this merely an effect of that? At least he had learned of the change before he attempted to use it in combat.

His train of thought was disrupted as the announcer beckoned his name to the arena. Autonomously, he stood and travelled from his dressing room to the harshly lit ring of the arena itself. The announcer carried on throughout his journey, trying to amp up the crowd with over-enthusiastic comments about his streak from the qualifiers to B-tier. Shirou himself couldn't be bothered to listen, focusing on the man walking out to the other side of the arena instead. He appeared confident, with raging fire behind his eyes and obvious hatred written on his features.

Like he had during the qualifiers, Shirou had watched every battle between each potential competitor when they appeared. As such, he had collected a considerable number of plain weapons with a handful of mystic codes to boot. Very few were actually useful, however, and most merely amplified a specific sort of magecraft. In Rin's hands, they would likely prove to be deadly weapons, but in his, they were absolutely useless. He could honestly cause more damage by throwing them or using the codes as blunt weapons.

Returning to the main thought at hand, he had watched everyone fight and as such, he knew that Ayaan Turner used nothing more than his own two fists. With the noble element wind, the man brutalized his opponents by compressing waves of air around his own body. Standing across from him, Shirou could practically feel the heat of anger flowing off the man. Shirou lifted both fists and narrowed his eyes in anticipation, waiting for the announcer to commence the fight.

When the booming voice began speaking, Ayaan did something unthinkable: He raised both arms in surrender. With no idea how to react, Shirou locked up, staring at his opponent with a questioning look. When neither of the two moved for a dozen seconds, Ayaan slowly began walking.

Hesitating, Shirou maintained his guard as the man approached, nearing a few feet before slowly lowering his hands and closing the distance to a few inches. Shirou maintained the reinforcement in his body but allowed the man to get closer still. Cautiously, as indicating he meant no harm, Ayaan leaned toward his ear and began whispering. "I knew what Kiera had planned and I have a decent understanding of what she was capable of," he started, moving one hand to grip onto Shirou as he tried to move away. "I know her limits, and I'm confident that you killed her while your minds were linked together, somehow."

He paused and the hand around Shirou's arm squeezed painfully. "If you managed that, then you're more of a monster than any of us had thought." Ayaan released his arm, forcefully pushing Shirou back by the chest. He shouted loudly now, making his words known. "So you win. I don't want to fight and even if I did, I don't really have a chance against you." The man turned and looked upward toward the ceiling. "I, Ayaan Turner, formally forfeit the Magus Tournament."

Nothing but silence responded, but the giant of a man faced Shirou once more. "I hope you're happy, _monster_."

… … …

Reines made a surprised hum, watching the two men below leave the arena without so much as a bruise. From the side, her brother contributed his thoughts. "It was to be expected. An enemy cannot fight without enough morale to support them, it's simple strategy."

The platinum blonde set her brow, placing both hands gracefully over the middle of her legs. "I believe you are confusing _morale_ and _insight_."

There was a large breath before a smooth exhale billowed smoke into the room. "You mean, Ayaan understood the situation - both during Kiera's fight and his own."

Reines nodded, watching the large man, Ayaan, pan his gaze around the arena scornfully. "Precisely so. I believe Ayaan understood what really happened in Blade's last fight. What baffles me is why he chose not to voice it during the trial."

Another puff of smoke. "Fear, most likely. Kiera Eliphas was a special individual who could invade the minds of other magi through contact. Perhaps what she saw ended up killing her and Ayaan simply doesn't want to be next."

Archisortie contemplated his thoughts for a moment, before smiling wide. "Another interesting addition to his appeal. Brother, you might have to deal with your recommendation whether he makes it into the top three or not." The man beside her offered a quizzical look, leading Reines to explain. "If you don't accept him as a student under your guidance, I'll claim him myself as my own apprentice, an assistant."

The drain of emotion on the Second Lord El-Melloi's face was incredibly amusing, as was the outburst that followed shortly afterward. Reines herself hardly minded, watching the boy below leave while her mind wandered.

If his mind really was that broken, could she break him even more? How hard would she have to push until he shattered and became the monster Ayaan believed him to be?

… … …

Shirou opened his door to Reines sitting on his desk; pausing as he looked her over, he decided that this was just how things would be around her. If it was inevitable, the best thing to do was go along with it. "Good evening, Rei." Closing the door behind himself, he let loose a lengthy sigh. "What might I have the pleasure of helping you with today?"

The girl gingerly dismounted from the desk, plodding up to him and motioning for him to get down on her level. Hesitantly obeying, he kneeled and was surprised when she pulled back his hood and starting toying with his hair. Her fascination with his hair confused him, but so long as it placated her he didn't really mind. "There's a problem with your friend, Lectra."

"What sort of problem?" he asked, narrowing his eyes to appear menacing, though since he was allowing her to play with his hair, how menacing could he really be?

"You would look so much better if you got your hair cut like this" she mumbled, setting her brow and scowling partly. Just as he was about to ask his question again, she answered. "Lectra's up for expulsion from the Clock Tower once more. Even without Flake pressing the matter, the other lords want to see her punished."

Shirou frowned, considering the implications. Asking _why_ wouldn't get him any decent answers. The reason could have been "it was merely something to do", or any other explanation that was equally as arbitrary. Instead, he asked, "Is there any way to change their minds?"

She nodded, tugging upward on the front part of his hair, pulling his bangs away from his forehead. "I could use the El-Melloi influence to sway their decision, but in order for me to utilize my resources, I will need you to do a few things for me."

He suddenly felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, with wolves at his back and certain death below. Like he was out of options and he was merely deciding _how_ he wanted to die. "What did you have in mind?"

The edges of Reines' lips twitched upward in a smile. "First things first, you're going for a haircut."

"You're willing to deal with magi politics just to change how my hair looks?"

The blonde scowled, gripped his hair and forcefully yanked back to direct his head painfully downward. "I wasn't done yet, you shouldn't interrupt me." Apologizing meekly, her scowl softened marginally. "Besides a haircut, I'll need you to tie up some loose ends." Expecting his question, she continued. All at once, the demure woman he knew faded away, replaced with a cold, calculating aristocrat. "These loose ends pertain to my brother. A couple of the other minor lord families have tried attacking his position as the Second Lord El-Melloi, digging up his history in an attempt at finding something they can abuse." The hand in his hair pulled free, slipping under his chin to direct his eyes into her own bright red ones. Shirou couldn't find anything but heartless business within. "This is a problem. Even allegations alone could force him from his position, something undesirable. If he were removed, I would be forced into his place and at this current time, I lack his political finesse."

Worry spread through his body at a rapid pace. His instincts were screaming at him, claiming something was wrong. "Sounds like a real problem. I'm guessing these families found something?" He didn't want to move his chin much to disturb her hand, so his words were mumbled partly.

She nodded curtly. "Unfortunately, he never had the foresight to cover his tracks in his younger years and they've discovered his involvement in a petty game between magi known as the _Holy Grail War_." Withdrawing the hand from his chin, she took a step back and clasped both hands behind her back. "From what my our own spies have been able to gather, these families hold incredibly sensitive, dangerous information." Her eyes sharpened ominously. "They intend to state his direct involvement in the murder of the first Lord El-Melloi and his wife, whose name I can't be bothered to remember." Fanning her hand in exasperation, she took a breath before continuing. "My brother has already admitted his involvement in their deaths to me personally and we have privately established a recompense."

Reines closed her eyes and paused for some time. The pit in his stomach grew heavier. While the Holy Grail War itself wasn't particularly hidden knowledge, its events and details typically were. This was mainly due to the fact that most magi deemed it ineffective and impractical. Shirou was more interested in how other individuals discovered this information than the information itself. "If it's already been handled, I fail to see the issue," he admitted, hoping this was as far as the rabbit hole went.

She opened one eye, biting her lip to reveal a sharpened upper canine. "Involving the other families introduces complications, however, it fails to end there. They are going to fabricate allegations that he worked alongside the dreaded _Magus Killer_. If that happens to be made public, both of us will be removed from any position of power until the truth, whatever that might be, is discovered."

All at once, he realized the source of his dread. It was a threat to his family leering its ugly head into the picture. Shirou felt his jaw clench reflexively and the words came spilling from his mouth autonomously. "What do you need me to do?" Speaking the words felt like he was signing a contract with the devil.

Reines only smiled, face splitting open with twisted pleasure. One hand patted the top of his head like he was a dog, ruffling his hair affectionately. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

… … …

… … …

Rolling along the ground, Shirou grit his teeth and popped onto his feet. As fast as he could raise his arms, three arrows were fired off in rapid succession, multiplying in mid-air to cover a large area. As the heads of each arrow struck the clumping masses of bugs, they exploded violently and engulfed the area in smoke.

Rapidly, a sword was projected and additional mana was forced into the bow, reinforcing its construction to peak performance. With a slight alteration in his mind, the sword was altered to become more streamlined and balanced, with a notch added in the pommel. The sharpened tip was rounded, edges removed to keep it non-lethal. Notching the sword like he would an arrow, Shirou offered a silent prayer for success and prepared to fire it toward where he knew the A-tier magus would be. As Shirou had expected, a new wave of flying bugs swarmed through the smog, each one staring at him with mindless violence.

This magus was powerful, able to supports hundreds of fist-sized bug familiars. Rather than have their main offence be pincers or teeth - though they definitely had those - they used speed to their advantage, dive bombing a target only to explode and cover the area in acidic fluid.

Releasing his fingers from the bowstring, a loud groan sounded from the bow itself as it strained to fire a projectile more than ten times heavier than what was normally launched. Rocketing forward, the sword left the influence of his bow and punched straight through the swarm of bugs. The recoil from the attack was intense. Almost as soon as Shirou had released the string, a crack formed within the center of the yew. The crack acted as a weak point and as the string snapped into its resting position, the entire thing exploded violently. All at once, magically enhanced shards of drawstring and sharpened splinters coated his front and blew out across the entire arena like a grenade.

Before Shirou could really see if his plan worked, the announcer joyously boomed, "Nick Vile has been eliminated from the Magus Tournament!"

Without a leader to consciously guide them, the bugs slowly vanished into wisps of mana. Releasing a controlled breath, Shirou looked over himself. Parts of his outfit had been burnt away by the acid blood and other parts had been chewed or sliced off. Adding to the carnage, bits of his own projection had embedded themselves in his skin.

While painful, his injuries were superfluous and he had nailed another victory in the Tournament, his first A-tier victory specifically. If the rest of his A-tier battles were against magi as strong as this, he would need to consistently put in his all to come out on top.

Each of these magi were easily as powerful as Rin, though none would be able to compete against Bazett. Holding Bazett at a distance was the only way to survive and how long these magi would last would have depended entirely on making space.

Dematerializing the remains of his shattered bow, the holes left behind began to bleed. The old man medic who usually approached after his fights didn't even come close anymore, merely nodding his head upward toward him in a silent question. As usual, Shirou shook his head and casually walked off toward the arena exit.

The other magi seated in the competitor viewing booth offered an extremely rigid, unenthusiastic congratulations for his victory. It was almost condescending in how little they actually cared. Assuming it was just "the magus way," Shirou carried on through the hall back to his dressing room.

While the competing magi of the Tournament looked at him in disgust, the general populace couldn't help but be enamoured with him. Instructors and students alike crowded his way out of the screening area, shouting his many nicknames in a vain attempt at getting his attention. It wasn't just _Blade_ anymore. His range of nicknames had expanded significantly. _Faker_ , _Photocopier_ , and _The Imitation Man_ were just the nice ones. Dozens of other, less than decent names existed, but he tried not to focus on them as much.

After disrobing and putting on some normal clothes, Shirou projected his outfit and headed off toward the screening arena. Tomorrow would be the last day of the Tournament, where the best of A-tier went into the Tournament finals. As far as he knew, Luvia was still a competitor, which meant there was still a chance that he would end up fighting her.

That thought brought up conflict in his mind. Luvia was a good friend of his and reminded him too much of Rin. One large difference between the two girls was that Luvia's competitive side was at least eight times as worse as Tohsaka. Shirou could guess that beating her in a battle would cost her as a friend, but forfeiting had the possibility to make it worse. If he forfeited and she ended up winning, she might see it as being given a victory, something she would despise. The best outcome would be if he forfeited his fight and she lost to the last magus in the final battle, but relying so much on someone else seemed stupid.

Groaning and placing his forehead in his hand, he continued walking down the long, monotonous hallway toward the screening arena. Pushing open the door, he was assaulted by dozens of screaming voices. Squinting his eyes and grimacing heavily, he looked on to the crowd of people ahead who held a wide variety of emotions. From anger to excitement and everything in between, all because of his victory in another battle. Shirou tugged on his hood to keep his face better concealed.

People were screaming at him, calling him a monster and a villain for killing an innocent girl, others were chanting his many names and praising him for another victory. Some reached out to try and touch him, whether it was just to have contact or because they wanted to try and beat him wasn't something he wanted to find out, so he avoided those people at all costs.

He hated fame, and this was just another reason for him to despise it more.

… … …

… … ….

"You don't have baseball in China?" Svin asked, slapping Shirou on the back while offering a warm smile.

Shirou frowned, pulling back the hooded cape to feel the sun on his face. "I'm from _Japan_ , and of course we have baseball." Rather than get angry, the boy smirked, "That's the one where you hit the tiny white ball with drivers and irons, right?"

Svin looked stunned, drawing a laugh from Shirou as he moved toward the ball diamond. It was early in the morning and classes had been cancelled for reasons undisclosed to any of the students. If he had to guess, it was due to the recent accidental death. Shirou, Lectra, Luvia and even Reines had been looking for something to do when they stumbled across Flat, Svin and a strange-looking woman who seemed to be actively avoiding eye contact. After counting how many they had, Flat immediately suggested they go off to play baseball for the morning, claiming that he had wanted to for months but had been unable to get enough people to form a decent team.

Smiling like an absolute madman, Flat had hardly been able to stand still, excitedly claiming, "There's a team of other magi that go out to this field north of the Clock Tower. It's secluded and well maintained for being public access!"

After such an enthusiastic display, Shirou couldn't say no. It also didn't help that both Lectra _and_ Luvia were as interested as Flat himself. Pressing the large button in the center of his chest, the cape disconnected from his vest and fell to the ground with a _whump_.

"I've deployed a bounded field, it should keep the normal humans from noticing your game and will keep the ball somewhere nearby," Reines commented from beside him, startling the boy significantly. How was such a thing even possible? She had been behind Flat off in the distance a little while ago and they were on _gravel_! How had he been unable to hear her approach?

"Alright, I've had it!" Shirou shouted, looking down at her ankles. As he had mentally pictured, bell-laden anklets appeared attached to Reines' small legs. With each step forward, a jingle followed and it definitely let him know where she was.

Looking down at her feet with something akin to confusion, she merely shrugged and continued on her way. With that handled, Shirou looked around and gathered his bearings on the area. Lectra, Luvia, Flat and Svin were near the bench which was sat behind the backstop, chatting and getting prepared. At the other bench on the other side, seven other magi were doing precisely the same.

Reddish-brown clay with crisp white lines making up the diamond, all surrounded by neatly trimmed green grass. The area itself was shrouded with tall oak trees burdened with leaves, keeping out the noise of the nearby city as well as prying eyes.

Something clicked in Shirou's mind. "Why would we need a bounded field?" Turning to face Reines, he was amazed to find her absent. What was more concerning, was that the jingle-bells were still making noise. Looking down, he found his own projected anklets on himself.

In the midst of his wonderment, he looked up to find Reines straight ahead with the barest hint of a smile on her face. "I have a feeling that this will be more than a simple baseball game."

Something bubbling on the ground beside Reines caught Shirou's attention. He was surprised to see a silvery substance steadily forming on the ground. Shirou realized that the air was being pulled toward its location. A brief but incredibly painful trace of the atmosphere revealed an extraordinary amount of mercury suspended within the air.

Over a few seconds, the full form of Reines' metallic maid formed from absolutely nothing. "Trimmau will be taking my place in the game, I hope that won't be a problem." At the mention of its name, the metallic maid bowed, keeping its hands folded at the hips.

"I will do my master well by eliminating possible threats," it menaced, striding toward the benches with obvious confidence. Shirou gave Reines a look of concern, but a brief nod seemed to be all he would get as reassurance.

"What kind of magecraft are you?" Shirou asked, looking the liquid metal maid over once more.

The being's entire body twitched. "Cyberdyne systems model one-oh-one," it replied in an ominously dull tone.

Reines spared one glance in the constructs direction. "She's an autonomous construct made of mercury, you don't need to know any more."

Raising his eyebrows in a strange motion, he turned and stumbled halfheartedly toward his friends. Each one gave him bright smiles that worked their way onto his own face. They were all here, dressed for the occasion no less. Lectra had thrown on a ballcap, wearing it backwards and allowing a tuft of brownish hair to stick out the front. She even had on an oversized jersey, though which team it was for he couldn't quite tell. Flat and Svin had both put on more outdoor-focused apparel, wearing shorts and thin shirts to try and counter the hot day. Luvia, on the other hand, had merely ripped the sleeves off of her dress, something Shirou didn't know was possible.

The smiles faded as they caught onto the maid approaching behind him. Like Shirou himself, the other members of their group were giving wary glances, uncertain on what they were to take away from it all. Rather awkwardly, the being stood at a distance from the others and observed. Shirou scratched the back of his neck, looking over the others. "Reines doesn't want to play, so _Trimmau_ will be taking her place."

A few seconds of silence ensued before the rest of his group agreed with various levels of enthusiasm. "Is she any good?"

The maid nodded, taking a step closer. "That's one of my mission parameters."

Immediately, Lectra perked up, tilting her head as if questioning what she heard. "Is it quoting…" she mumbled, scrunching up her face accusingly.

Shirou decided to get things on track before the situation got out of hand. "Sounds good enough to me. So are we all ready to play?" Shirou asked with a smile, although it couldn't even be seen with his scarf in the way.

With more enthusiasm than he had expected, everyone shouted "yes" in near unison. "But Blade, how can you play if you don't have a glove?" Lectra asked, pointing toward his empty hand.

Looking down at his left hand, he snorted. "After all this time I would have thought you knew me better." Sparing a quick glance around himself to make sure normal people weren't watching, he projected a baseball glove onto his hand. It was identical to the one Svin had and the boy took notice immediately, looking at his own glove and comparing it visually to the fake with interest.

"What _can't_ you make?" Lectra asked, gripping onto the projected glove and running her fingers over the mana-made leather. Shirou hummed in thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rin's words suddenly came to mind.

" _Never allow any other magus to know how your mystery works. Magi only want to know so that they can abuse the knowledge to defeat you at some point later. You never should have told me how it works, but what's done is done. Just make sure to be careful, alright?"_

Smooth as could be, his mind switched tracks to guide him into avoiding the question. "Never tried everything, can't say what I can or can't make." The items he could project outside of blades was incredibly small. If it wasn't a weapon of some sort, it took nearly an eighth of his mana to project, though that depended on familiarity and other factors of course.

The glint in Luvia's eyes was dangerous. "What about magecraft-spec gemstones? Our family's been buying boatloads from a Japanese supplier but they're so expensive that it would be nice to have them in surplus from somewhere cheaper."

Shirou's brain shut down for a moment, forced to restart. What were the odds that there was more than one gemstone supplier in Japan? That meant the Edelfelt family was buying the gems he was making from Rin. All this time, he thought she was using them for rituals or research when she was making money off of his effort.

When he got home, she would hear about this.

Blinking several times as his mind returned, Shirou shook his head both to clear his brain and disagree. "I have absolutely no idea."

While Luvia pouted, Flat took over the conversation. "Alright, we have a decent team and a good chance to win, and while fun is always nice to have, a win is what we're after!" Bumping his fist victoriously, Flat looked around at the smiling faces around. "Deciding roles will set us up for victory, so who wants to be the pitcher?"

Without hesitating, Luvia lifted her arm and shouted "me!" A confident smirk splayed across her face and she began rolling her shoulder in preparation for her position.

Flinching at the sudden response, the boy shrugged and threw a warm smile. "Cool, Svin will take outfield since he's the fastest out of all of us, which means we need people for bases, shortstop and the catcher."

"I'll handle catching," a soft voice piped up from behind Flat, and everyone's attention was directed to the small woman practically hiding behind him. She had been hiding so well, Shirou hadn't even seen her. She was barely five feet tall, with a thin body to match her petite height. She was dressed as a cliched school girl, only the colour was a very bland gray and black. A thin hooded pullover concealed the majority of her face and the direction of her head left her features up to the imagination.

"Oh right," Flat remarked, stepping aside so that the colour-drained girl could be in view. "Everyone, this is Gray, Gray, this is everyone! I'm pretty sure you know Blade, everyone seems to. But this is Lectra and that's Luvia," the boy introduced, pointing to each of them respectively when their name came up. The girl ducked her head down, lifting her hand in an emotionless wave.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, even he didn't hide that much of himself so what was her problem? "I'll take shortstop," he claimed confidently, flexing the glove in his hand.

"Then Lectra, Trimmau and I will take bases." Flat turned to direct a beaming smile toward Lectra herself. "Looks like you and I will be working together to hold up the team." The girl's eyes widened and blood rushed to her cheeks immediately. She opened her mouth to speak but struggled to make more than a sound. After failing to respond, she merely turned her head to look away.

Svin made a noise by slamming his fist into his palm. "Alright everyone, let's get into position and kick some but!"

Everyone, including Shirou himself, agreed with enthusiasm. He had to admit that Flat and Svin could really inspire people when they put their mind to it. Sparing a glance over at the other team, he received nothing but harsh glares. Shirou had never seen the people of the other team in his entire life, but it was obvious that they knew him. Or, they knew enough to hate him at least.

… … …

A game of roshambo decided who was up to bat first. When Shirou's team won, it was decided that the other team would bat first so that their own team could bat last. With everyone on the field set up in their positions, the game began rather quickly. A tall woman was up to bat, and while she prepared, Luvia pawed the ground to find traction like a professional pitcher. Setting herself up and standing tall, Shirou was amazed to see the extreme competitive flame burning in her eyes. Was this how she fought in the Tournament? It was no wonder she managed to make it into A-tier. Staring down the batter, Luvia paused one last time to verify that everyone on her team was prepared.

Following the brief verification, the girl returned to staring down her opponent. Shirou really should have been watching the batter to see when and where she would strike the ball, but he was personally more interested in Luvia. Was she always this competitive or did this side of her only reveal itself when she was playing sports? Lifting her glove and hiding the ball, Luvia stood upright and twisted her body slightly. After a brief moment, she was moving, leg kicking up as her whole body worked to propel the ball in her hand at an astonishing speed.

Even their own backstop, Gray, was surprised as she barely managed to catch the ball when it flew straight through the batter's box. Even from the strange angle, Shirou could see the animalistic smirk on Luvia's face. Withdrawing a smoking ball from her glove, the girl fanned her hand, likely to relieve some of the pain. "Strike one," she claimed casually, throwing the ball back before getting into position.

"Looks like we've got a good pitcher!" Flat shouted from first base, smiling with some astonishment. A couple of the magi from the other team were on their feet, pressed up against the wiring of the backstop to watch with more interest. As the second pitch was fired and missed by a poorly timed swing, most of the other magi were standing.

The third pitch was hit, but it was hit too low, sending a pop fly directly above Shirou. Casually, he raised his glove and tracked the ball so it could land easily in his palm.

"Batter out, next up to the plate," Gray directed, turning her head to look toward the other team.

As the tall woman moved back to the bench, she passed by an agitated-looking man with ashen white hair. Gripping the bat confidently in both hands, Luvia seemed to pause. From the angle Shirou was at, he could actively see her change the grip on the ball, positioning her fingers in a new way. Another pitch was made, but the ball curved downward sharply as it neared the plate. Unfortunately, the man had already made his swing and missed by a large margin.

That action got an outcry from the bench. From what little of the shouting Shirou could decipher, they thought Luvia was using magecraft to manipulate the ball somehow. Shirou, who had been actively tracing it through the air, could easily tell such a thing was untrue.

"I used to play baseball on the girls' team at Cheltenham, it's not my fault you just can't hit a good pitch." Scoffing righteously only made the other team angrier.

Flat took the time to walk forward, holding up his hands and shouting to get the attention of everyone. "We're all just here to have a fun time, there's no need to get upset."

Shirou merely rolled his eyes. While they had a right to be upset over being sharked this way, they certainly didn't have any right to claim foul play. An idea came to mind suddenly, and Shirou shouted over to Luvia. "To prove to them that you're not using magecraft, why don't you make a pitch using magecraft?"

The girl looked at him with confusion, then down at the ball before smirking wildly. "What a great idea, Blade. I'll show them what I can really do if they think that was hard to hit." Lining herself up on the mound again, she looked toward the batter and the other team with a competitive smirk. "Let me show you the difference with a minor demonstration."

The batter glared at her warily before hesitantly stepping up to the plate and raising his bat. Giving his head a light shake in exasperation, Shirou readied himself while watching Luvia tense up on the mound. In a second, her leg kicked up and the glove in her hand glowed with ominous blue energy.

This was something he absolutely had to witness, so Shirou rapidly activated Time Alter to slow things down so they could be visible. With things slowed down, he could watch Luvia pitch the ball in what appeared to be normal speed. A slowed down explosive noise reached his ears as the ball was thrown and a blue bolt of energy began streaming toward the batter.

With more time available, he could see the fine details. The ball Luvia had thrown was overcharged with mana, reinforced just as much as the user in an attempt at streamlining the overall design. Clocking in at a speed over two hundred miles per hour, there was little chance for the batter to actually make contact. He was still confident enough to attempt a swing and as the ball rapidly closed in, Shirou realized that it was timed perfectly. Even though the ball was ludicrous in speed, the batter would hit it dead on.

As the bat contacted the ball, an unstoppable force met a flimsy object and the bat violently exploded into splinters, hardly affecting the ball at all. Ending Time Alter, Shirou watched Gray take flight with a high jump to avoid the projectile in real time. Launching into the air, she narrowly avoided the blue-bolt as it flew past the batter, through the wire of the backstop and into the dirt behind. As the ball was buried in the earth, a huge spray of turf was thrown into the air.

Gray landed rather elegantly on her feet slightly ahead of the batter, but her hood had fallen from her head because of the act. Standing, she looked around the diamond before realizing what had happened. Time seemed to slow and surprisingly it wasn't because of Time Alter. Shirou's eyes were transfixed on the pale girl, and he couldn't help but gawk at her awkwardly.

She was gorgeous, with a face that was irresistibly unique. Soft, pale skin free of blemishes and blazing emerald eyes beneath glimmering silver hair which sparkled and seemed brighter than the midday sun. A single arching strand of gray hair sprouted from the top of her head, pointing off to the side like a wind sail. Her hair was very elaborate, with small braids surrounding a large bun at the back of her head. Strands of hair at the side of her head framed her face perfectly, contributing to her appeal.

Suddenly, an intense stabbing pressure exploded in his chest, making him suck air through his teeth as the painful sensation radiated throughout his entire body. Looking down at himself, he found absolutely no wound and a trace revealed no damage, so what was causing such unignorable agony?

Closing his eyes, he spotted the source immediately. If an inanimate object could scream, Avalon would be a banshee at that moment. Radiating expansive golden energy, the sheath wanted out of his body like nobody's business. Clenching both hands into fists, Shirou grit his teeth and tried using sheer force of will to push Avalon - and the agony - away. Needless to say, it didn't work and the pain failed to abate in the slightest.

" _What is your problem?"_ he asked mentally, struggling to comprehend what an inanimate object would even want. Opening his eyes, Gray came into sight and an intensified pang of pain struck him. " _That girl? She's why you're acting so strange?"_ As if agreeing with him, the archaic relic toned down the pressure and pulsed once. " _I don't get it, what's so special about her?"_ The pressure faded, but a dull pulsing ache remained in his chest. The ache had a familiarity to it but he couldn't quite describe the sensation. He had felt it before, though not to this degree for sure. He had experienced it back in Fuyuki when he was leaving at the airport.

As suddenly as it appeared, Gray's face was hidden by the dark cloak hanging off her shoulders and with it, the pressure from Avalon. A dull throbbing sat in the center of his chest, and every time Gray entered his line of vision, it intensified. Shirou nearly asked her to reveal her face once more, both so he could gaze upon it and so he could determine what it was that Avalon desired. Blinking and shaking his head to clear his mind, he realized how out of place such a question was. With rationality returned to him, the brewing war between the two teams finally became apparent.

He had the feeling that this friendly little game of baseball wasn't going to be very friendly for much longer.

… … …

… … …

Every touch elicited a noise of pain from Lectra. Even when he tried to smooth the bandage out softly, she practically writhed in pain. "If you don't stop wiggling it's only going to hurt more," Shirou pointed out, pulling another bandage from the box. While he hardly used bandages like this, it was good to be prepared. Lectra had used all of his remaining stock but two although thankfully, the last two would be just enough.

Lectra moaned, pouted, and lowered her head in defeat. After watching Luvia flex her magical muscles, the other team opted for a "no holds barred" game with full use of magecraft. Everything exploded from then on and the ball diamond became more like a war zone. Every pitch, hit and throw had the speed of a bullet and Shirou had to put all of his effort into playing effectively.

Lectra had been on the unfortunate receiving end of a nasty ploy. One of the magi from the other team had trapped the bat and Shirou hadn't caught the manipulation until it was too late. When Lectra took a swing at a ball, despite the bat being heavily reinforced it exploded violently and showered her with sharpened splinters.

From that point on, Shirou projected every bat their team used, which actually proved to be beneficial since it could handle the magically enhanced pitches better.

"What a bunch of jerks. Using magic to enhance ability is one thing, but outright trapping the field is uncalled for." The girl winced as Shirou plucked out a small splinter with a pair of projected tweezers.

"I was surprised that Flat didn't help out more," Shirou mumbled, placing a small bandage over a wound on her shoulder. "He can stop projectiles and people with two words, he should have been able to catch anything." Shirou squinted, trying to get a better angle on another splinter. "Maybe he didn't want to make the game totally unfair." After all, they had won the game by fifteen points. Because Trimmau could manipulate its body, the metal maid proved to be an excellent catcher.

Shirou wouldn't say it outright, buy Lectra had actually been the least competitive member of their team. She was average in terms of fitness and her magecraft couldn't be used to sway the game in either direction. So long as Lectra enjoyed herself, her performance didn't matter.

"Hey, uh, speaking about Flat…" the girl mumbled, turning her head to look at him sheepishly. "Do you know him very well? Does he ever talk about me?"

Shirou furrowed his brow, setting a quizzical look on his face. "What do you mean? The only time I've seen him, you've been around as well."

Lectra turned, facing away from him as she fumbled with her words. "I know that, I was just wondering if he ever spoke to you in private or behind my back or something." Even though he was at an odd angle, Shirou could see the heat radiating from her cheeks. Immediately he chimed into what was going on and he couldn't stop a chuckle from coming out of his mouth. Obviously, it was the wrong thing to do, because her head whipped around to look at him as if he had stabbed her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, I just thought it was cute. You two have the same kind of enthusiasm so you would make a good pair." Even though she couldn't see it, he smiled genuinely.

The shade of red that spread across her face almost made him think she was bleeding. "W-what are you saying? It's not like that at all, I mean, Flat is nice but yo-" her eyes widened and her voice turned into a squeak.

Before Shirou could react, she had already stood and was halfway to the door. "Where are you going, I'm not done yet!" He called out to her, but she didn't even hesitate for a moment in her flight from the room. He closed his eyes as the door was slammed shut as if it would lower the volume, releasing a sigh after a few moments of silence.

What did he say? Was it something wrong? Questioning himself and replaying the event over in his mind gave him nothing but a sense of annoyance. Scratching the top of his head to relieve an itch, he moved toward his bed and collapsed on top. Like all of the other magi after that game, he was dead tired. He had been putting on a brave face to appear normal but he could have really gone for a nap.

A couple of the catches he made had torn ligaments in his shoulder and Avalon was still working away at repairing them. He mainly didn't want anyone to worry, and he felt that bothering Flat over something so minor was plain rude.

Deciding that it was likely a good idea to see how severe the damage was, he summoned the strength to stand. Shirou sauntered through his room into the bathroom where he dematerialized his normal outfit to reveal his casual clothes. With strained effort, he pulled off his shirt and looked over his body.

Wincing as he saw the damage in its full glory, he carefully ran a finger along the purplish-black skin. A massive bruise was spread across his entire shoulder, ranging further to take up portions of his chest and back as well. Touch caused pain, obviously, but even rotating the limb was aggravating. Gripping the edges of the vanity, he stared into his own eyes in the mirror and focused on breathing. If he was done for the day, it would be a good idea to get the last of his training done.

" **I am the bone of my sword** ," he murmured, shutting one eye as the intense searing pain of a freshly forged circuit hit him. Gritting his teeth, he bore with the agony until the circuit expended the mana it had and the initial stage of his reality marble faded away.

Letting out spotty, steaming breaths, Shirou turned on the cold water and splashed some onto his face to cool his skin down. Considering everything, it was astonishing how he wasn't inside a jar on a magus' shelf. Not only were his origin and element the same but he had three forbidden miracles underneath his belt - Tracing, Time Alter and his reality marble. Each one could easily get him designated. Thankfully, they could all be hidden in one way or another. Time Alter was too brief to be investigated closely, Tracing was impossible to accuse someone of and his reality marble had to be consciously activated.

After a few minutes, the pain had subsided and he looked the rest of his body over in the mirror. For what he could see, the rest of him was in decent shape. Deciding to check all that he could, he turned on his circuits with his favoured mental imagery, just to double-check.

As expected, blue ribbons lit up across his back, glowing ethereally in the dim bathroom. Turning to get a better look, he realized that the design had changed yet again, although only slightly. The curved segments near his shoulder blades had expanded, rising high before curling sharply downward as it neared the edge of his back. What was strange was the abnormal patchy appearance. It was as if only portions of the crest had formed and it wasn't quite done filling in. Contorting himself to touch the skin, he found the entire area hot, almost as if it were-

A knock echoed through his room from the front door. With his sharp hearing, he could hear the voice of Luvia mumble beneath her breath, "you better be in here, otherwise, I don't know where else to look."

Looking around for his discarded shirt, he prepared his outfit within his mind, holding back on projecting it for the time being until he got dressed. "Who is it?" he called out, disregarding the fact that he knew already.

Throwing his shirt over his head, an annoyed tone called back to him. "It's Luvia," she paused, then resumed in a much softer tone. "I wanted to see if you were hungry."

With his shirt on, Shirou projected his outfit and casually moved to the door. Gently opening it revealed the blonde and a dense wave of perfume. It was a mouth-wateringly sweet scent that reminded him of candy and gingerbread houses. It was unusual from Luvia, but she likely had her reasons.

Twitching as the scent hit his nose at full force, he tried to appear unphased. "A little, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast." Now that he was breathing in the smell of candy, he felt significantly hungrier.

A strange glimmer appeared in her eyes. "That's great- I mean, it's not great that you went hungry but it's good for right now."

Shirou couldn't help but snort, and the snort turned into a full-blown laugh as he thought over how awkward she was. Watching her change from hopeful to disgruntled in an instant only made him laugh harder. Through his amusement, he managed to get out a response. "Let's go get some dinner, did you have anywhere in mind?"

… … …

… … …

Shirou's eyes snapped open in the night, but for once he felt no fear or anguish. Groaning, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the sand from their corners, he turned his head upon the pillow to look over his room. He half expected an old man to be sitting on his desk, _again_.

He'd had a dream, a normal dream that didn't leave him with a sense of confusion and vague, fading recollections. It had been something normal, something known. A dream where he was walking through the Great Fire of Fuyuki. Shirou was mostly happy that he could _remember_ a dream for once.

Stretching in bed, he eventually sat up and looked over at the clock. Quarter to six, just before his alarm went off. Rubbing his eyes once more, the boy stood and prepared himself for the day. Today was the last day of the Tournament, the semi-finals and final rounds were all taking place this evening. After coming home from dinner, Octavia had kindly let him know that he would need to fight three battles to claim victory of this year's tournament. She also expressed the same sentiment to Luvia, although the tone used was different somehow. He took that as a blatant sign that Luvia was still a competitor, so his chances of fighting her in one of these battles happened to be regretfully high.

He was hoping and praying that she lost. While mean to want her to lose, he would have to fight her himself if she won and that was objectively worse. Luvia was his friend and she had fought harder than he had without a doubt.

Being able to make a weapon for every occasion made all of his battles beneath A-tier nothing more than formality. Most of his collection had never been seen, as he always utilized non-lethal weaponry to disable his opponents. After moving into A-tier, Shirou quickly realized that non-lethal weapons simply weren't cutting it anymore. Even going against a low-ranking A-tier magus like Nick Vile had strained his options. If the magus had moved around rather than standing in the same exact place, Shirou would have had to utilize less than safe tactics.

Standing in front of the door, he rubbed at his eyes and tried to push thoughts of the Tournament away. He had more important things to focus on and worry about than petty games between magi. More important things like the fact that his classes were cancelled. This gave him a chance to do something he had been intending to for some time: Visit museum's to expand his collection.

… … …

The British Museum's collection revolved around daggers and shortswords, which were nice to have as projectiles, but lacking in actual combat potential. During his visit, Shirou had been able to eavesdrop on other tourists who spoke of the "Tower of London" which was supposed to have a great quantity of weaponry - something which wasn't a lie in the slightest. Instead of a few scant swords or weapons to use, Shirou now had access to dozens of different weaponry to fuel his projections now and most of them were extremely well made, with respectable durability. The Tower of London featured everything a magic blacksmith like Shirou could ask for. Maces, mauls, halberds, axes and every other weapon designed to kill. Alongside these offensive tools were items to defend and protect like shields and armour as well.

Once he was finished perusing the museums, he returned to the Imperial College so he could have lunch with Luvia, Lectra, Flat and Svin. The group had an amicable chat for a while until both Flat and Svin had to leave to attend a class of their own. Sometime after, a hand slammed down on the table, creating a loud noise which raised everyone's attention and simultaneously silenced the entire room.

"I'm sick and tired of hearing endless rumours about you and your piddly little fights in the Tournament. I'm here to see how true they really are and put an end to all the _unbeatable_ rumours." Standing tall, the girl peered over the table, practically snarling as her eyes reached Luvia. Shirou could recognize that burgundy suit and matching hair anywhere, but why was she approaching him here? Furthermore, what was with the strange look at Luvia?

Blinking a few times to verify that this was indeed reality, he leaned back in his chair and looked her up and down with as much stoicism as possible. "Do I know you?"

The Irish woman's head snapped down to look at him with fury. "We've met once before, twerp. Bazett McRemitz, Clock Tower enforcer."

Shirou paused for a minute, and he could hear the audible creak of chairs as everyone nearby turned to look in his direction. Casually, he shrugged. "Doesn't ring any bells, sorry." He briefly looked around, confused as to what was going on. "And I'm sorry but I can't really help with the rumours. People do and say what they want."

"The problem is you're the one who's inspiring all the talk. So I've devised a little plan of my own to silence it all. A little friendly competition between combat-ready magi, you and me, right here and now," the woman decided, glaring daggers as she awaited his answer.

"What's with everyone wanting to fight? Tournaments, duels, betting," Shirou shrugged and lifted both arms in defeat. "There's more to life than beating the crap out of each other." Regretfully, he found himself standing while Bazett strode to a more open area of the room. "I can't talk you out of this?"

The Irish woman frowned, glaring daggers at him while she cracked her knuckles. "The world is kill or be killed, kid. Magi like you might end up being next in line when people like me are dead and gone. It's good to make sure you can actually do the job and protect people, not just know how." Slowly, the girl raised her fists and slid her feet back to keep positioning.

Looking to the side, he saw nothing but eyes watching them both, whispering and pointing. This attention was anything but good and word about a duel between him - a nicknamed nobody - and a genuine enforcer would start a wildfire, regardless of the outcome.

Bazett had stupid ideas, but this really took the cake. Looking back at the two girls at his table, he found encouraging smiles that basically instructed him to fight.

Facing the Irish woman directly, he tried twitching his eyes to signal "no" but she only smiled. Deciding on another tactic, he grit his teeth and forced himself to remain as composed as possible. "This is a public place, I don't think we can have magic flying around with so many people, we'll both get in trouble."

"So long as both parties agree to duel, no third party is injured and the area remains intact, no punishment will be delivered. We'll keep things simple and exclude all magecraft besides reinforcement. A hand-to-hand spar that'll work up an appetite."

Clenching both hands at his side, he stared into her burgundy eyes for a while. Shaking his head slowly, he scrunched up his face and took a step back. "No, I'm not fighting. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"Then I'll make it interesting and put five thousand pounds on whoever wins," Bazett claimed. Shirou deadpanned, realizing that she was betting the money his father paid her on him. In a backwards way, she would be handing his own money back were he to lose. Knowing Bazett and money, she probably would have wanted him to give it back as well.

"A wager? I'd be willing to chip in," came a cheer from Luvia. Snapping his head around, he shot a look that could kill but she barely even twitched.

A soft gasp from the crowd was all the warning he got before a regretfully familiar voice reached his ears. "As would I," Reines declared from his side. Turning and looking down at the small woman, she returned his gaze with a soft smile. "Though I'll have to double up if it isn't too much trouble. Twenty thousand pounds, quite a bounty and certain to be enough incentive." Turning on her heel, the platinum blonde strode off to leave just as quickly as she arrived, throwing one hand over her shoulder. "Unfortunately I have business to attend to, let me know where to send the money."

"You've got a whole gaggle of girls rooting for you, kid. You aren't going to let them down, are you?" Bazett smirked, appearing coy and confident to everyone else, but Shirou knew different. She was enjoying how much she was able to tease him and she was pressing every advantage she had.

"Fine, this will either be over in a minute or drag on long enough to make history in the Clock Tower." Lifting his hands to prepare himself, the crowd rapidly assembled and the whispers grew into a monotonous buzz.

Reinforcing his body brought out minute sounds and made him increasingly more aware of his surroundings. Putting some effort into listening, he could actively pick out bits and parts of conversations going on around him.

"He's good in the Tournament but could he really take on an enforcer?"

"No way, he'll hit the ground before he can take one step. That's Bazett McRemitz, the best hand-to-hand fighter in the Tower. Blade shoots weapons from the air, he's out of his element." Tuning out the voices, he focused on the woman ahead.

Taking a step forward and closing the distance, he could pick up the sharp inhale from the Irish woman just before she moved to meet him. The first punch went as expected, but the force sent a blasting echo throughout the room that made him wince. They really weren't going to get in trouble for this? That slight hesitation was more than enough for her to take advantage of. Twisting out of the way and trying to defend himself proved useless, as a hooking punch slammed into his hip and sent him sprawling across the ground.

Sliding across the floor, a wave of "oohs" and sympathetic noises of pain carried through the audience. While it had been painful, it certainly hadn't been enough to put him out of the fight and as he stood the audience collectively gasped in surprise. "You manage to stand after a punch like that? I'm amazed, your hip should be shattered."

At the very least, she was partially correct. His hip contained numerous hairline fractures and another blow would pulverize the bone to dust. It was painful, but he could still fight with it. Lifting his fists, he took a deep breath and advanced into striking range. Almost on cue, strikes and grapple attempts were thrown at a speed he could hardly keep up with.

The pace of the battle was intense, but with his training a few days ago still fresh in his mind, he was used to Bazett putting in her all. Blocking and countering the flurry of strikes could only get him so far, he needed an edge otherwise they would continue battling a stalemate.

 **Time Alter-**

He began, but a wave of nausea hit like a truck. The edges of his vision quivered and he barely managed to catch a punch aimed for his solar plexus. He felt like fainting and vomiting simultaneously but neither seemed to actually come. What really took him over, was a rapid sense of fatigue and the sensation of his stamina being drained away.

Keeping a tight grasp on the woman's fist, everything around them suddenly slowed to a near stop, except the two of them. Bazett seemed to notice something was off immediately and she paused to look at the almost stationary crowd. "What the hell just happened?" The woman tugged back her hand but Shirou maintained a tight grip. The full-body weakness coupled with the sudden motion sent him teetering forward onto his knees. "Let go of me, kid."

Panting heavily, Shirou looked up to her with the first hints of uncertainty. "I don't know what will happen if I do."

Narrowing her eyes, she looked him over accusingly. At the very least, she had stopped trying to break free. "What does that mean? If you know what's going on you'd better let me know."

Lowering his head, he took a few deep breaths to gather his strength before standing. Now on his feet, he could look into her eyes with seriousness. "Remember when I first used Time Alter and I was stuck out in the yard for hours?"

The realization bloomed in her eyes immediately. "So you and I are stuck here like this?" He nodded weakly and a scowl spread across her features. "And if you let go of me, I might be stuck here permanently. Good call to hold on, kid."

Breathily offering his thanks for the compliment, he shut his eyes tight to try and rid himself of the nausea. "I used Time Alter yesterday and it looks like Gaia got upset when I tried to use it again so soon." Swallowing as the sensations affecting him gradually abated, he looked at the people barely moving some distance away. "Looks like time in here is moving faster than out there. All they'll see is a bunch of blurs."

"So they can't see or hear us right now?" Bazett murmured. She suddenly turned to him and her lips turned to a menacing smile. "I had initially planned to let you win but with twenty grand on the line I'm going to have to take this one."

Huffing out a weak laugh, he shook his head. "In your dreams. While you've been gone, I've learned a few new tricks."

Raising one eyebrow, the woman looked rather annoyed. "With a few tricks, you think you're as tough as an enforcer now? Seems like the magi at the Tower have started to rub off on you."

"Guess we'll just have to see," he remarked ominously. After watching Luvia fight in the Tournament, Shirou had picked up a few techniques that could easily take Bazett by surprise.

After a moment of awkward silence, Bazett drummed up conversation. "So this is what you and your father see while using that spell?"

"I think so. There's another technique but I've never actually used it." The stagnate form of Time Alter was interesting to say the least and it could be used effectively in the right situation. Hiding from detection or playing dead as Kiritsugu had done when Bazett first arrived both leapt to mind.

But what else could it really do? Shirou hadn't thought of much but there were a few hypothetical uses he would need to try. "I was serious about those rumours pissing me off by the way. Didn't your father tell you not to make a name for yourself?"

Shirou pursed his lips behind his scarf, knowing full well that the old man had said exactly that. "Lord El-Melloi the Second told me to sign up because it would keep the other magi off my back. He was right, but I don't think he was expecting me to gather a following." He paused, blinked, then furrowed his brow. "And what do you think this is? Challenging me to a duel in the middle of the cafeteria?"

She snorted into a smirk. "I was just teasing. Even though you've attracted the attention of Reines, the Vice Director doesn't seem too interested. Whatever you've told her has put you on the bottom of her priorities which is a damn good thing in my mind."

"That doesn't answer my question. Why start a fight here and now?"

She shrugged, an awkward act considering one of her fists was being gripped tightly by Shirou. "Solidify your position with the other magi. If you can best an enforcer, you're well above any A-tier magi and that will demoralize the remaining competitors. But now it's for money and that money is _mine_."

Narrowing his eyes, he stood a little taller and couldn't help but smirk. Was this what his father felt when the two had their battles? He had to admit, a friendly competition seemed pretty entertaining. "Do your worst, McRemitz."

… … …

"What did you expect would happen after fighting a real enforcer?" Lectra sighed, huffing as she tied the sling around his arm. Bazett had broken it entirely with her elbow after catching his punch.

"I still won, didn't I?" he asked, keeping one eye shut so the blood dripping down the side of his face wouldn't cause irritation. It had been a long battle that far more intense than any training session. Each blow threatened to cause grievous injury and it was only through luck that he managed to win. In the last decisive move, Bazett had taken a step too far to the side and her foot caught the leg of a chair. In that stumbling motion, he had been able to overpower her. Had the area been clear, it was hard to say who might have won.

"It was incredible to watch and I can't believe you won, but you still have a tournament to fight in. How do you expect to win with all those wounds?" she asked, jabbing two fingers into his side playfully.

Hissing at the jolting pain, he gave her a harsh look. "Flat should be able to help but we'll need to find him first."

Lectra's eyes suddenly sparkled. "That's easy, it's one in the afternoon so he'll be in the common room on the east end."

The glare turned into a look of concern. "You've only known him for a couple days, how do you already know his routine?"

The girl blushed, turning to look away in the direction he assumed they would be going. "Well you know, I just pick up on things like that."

He hummed accusingly but eventually decided she was right. "You did seem to hook onto my schedule pretty quickly." Nodding as the girl made a squeaking noise, he stepped past her. "Alright, well let's go find him."

… … …

… … …

"Begin!" came the cry of the announcer and Shirou snapped forward like a bullet. The other magus, Kain, hardly had a moment to spare, quickly flourishing his hands and speaking a foreign language to produce a torrent of ice shards from both palms.

Throwing himself to the floor to avoid the icy spray, Shirou slid across the dirt beneath the attack, sliding right up to his opponent's feet. Unable to shift the attack so close due to splash back, the magus tried to leap backward but Shirou was much faster. Placing Kain's legs between his own, Shirou twisted on the floor and tripped the man onto his back.

From here, victory was easy. Scrambling to deliver a knockout blow and end the fight as quickly as possible, Shirou suddenly felt his muscles become unresponsive and tried to stand, but he ground to a halt before even getting out of a crouch. It wasn't as if he had held himself back or portions of his body had stopped working, it was almost like he had been frozen in time.

The other magus was panicked, frightened by how quickly he had almost lost, but now he appeared more confident and a smirk befell his gleaming eyes. Only able to move his eyes, Shirou tried to find the cause for his situation, spotting a pair of glasses lying on the dirt some distance away. They had likely fallen off when he hit his back. The barest trace revealed their magical construction and there was an immediate correlation between these glasses to the mystic eye killers the werewolf freelancers had worn.

While he hadn't thought of tracing the glasses, Shirou had definitely traced the man, so how had he missed his Mystic Eyes? Running another trace just to make sure, he repeated the process of comparing them to Illya's eyes and found the reason immediately. While both had Mystic Eyes of Binding, they were fundamentally different. Unlike this man, Illya could alter the strength of her binding effect by passing more mana through the circuitry. Because he didn't know what to look for, he had glazed over Kain's eyes entirely.

Unlike most magi, who would have confidently boasted their assured victory, the mage didn't hesitate in moving to end the battle. Large icicles were formed and fired into both of Shirou's shoulders, piercing the skin and immobilizing each of his arms. Hardly expecting the attack, but unable to scream, darkness clouded Shirou's eyes and all concentration was shattered.

The searing cold amplified the pain significantly until it was all he could think about. Only able to move his eyes, Shirou watched the magus approach, forming a hefty club of ice into both hands. Lifting the weapon high above his head, Shirou could see his defeat on the way. Without many options, he decided on something crazy that happened to be ridiculous enough to work.

Mana funnelled to create the blueprint and as the club was beginning its downward swing, the creation formed around him. Shirou had thought he had been too late, but when an explosive clang echoed through the arena, he knew otherwise.

Covering most of his half-crawling body was a steel kiteshield emblazoned with an ancient family crest. To absorb the impact, swords had been welded to three points, positioned so they could stab the ground and act as an impact-bearing tripod.

Still unable to move but with a moment to think, Shirou traced the ground of the arena, locating the magus through the pressure acting on the dirt since he was unable to see Kain directly. Instead of trying to move or defend himself, Shirou projected maces and small warhammers, rapidly firing them toward the magus' general location. The other magi had been expecting such a move evidently, as most of his weapons were deflected with icicles or frozen into dense cubes in the air.

On the second dozenth wave of projectiles, a meaty thwack preceded a visceral crack. Whatever had been struck had broken as well and if the scream was anything to go off of, it had been a painful experience. Tracing the ground to verify Kain's position, he located the magus' position once more. By the weight distribution, he was lying on the ground, an easy, immobile target.

The next wave of blunt instruments appeared over Shirou's motionless shoulders and all at once, they aimed toward the prone target. Before any could be fired, a cry stopped him short and an eerie silence descended across the arena. "For the love of God stop, please!" a man's voice cried. As unexpectedly as the cry to stop, motion returned to Shirou and a sense of confusion soon followed. Standing with obvious pain from the icicles embedded in each shoulder, he spotted the downed form of his opponent.

His eyes were shut and tears were streaming out of their corners. Looking further down, Shirou spotted the man's thigh, crushed by a high-velocity mace. His femur had been shattered by the impact and the pain was likely to be excruciating. "Don't kill me like that girl, I don't want to die!" the man cried, gripping his demolished leg in agony. "I saw what you did to her and that enforcer, just don't hurt me anymore please!" He continued pleading, bawling freely on the ground.

Furrowing his brow, he tried to move his arms and was rapidly reminded of their immobile state and the pain they caused. In the softest tone he could manage with the icy agony coursing through his body, he tried to placate the man. "I'm not going to kill you, I nev-"

"Please," the man shouted, cutting him off. "I forfeit the Magus Tournament, I don't want to fight anymore just let me go you murderer!" Shaking his head violently with closed eyes, the injured man tried to make as much distance as possible by crawling away. There was a few seconds' pause before the announcer boomed overhead and the door at the far end of the arena opened wide.

Shirou couldn't be bothered with either, however, and he continued looking at the downed man in bewilderment. He was genuinely _scared_ for his life as if he was expecting it to end. Looking down at his own hands, Shirou tried to find the malice in them. Had he become that threatening on reputation alone?

People avoided him, but was it because they were scared of him? Did people think he would kill anyone who got in his way? Was this what Bazett and Waver had wanted to happen? Clenching his fists brought near-blinding pain as his but the sensation seemed to alleviate the stress brought on by the thought in his mind.

Just when the questioning voice in his head became unbearable, a snapping noise caught his attention and brought his head up. It was the kind old man once again, looking at him with more concern than he had ever had before. "You need help pulling those out or do you want them left there?" he asked, gesturing to the icicles still embedded in his shoulders.

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but his throat closed tight and he needed to clear his throat before he could. "If you wouldn't mind," he ended up mumbling. The old man reached up to gently grip the shards of ice.

"This might hurt but I'll try to take it out as gent-" the man interrupted himself by violently yanking upward to remove both simultaneously. The unexpected shock forced an outcry from his lips, made his vision blur and sent weakness to his knees. Shirou didn't fully collapse but only because the old man graciously hooked his shoulders to keep him upright. "It's not as painful if you don't expect it, sorry. You know, since you won't let me heal you, this is the first time I've been able to actually help you with something," he chuckled, straining to keep the two of them standing. "Feels nice to help someone, hell, that's why I got into this in the first place."

As the pain subsided and limited use of his arms returned, Shirou managed to stand on his own, clumsily thanking the old man for the assistance. Placing one hand on his shoulder, the attendant smiled. "I wouldn't worry about that other kid too much. He's never been injured so I think the shock and pain might have gotten to him." Patting his shoulder reassuringly, Shirou couldn't find any relief in his words. If anything, they were more troubling. "No matter what everyone says about you, I know you're not a monster."

… … …

Waver let out an exasperated sigh. "So it's decided then. Win or lose his next battles, I'm forced to accept Haruto Takahashi as one of my pupils." Taking a long drag on the last remnants of a cigar, his attention was stripped away by an out of character giggle from Reines.

Both eyes were practically glued on the masked man and an evil look was strewn across her face. "An interesting event for the Faker, I see my efforts have already had the intended effect."

Narrowing his eyes, Waver set down his cigar. "Did you have a hand in the outcome of this battle, Lady Archisortie?"

The girl only giggled more, abruptly standing from her chair to move closer to the glass. "I wouldn't look too far into the matter, dear brother."

"Even immobilized, this man is able to demonstrate overwhelming power. Without sight, he tracked the other magus and launched projectiles with surprising accuracy." The soft voice of Gray came from his other side.

Turning his head he spotted the other girl practically mirroring Reines, pressed up against the glass wall. "It sounds like you've taken an interest in him, remember my warning regarding Add."

All he received as response was a hum of agreement, a notion which frustrated him to no end. Narrowing his eyes and grumbling a moment, he crushed out his cigar. Shirou only needed to fight in two more battles, then he would become this year's champion, what would happen to him then?

"Lord El-Melloi?" came a question from Gray, popping the thought in his mind. Looking into her emerald eyes, he offered a quizzical look, an indication for her to continue. "Where is Flat? I haven't seen him in a while."

With a breathy nasal laugh, the Lord merely raised a finger, pointing down to the arena where a golden-haired boy was running out onto the field. He wore a bright white shirt that was at least two sizes too big for him, with a large red medical cross emblazoned on the back.

"He's acting as Blade's medical assistance for the Tournament. As the Clock Tower wouldn't want him to die to any injuries, and because Flat's technique of healing offers no advantage, it was allowed," the Lord explained.

"You're allowing contact between the two? Aren't you afraid of how Blade might influence him?" the girl asked, concern evident in her voice.

Confusion edged its way into his features. "What sort of influence? Blade is a skilled individual with sound morals and ethics. You can see clearly through the way he handles his opponents in the Tournament that he means no undue harm to any of the competitors. His use of lethal weaponry has been minimal even though he has access to such things."

Gray stared at him silently for a moment. "Then why would it cause the end of the world if he were to see Add? How could he end the world if he isn't an evil being?"

The Lord clenched his jaw, trying to think of a decent explanation. The possibility that Shirou could create a copy of Add was very high. With that possibility, came the additional possibility of him making use of the device. If Shirou happened to deem the situation dire enough to use Add at its full power…

Eventually, he decided on an excuse. It was flimsy and revealed he was avoiding the question to those perceptive enough, but it would work for now. "I would prefer your secrets go unreplicated. I have one of you and that is more than enough."

… … …

… … …

When Shirou's name was called again, a pit spawned in the very deepest point of his stomach. Luviagelita Edelfelt and Haruto Takahashi would fight for second place. It was Shirou's worst nightmare, having to decide over his own gain and someone else's. In his mind, he had decided, but was it really the correct choice?

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked, a sense of guilt stirred within. The competitor area was packed with eager magi but as soon as they spotted him, a deathly silence descended over each one.

Scowling with more sadness than anger, he stormed into the arena and was surprised to see Luvia already there, waiting for him. As they made eye contact, she spoke with a confidence he had never heard from her before.

"Fate has set you up against me, Blade." She pointed at him, then drew her hand back to rest on her chest dramatically. "When we first met, you said I would be able to see under your scarf if I won the Tournament and now you're one of the last two things standing between me and that goal!" she shouted as if such a goal was anything to be proud of.

The clapping they had entered into immediately died off at her comment, and a rush of second-hand embarrassment mixed with the complex emotions he was already experiencing. "Luvia, normal people don't say that kind of thing out loud in front of hundreds of people."

The sound of amusement echoed all around him, further fueling his embarrassment. Now, hundreds of people were laughing at them and Luvia hardly seemed phased, standing tall with supreme confidence. "It doesn't matter what you or the other magi think. This was my objective and I'll achieve it no matter what!"

Sighing, Shirou threw his head down. "I'm not going to fight you, I can't."

The girl furrowed her brow then scoffed. "Is it because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because-"

The announcer boomed overtop of him. "I am in no way sorry for interrupting you, let the fight begin!" Without hesitating at the call to action, Luvia shot forward toward him like an arrow.

Eyes snapping open and hands raising to defend himself, he called out for her to wait but the words fell on deaf ears. The first punch thrown by Luvia was explosive, literally. He tried to grasp her incoming fist but as soon as she contacted him, a blast of mana fired his arm backward. With most of his chest open, the girl spread open her fist, pointing her fingers forward while speaking something in German.

Before he could even react, black and crimson orbs formed at the tip of each finger, firing once they rapidly grew to the size of baseballs. Attempting to twist out of the way, he managed to avoid two of the four projectiles, taking the other two in the chest and shoulder. Each one was like a hammer, forcing the wind from his chest and blowing him backward a short distance. Those were shots of gandr, something he was familiar with, but how was she able to fire multiple shots at once?

Sliding across the ground, he began wheezing and gasping for air, thankfully remaining on his feet. "Luvia-wait!" he managed to croak out, realizing that she had no intentions of stopping until the battle was over. Trying to wheeze in enough oxygen, he squeezed out a very raspy "trace on" and projected tower shields to float slightly in the air. With a heavy clang, they landed on the ground, acting as a wall between the two.

Heaving a breath, he managed to recover somewhat. But that respite didn't last long. Like a cannon had hit the other side, the tower shield wall exploded outward violently, flinging pieces of mana-based metal throughout the arena. Like an unstoppable force, she carried onward without a scratch and seamlessly flew forward with a fist reared back.

Gritting his teeth and using what little oxygen he had, he quickly projected the extending bo staff and used it to launch himself vertically. In the air, he gave a plea downward. "Can you hold on for just a second?" The blonde responding by opening her first and pointing her fingers in his direction. Realizing the intention, Shirou quickly flipped the staff in his hands and extended it toward the domed ceiling. The extension fired him sideways and gravity brought him back to earth some distance away. Stray shots of gundr exploded harmlessly against the roof, clumsily trying to trace his path.

Landing on his feet with some difficulty due to the speed, he rapidly projected swords and created a circular prison around the blonde. "Luvia, listen to me, I never wanted to fight you in the Tournament, this was never my plan."

The Edelfelt girl was stuck in her sword-made cage, looking around before gripping the blades themselves and pulling with her bare hands. "Whether it was your plan or not, this is what's happening and I'm not going to lie down and lose this bet!" She slammed one fist into the flat of a blade making up the prison. Like the tower shields, his creations exploded outward as if they were made of paper.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" he barked back, but before he could continue, she was in his face throwing fists. Thankfully, she was slower and not as efficient as Bazett. On top of that, Luvia was expectedly falling into his suicidal technique, so the battle wasn't quite as harrowing. He was able to "predict" her moves by making her next strike obvious.

Luvia wasn't quite a professional when it came to hand-to-hand. Her prowess was more in grappling than actual fist fighting. So long as she didn't get the advantage and take hold of him, he was relatively safe. He had to admire her resolve, as the torrent of attacks and attempted gandr strikes held strong for a minute.

Tiring herself out, Shirou caught a slight decrease of speed in her motion and quickly capitalized. As her arm shot forward to deliver another strike, he twisted and gripped onto her wrist, yanking the smaller woman forward while hooking his other arm beneath her shoulder. The speed of his movements allowed him to slip further behind her and immobilized her other arm in the same manner. With strength and height, he was able to lift the girl partly off the ground by her shoulders alone.

"If you don't want to listen, I'll just have to force you to." Luvia was struggling and trying to get free like a fish out of water, squirming and nearly causing him to lose his grip. "I'm not fighting you. If this is what it takes for second place then I don't want it."

"What are you saying?" the girl growled, futilely trying to kick at his reinforced legs. "Just finish this, end the fight and move on!"

Throwing his brow, a rush of anger flooded through him. "Fine then, you want me to end the fight, that's exactly what I'll do." Looking up toward the domed glass ceiling, he narrowed his eyes as if he could see behind it. "I, Haruto Takahashi-"

"Stop it, what are you doing you idiot!" Luvia cried, still trying to wriggle free. "You'll be throwing all your effort away!"

Growling himself, he lifted the girl higher until her feet were floating off the ground. "I've never cared about this stupid tournament, can't you see that? I only signed up for a joke and it's given me nothing but trouble! You're the one who's been fighting for years looking to win and I'm not going to take that away from you." The girl continued squirming, even as he looked back up to the ceiling and finished what he planned to announce:

"I forfeit the Tournament."

… … …

Storming out of his dressing room, he quickly threw the hood over his head and tugged the edges tight around his face. Continuing his tirade down the hall toward the screening area, he suddenly bumped into and nearly toppled a man wearing dark robes.

Looking up, he spotted an entirely stoic face leering at him with absolute neutrality. Behind the already familiar man were two other faces he recognized.

"Lord El-Melloi the Second?" he found himself asking.

"You must enjoy using my entire title to address me," he commented, brushing the front of his coat off.

Shirou looked between Reines, Waver and the strange woman Gray. Immediately upon noticing her, Avalon forced a pressure into his chest, an urging suggestion. "It's a matter of respect, your lordship."

The lord in question narrowed his eyes, allowing a hum to spawn in his throat. "Regardless, I've come to offer you something of value." With his interest piqued, the boy asked what it might be. "A position as one of my pupils. You would receive private tutoring in whichever fields you select and specific training for your unique ability."

Reines chimed in from the side, maintaining her usual chilly disposition. "Big brother has offered you this opportunity because you were able to place in this year's Tournament. You are the only one to ever be formally asked to be one of his students."

Shirou looked deep into Waver's eyes to determine his intentions. Finding absolutely nothing, he tried another way of weaselling out of this. "How will you have any time for me when you already have Flat, Svin," he paused, as the thought of Gray brought her face to his mind. The image interrupted his train of thought for the barest moment, though it likely came off as him forgetting her name, "and Gray."

"I've had more than four pupils at once. Besides, Flat and Svin are both experienced magi with a firm understanding of their abilities after my assistance. They hardly require any more guidance." The Lord continued beaming at him expectedly, as did the two girls on either side.

Considering his options, which were surprisingly sparse, he decided on what he believed to be the path of least resistance. "In that case, I accept your gracious offer."

The man nodded shortly. "I'm glad to hear it. If you aren't busy, I would like to see you tomorrow morning in the study room outside my office, are you familiar with its location?"

Shirou pulled up the map of the Clock Tower in his mind. Using the signatures of previous traces and comparing them to that of the man directly ahead of him, he narrowed the options down to two places. "I believe so. The first basement level on the north-east side, right?"

The man's face twitched, and surprise edged its way onto his face. "Yes, it is." The Lord cleared his throat, looking back toward Reines. "We should be going, the two of us have other business to handle."

"But-" Reines began.

"No buts, I've given you some extra freedom the past week but you've been falling behind in your studies." Turning halfway around, he offered one last glance toward his new student. "What you did with Luvia was very noble, I'm certain those close to you are proud." Turning around fully, he walked toward the exit.

Gray stayed behind, beaming at him for a few seconds before hastily turning and moving to catch up. Avalon sent a wave of extreme pressure to his chest. She was leaving, and the relic wanted him to speak up.

Gritting his teeth, the pressure grew worse as Gray moved closer to the exit. It felt like his lungs would explode out of his chest as she trailed out of the open door behind the second Lord El-Melloi. Only when she was gone did the pressure alleviate, but a pulsing sensation timed to his heartbeat continued to remind him of his error.

"I can't ask her anything in public, just give me a little time. When the time is right I'll talk to her and figure out whatever it is you want to know." He could tell by how the relic hesitated to ease the pain that its faith in him was waning. Whether he wanted to or not, he would be forced to talk with Gray.

Letting out a harsh sigh, he did his best to ignore the pressure. On the other side of that door would be a crowd that would mob him with questions, insults and everything under the sun. Out of all the recent events, a single thought brought a smile to his face. With his loss in the Tournament, the wealthy magi who happened to bet on him had likely lost a hefty sum.

… … ...

The heavy bag echoed through the empty gym with each punch. A solid thwap as flesh rebounded off rigid faux leather. Accompanying each noise was the rush of moving air and a huff of laboured breath, along with the much quieter patter of heated sweat dripping to the floor. He had left the lights to the room off, leaving the area dim enough to hide detailed features but bright enough so he could see what he was doing.

Shirou had been in the gym for hours, exercising the thoughts away and trying to forcefully eject them with punches. He was using the heaviest bag he could find, packed solid with dense sand that was still being dented with each powerful strike.

His mind was foggy, clouded and distant from the activity. The magus had called him a murderer, he had feared and grovelled for his life when there wasn't any threat of danger. So what was the real cause? Were the rumours surrounding him just that ominous or was something else at play?

Gritting his teeth and growling in anger, his right fist plowed into the bag, blast of mana snapping the chains suspending it from the ceiling. With a heavy thud from the wall on the opposite side of the gym, the bag slumped to the floor.

Huffing in exhaustion, Shirou looked down at his bleeding, smoking fists. He had killed five people with these hands and even now, he could see the blood of every single one. Regardless of the events leading up to their death, they were still people and they still deserved to live.

Didn't they?

But if they were allowed to live, each one would have harmed his friends and family, or both. Was one life truly worth more than the other? If every life was equal, if the old man and his ideals were right, then he was a monster, nothing more than a murderer.

But if each individual had a value, what then?

The questions continued piling up again and again. Each time the looping spiral into confusion made him feel trapped, confined. It felt like he was being crushed from all sides and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had been forcing these feelings down for so long, but they were all surfacing at once, he was hopeless, he was a monster, he was-

Footsteps brought him out of his self-reflection near instantly. Snapping his head upright, he spotted Lectra, staring at him like she had seen a ghost. "Blade? After what happened in the Tournament, you disappeared like a ghost!" She moved forward a few steps but stopped abruptly upon catching sight of his state. "Everyone has been worried about you," she mumbled, looking him up and down.

Growing self-conscious immediately, Shirou looked down to see his sweaty, blood-stained gear. The blood was all his, smeared across the fabric from his bleeding knuckles. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to make anyone worry."

A long, awkward silence followed that let Shirou realize just how cold the room was. "It's fine, as long as you're safe," Lectra eventually sighed, taking a few more cautious steps forward. "Have you been down here since the Tournament? It's almost midnight, and it was six when you left."

"It's really been that long? Guess I lost track of time," he laughed hollowly, turning his head down so he wouldn't have to look her in the eyes. Three more footsteps set her at an arm's length away. A shiver coursed through his body, making him wonder when the air got so cold.

"You sure you're alright? It isn't like you to isolate yourself-" she paused abruptly, noticing something. There was the sound of a minor struggle and the ruffling of heavy fabric. Before he could react, a hoodie was being thrust in his direction. Across the front was her trademark kittens-in-ramen design. "You're shivering, so here. It's too big for me so it should fit you."

Looking up hesitantly, he found her bubbly, smiling face staring back at him from above a thin black t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on the chest. His eyes flickered between the article being offered and his bloodied hands. "If you get blood on it, no biggie, can always get another."

His fingers twitched toward it for a moment, before his mind properly took control and he gave his head a shake. "No thanks, you've had it for years, I don't want to ruin it."

The smile softened partly and she pulled the hoodie back to deeply examine its cracked design. "So you really can see things like that. Can you tell who gave it to me?"

Shirou was confused for a moment, but he couldn't find a reason to decline. Because it wasn't a weapon, he would need to put in some effort to find any detailed facts. In the darkness of the gym, he mumbled "trace on", closed his eyes and delved into the history of the article.

It was made in Hong Kong by several Chinese children more than eight years ago. From there it was shipped to the UK, Glasgow specifically, where it was purchased within five days by a man named Peter Stross. It was delivered by mail to London, where it was then unboxed on Christmas day, 1994 by a girl named Landry Hammon, the same girl standing just ahead.

Opening his eyes, he furrowed his brow. It was a gift, so why didn't she know who had given it to her? Why was she so interested? " Peter Stross," he spoke before thinking, rapidly wondering if he would regret the statement.

Oddly enough, Lectra didn't speak a word. There was a moment of silence, then an uncharacteristically hollow chuckle as she clenched her hand into a fist around the garment. "Peter _Stross_ ," she mumbled thoughtfully. As he was about to say something, the girl returned her gaze to him with another bright smile. "It's late and you've got to wake up early tomorrow for class, right? You can crash in my room if you don't want to walk all the way back to yours."

"Before I go anywhere, can I clean up a little?" Shirou asked quietly, still conscious of his sweat-coated condition. She nodded and he turned to head toward the showers before she quickly called out his name.

A few steps away, Lectra's voice called out to him. "Your hands are still bleeding, I've never seen you bleed from such small wounds like that for more than a couple minutes," she pointed out, gesturing toward his knuckles. Bringing one hand to his face for a closer investigation he discovered Lectra was right.

His skin wasn't repairing itself like usual.

… … …

… … …

Waking up the next morning was far from anything joyful. Rather than being achy or tired, he awoke in pain. Sparing a glance at his hands, he found the source immediately. Underneath the bloodied bandages, his wounds pulsed with the beat of his heart. Avalon wasn't accelerating his healing and he had a very good indication as to why: The relic was punishing him for not speaking to Gray.

Sitting up in his bed he looked up to find the elegant form of Reines seated plainly on his desk. The stare she offered was unnaturally casual; blinking slowly once, she elegantly crossed her legs and settled both hands on her knees. "You talk in your sleep."

Rubbing his eyes to assure that he wasn't hallucinating, Shirou frowned and mumbled out a, "what do I say?"

The girl paused and the corners of her lips flickered upward for the barest moment. "You don't really talk much, but you ask _why_ a lot and sound like you're in pain. What you do say, doesn't make any sense." The girl pushed herself off the desk, standing demurely in front of his desk. "Being honest, it's interesting to watch." He stared at her for a moment before glancing at the alarm clock on his night table. It was six in the morning, didn't she have anything better to do?

Standing, he tried to grab one of the shirts neatly folded on the edge of his desk, only managing to yank it off the edge to the ground before hissing in pain. With Avalon healing him all his life, he had nearly forgotten that scabs, blisters and other painful lesions existed. Every flex of his knuckles broke open the scabs, re-opened the wounds and sent burning pain through his arms. "Boundaries just don't exist for you, do they?" The question seemed to fly right over her head, as she held a vacant stare. "Breaking into someone's room and watching them sleep is kind of creepy."

Bending down, he picked up the shirt with more force, gritting his teeth through the pain. It was a labour to put it on, as both arms were sore from his overdone training last night. Shaking her head slowly to avoid throwing her perfectly straight hair around, she gave him a serious look. "That wasn't my goal. I've come to let you know that it is time for you to make good on our deal."

It took him a second, but he remembered what deal she referred to: Reines would get the other magi off Lectra's back, but he would need to do a few favours of his own for her. "You need me right now?"

"Right now is possibly the only time we have. I will give you ten minutes to prepare yourself, but you will accompany me after that." Turning casually on her heels, she strode through his small room to the door, opening and closing it behind herself.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, he let his shoulders collapse and his entire body relax. Closing his eyes tight, he reached out to find the golden glow of Avalon, surprised when darkness was all he could find. "I know you can hear me, so just work with me for now. There's nothing I can say or do to get out of this, so you'll have to wait."

He paused, expecting the light to appear and for his body to begin healing. When nothing of the sort happened, he grew irritated. "Look, you either help now for a little while longer or I might die and you'll _never_ get to speak with her."

Nothing.

No, _less than nothing_.

He felt hollow, like a key component of who he was had been cut off and silenced. Grumbling angrily, he opened his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that Avalon simply wasn't going to help him out for now.

As fast as he could with his injured hands, he prepared himself for the day and stepped out of his room with his projected outfit. Reines didn't even speak a word, simply acknowledging him with her eyes before walking down the hall. He followed her throughout the Clock Tower to the first basement level. Their journey ended when they reached a large, clinical-looking room.

Positioned in the center, was a cushioned chair with clamps on the arm rests. Beneath the chair, was a square sheet of wrinkled heavy plastic. Upon analyzing the room, he looked toward Reines with great concern. "Barbaric in appearance, yes. However, I believe it will be necessary."

"You expect me to sit in that?" he asked with some astonishment.

"Of course, if you're willing to help Lectra of course."

Glancing between the platinum blonde and the strange chair, he considered how much he would go through to help Lectra. While asking the question in his mind, his body already decided to move forward.

Carefully seating himself in the chair, he shimmied himself into a comfortable position. With a synchronized clang, both clamps snapped down around his wrists, locking him into the chair. That had been expected, but the large clamp that snapped around his neck to keep his head in place hadn't. With some surprise, he began struggling futilely in his restrains.

Calmly from behind him, Reines began an explanation. "The first component of our deal was that you were to get a haircut. After seeing your reaction to such a prospect, I determined this was the only way you would allow it to happen."

At that moment, the clipping sound of scissors was scarier than anything else in his life. "You can't be serious, you're really going to cut my hair?" The girl merely hummed in the positive and without much more warning, he felt slim hands grip at his hair and scissors trimming them to length.

Despite his struggling and wriggling, the girl carried on and regardless of how much he shouted and pleaded for help, nobody came. Reines Archisortie had tricked him and he was trapped like a rat.

If only someone would have heard his cries for help.

* * *

 **The end of the "Tournament Arc". Unfortunate, but all good things need to come to an end - this arc especially. I've got some spicy stuff planned for the next chapter and I hope that writing it goes a little better than it did for this one.**

 **Remember to shout out my beta Talndir** **for providing an extensive amount of help and for the timely editing!**

 **Remember to favourite, follow and leave a review!**


	19. Shattered Second Life

**EDIT:** **Red is a nice colour. Did you know that the colour combination of red and yellow are designed to make people hungrier? It also helps that it stands out and actively draws the eye. Great, now after just talking about it, I'm already hungry.**

 **You'll all be glad to hear that writing is coming a little easier now! Toward the end of this chapter and from what I've started on the next one, things just seem to be able to flow better in my mind! Already got 5000 on Chapter 20, so hopefully, I can get that out soon.**

 **We've reached 200 reviews! A big milestone for me personally. I'm kind of mad at all you readers, however, because you left it at 199 for so long. I was considering _not_ releasing this chapter until it finally reached that number, but thankfully it did!**

 **Sometime after this chapter, most likely, we'll also reach the 500 follower milestone! Half a thousand, big progress! Hope to reach 1000 who knows how many more after that!**

 **With all of that over, please enjoy!**

* * *

Looking in the mirror brought on a sense of depression. With deep-seated regret, he ran his fingers through his hair, huffing angrily as it failed to look any better. The messy, casual spiked look had been removed, replaced with a significantly shorter, styled look with much of the remaining hair slicked backward. It retained its orange colour for the most part, but his silver roots contrasted the flaming orange tips immensely. Bangs which had previously covered his forehead stood upright on the top of his head and the strands of fully silver hair that had originally sat above his left eye gave him an out of place highlight. The hair coupled with his beige skin admittedly gave him a fierce look that added two years to his age appearance-wise, but something was off. Shirou personally felt that his bright orange eyes didn't compliment his appearance at all. In fact, he felt that the silver his eyes were changing into would work much better.

"You look much more handsome," Reines commented from behind, startling him. Spinning around to look her in the eyes, the nonchalant form of the Archisortie appeared.

Recovering, he asked the first thing that leapt to mind, "How did you walk across the entire room without making so much as a creak?" When hardwood flooring aged, it creaked. And Reine's room had a floor made entirely of hardwood. At that moment, he had been standing in front of her bathroom mirror in a well-hidden bathroom connected to her room. He hadn't seen it before, but behind the large bookshelf was a fully furnished bathroom opened by pulling a specific book upon the shelf. Shirou enjoyed the prospect thoroughly, finding the secret-agent vibe interesting.

The girl shrugged her thin shoulders in response. Neglecting his question entirely, she thrust out one hand to him, opening it to reveal a small double-terminated, rose-coloured crystal. "Please carry this gemstone and put it inside your ear when you arrive so that I can guide you."

Shirou frowned, hesitantly putting out his hand regardless. "How are you going to guide me through a mansion you've never seen before?" The gemstone was placed in his hand. It was rigid, but felt slimy and gelatinous, unlike any sort of object he had ever touched before.

"The gem will allow us to communicate and it will let me see everything through your own eyes. I'll be inside of you in a way." The odd wording made Shirou cringe immediately, but Reines hardly seemed to notice the meaning behind what she had just uttered.

Closing his eyes and scrunching his face in disgust, he held out a hand to stop her before she could continue. "Never word anything like that ever again, please," he begged, carefully slipping the gem into his pocket for safekeeping.

"Find my way into the manor and silence the Animusphere informant," Shirou recited, growing confused as the sound of his own voice reached his ears. It was altered and entirely unplaceable. A single octave lower, with a secondary overtone that wavered to further obscure his real voice. That wasn't the point of concern however, it was what this new voice was saying that made him feel odd. It was cold and empty, devoid of emotion and focused entirely on a murderous goal.

That topic brought on more questions. When he had initially heard what Reines wanted in exchange for her favour with Lectra, he nearly asked if the blonde was insane. Murder someone to prevent her expulsion?

Now it was different. If this man really did have information on his father, he was a threat. Though was he really prepared to murder someone just to avoid the _chance_ of his family being discovered? He was being ordered around to snuff out targets like a contract killer, an assassin. Was that all he was to her? Some sort of attack dog on a leash, trained to bite when ordered? Looking down at his gloved hands, he clenched them both into fists, causing the leather to squeak from the tension. "What are the chances that this informant really knows what you say he does?" he asked, producing a glower that actually managed to make the unmoving Archisortie step back.

There was a pause, a hesitation that told him more than her words. "Ninety-five percent. The Animusphere family wouldn't spend so much time and effort defending this man if he didn't have sensitive knowledge."

The mask featured black meshing over his eyes, meaning his accusing squint likely wasn't even seen by the petite blonde, but he made one regardless. "If he knows so much about the Magus Killer, why hasn't he come forward to the Mage's Association directly?"

Reines grasped her own wrist with one hand ahead of herself, trying to appear meek. "That would almost be a direct invitation for the Magus Killer to come out of hiding again. It's obvious that the man doesn't want to be found." Taking his silence as confusion, she huffed and began to explain. "The Mage's Association recently sent out magi to investigate a possible lead on the Magus Killer. Not even three days later, all three went missing. There have been efforts made to track them down, but there are several airplane tickets in their names and eyewitness accounts of them being in entirely different countries far from their supposed target." The woman shrugged half-heartedly, an action that reflected her true emotions on the matter. Her eyes sharpened after a blink, becoming accusing. "Why are you so interested in the Magus Killer?"

Gritting his teeth, Shirou thought on his feet and strode forward, encroaching on her space and forcing her to look upward. In the most ominous voice he could muster he gave a menacing, "He and I have some personal business to settle."

… … …

"Have I got big news," Luvia claimed, slamming herself into a chair at their table. The act jostled everything atop its surface and nearly spilt Lectra's coffee. Shirou had preemptively raised his own glass of water in anticipation of the act. A brief glance revealed that the royal blonde was _exhausted_ , with dark bags under her dull, half-glazed eyes. Despite the obvious fatigue, she didn't appear any different than usual.

Her eyes locked onto his and he actively watched her perform a double take. She was staring at the area between his hood and his forehead, trying to peer through the dark place at his chopped hair below. Throwing his head downward, he tried to naturally focus on the remains of his fries.

"What's the news?" Lectra asked, wrapping both hands around her coffee. "Does it have something to do with your win in the Tournament last night?"

Luvia continued staring at Shirou, glaring daggers at him until Lectra called out her name hesitantly. Twitching, she casually turned with an absolutely spaced-out gaze. "What?" she asked for a moment, then snapped to her original thought. "Right, my news. For now, that can wait." Fanning her hand as if the matter had lost all importance, she turned back to Shirou. "Did you get your hair cut?"

Grumbling, Shirou allowed his head to fall further and contact the table with a loud thump. Giggling, Lectra laid one hand on the back of his head. "He wanted a trim, but the barber lopped most of it off."

It was an outright lie, but one that covered his real story efficiently. The last thing he wanted Lectra to know was that she was in danger of being expelled and that he was helping her by dealing with Reines - by killing other magi. While he had been exaggerating his hatred toward the haircut to start with, the extra attention he was getting solidified his resentment. People had been giving him glances all day although whether that was due to the events of last night or such a minor change of appearance really was up in the air.

People didn't jump out of his way in fear any more at least. Now they just avoided him and asked countless questions with their eyes. Even now, their table was the focal point of nearly every other magus in the room. If Shirou concentrated hard enough, he could catch the names of himself and his friends.

Luvia snorted into a chuckle. "Unless they shaved you bald, it can't be that bad."

She reached out to grab his hood but he quickly placed both hands on the back of his head to keep it down. Speaking a single word warning for her to leave it be, the girl huffed and sat back in her seat. "I don't care if you won the tournament you still don't get to see it."

There was a noise of confusion. "But I never won the Tournament, didn't you stay to watch the final?" There was a pause, then the noise of scratching as Lectra itched the back of her neck awkwardly. "I guess not. Well, after you let me win, I moved onto the finals and lost a close battle against Delia Jules."

The comment hit both Shirou and Lectra as a surprise. Lifting his head and forgetting about his hair entirely, what he knew of Delia Jules leapt to mind. She was an alteration magus who used a mystic code perfectly suited to her skills. In its normal state, it was a silvery cable made up of hundreds of thin strands, and without any adjustment could be used as a whip with some efficiency. Its real purpose, however, was revealed through the application of mana and imagination.

Delia could alter its shape, mass and every physical property of each individual strand. In one moment and with nothing more than a thought, it could change from a sword or hammer into a shield. The range of application was astonishing, as it could fill every niche desire with a mere thought similar to Shirou and his projection. The only facet which was lacking happened to be durability. Even though each individual strand was slightly reinforced, the material wouldn't allow extensive reinforcement and it could be broken with the correct application of force.

"So you didn't even win your own bet," he summarized, lifting his head to look at her with a smirk. Based on the rush of blood to her cheeks, that had annoyed her to no end.

Turning her head to look away, Lectra took a drink to hide her amusement. "It was certain victory, but even the most assured outcome can still have error."

"Speaking of the Tournament, I don't ever remember you thanking Blade for letting you win," Lectra pointed out. Following a minor stretch, the girl leaned forward until she was practically laying on the table with her upper half, pausing to adjust her arm underneath her head so it would be supported. Luvia's face immediately split into a vicious scowl. It was something Shirou had never actually seen before and he was somewhat startled by the change.

"Thank him for what? I never _asked_ him to forfeit. Being honest, I'm actually furious. I had been anticipating a battle of epic proportions to see which one of us is truly the strongest, but when it came down to it, he was nothing but a disappointment." Her head turned to face him with a scowl. "You gave up your only chance to become this year's champion, to claim you're the strongest magus in the Clock Tower and actually _mean_ it. Can you just tell me why?"

"Because I don't care."

Luvia reacted as if someone had punched her in the face. Recoiling violently before staring at him in disbelief. "How can you not care?"

Growing irritated at her reaction, he decided to reveal his own honest opinion. "The Tournament is nothing more than a stupid game. The tiers mean nothing and it's just a shady way to gamble on students." Shirou felt his face twist into a scowl. He just wanted to make her happy and give her a chance at taking first place, why was she upset with him? "A D-tier magus could beat an A-tier magus, it all depends on what sort of skills each one has and if those skills play to the other magi's weaknesses. If you want an example, just look at me. I don't know very many spells but I still managed to make the top three."

Growling, Luvia continued glaring at him for some time before huffing in anger and turning her head away like a berated child. A rather awkward silence ensued, with everyone feeling at odds about the situation. Eventually, Lectra perked up, nodding her head toward Luvia. "You said you had big news when you got here but never said what it was, did you forget?" she laughed hesitantly, trying to lighten the mood.

A light turned on in Luvia's otherwise empty eyes. "Of course I didn't forget," she lied, "I was merely waiting for the right moment."

"Well don't keep us in suspense," Shirou added dryly, moving his cup to take a drink of water. Eating and drinking had always been an awkward process with his scarf in the way, but after a few weeks, he had grown rather skilled.

"Our family might have a lead on the Magus Killer."

Shirou had to use all of his willpower not to appear blatantly shocked and choke on his water. Swallowing down the cough and likely depositing a mouthful of water in the bottom of his lungs, he did his best to appear apathetic with a questioning look.

"The _Magus Killer_?" Lectra asked with enthusiasm. "Pretty spooky name. Why would you be looking for someone like that? You know, with you being a magus and all."

"He was a freelancer for years, working as a gun for hire in the normal world as well. He was an all-around mercenary and since my family happens to be in the same trade, we started looking for him to eliminate the competition, as it were." Shirou felt his eye twitch at the _eliminate_ segment. So that was why the old man wanted him to avoid the Edelfelt family. "He vanished for over a decade but now signs of his return have surfaced."

"What sort of signs?" Lectra asked for him, something he was grateful for.

"The rumour is that two freelance agents and an enforcer were sent to a city in Japan called Fuyuki a few weeks back. They went off the grid and were found dead in two entirely separate places. The bodies of the freelancers were in Spain and the enforcer ended up in the United States, someplace in Mississippi." The rumour added up. Kiritsugu had said he was putting the bodies somewhere less noticeable but the real question was-

"So how do you know for sure that it was the Magus Killer?" Lectra filled in for him again. Thankfully, she was just as curious as he was.

"Because of the circumstances and the conditions of the bodies. The enforcer was missing her family crest, and it just so happens that it was resold to the Clock Tower by a third party. When the seller was investigated, it was discovered to be an alias. They never existed and couldn't be traced." Luvia leaned forward, stabbing the table with two fingers. "Methods, motives, everything lines up."

"So what's your plan?" Shirou asked finally, trying to remain as calm as possible.

Luvia's hand froze jabbing at the table. There was a moment of pause before she shrugged and laid her hand down flat. Lacking the confidence exhibited before, the girl hesitantly answered, "Fly out to Fuyuki and see if the rumours are true." Suddenly, the girl narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you from Japan, Blade?" He nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going. "You must have heard about this place before then, right? Japan's not very big and magic is pretty lacking there, so..." She trailed on, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

Moving past the insult to his home country, he cleared his throat and fabricated the biggest lie yet. "I'm from northern Japan and if I remember right, Fuyuki is in the south. I've only heard passing comments about it." He decided to add a little truth to make it believable, reaching back to scratch at his neck. "Something about converging ley lines."

Luvia huffed, "Then you're no use to me. I suppose I'll have to go in blind."

"Isn't it a little rash to fly straight toward this Magus Killer's home and knock on his door? If that's his name, there's probably a reason for it," Shirou reasoned, taking a drink of water.

Luvia scoffed, closed her eyes and threw back her hair with one hand. "Only old people enter retirement and if the Magus Killer retired a decade ago, he'll be extremely old now. I'll be able to find him, kill him and claim all the rewards and fame myself."

"So even if he doesn't intend to return to mercenary work, you'll kill him for the glory alone?" Blinking, Shirou mentally stumbled over just how idiotic such a line of reasoning was.

"Just because he's been out of it for years doesn't mean that he can't come back. He's already killed three people, maybe he wants to get back into it."

" _Maybe_ you should wait a couple years until you're older. Then you might be skilled enough to handle something like that, or see how pointless it is."

Luvia glared at him as if he had put down her dog. "Are you saying I'm not strong enough to take him down?"

Turning to face her directly, he offered a glare of equal intensity. "That is precisely what I'm saying."

"And how did you get so knowledgeable on who and who can't take him on?" There was a glimmer of something in her eyes and an ominous feeling instantly struck him. "Hold on a minute, mysterious, can't show his face, excellent at defeating magi, from Japan," she listed, counting off the points on her fingers. " _You're_ the Magus Killer, aren't you?"

He stiffed reflexively, not because she had figured anything out, but because she had gotten close. "I'm not the Magus Killer. If I were, how stupid would it be for me to show up in a place where everyone wants me dead?" Mumbling from the side, Lectra agreed that it would be "pretty stupid".

"Stupid enough to work. You go where you're least expected, a place nobody would be searching to lie low for a while before returning to your real home in Fuyuki," the blonde surmised, lifting her head in self-assurance that she was correct. The smug, close-eyed grin on her face was annoying him for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

Shirou let out an exasperated breath, shaking his head. "You believe what you want but you're still missing key points."

The smile on her face faltered slightly and she cracked open one eye to peer at him. "Points like what?"

"The Magus Killer uses firearms as his weapon of choice. I've never used a gun in my life," an outright lie, "so fit that into your character description." Their tone had grown argumentative. They were both trying to slide by one another but the friction in their differing opinions was causing cracks to form.

From the side, Lectra laughed awkwardly, an attempt at diffusing the situation. "Hey guys, maybe we should just drop the subje-"

"I just might, though to be frank, I'm more interested in how you know so much about the Magus Killer when you were sitting there in silence when I first brought him up," the blonde countered, ignoring Lectra entirely. Mentally cursing himself for the revealing slip up, Shirou's mind raced to start damage control.

Seeing that her words were being ignored, Lectra quickly reached out and gripped Shirou's hood. With one quick motion, it was yanked off to reveal his poor freshly cut hair.

He took a few seconds to recover from the surprise of the act, hands scrambling to recover his head while the royal-blue wearing blonde ahead of him remained surprisingly quiet.

Concealing himself, he threw Lectra a murderous stare which she deflected with a simple smile. Luvia gave a rather short hum of appreciation, drawing his attention back. "I like it. You look a lot older and cold with your hair short. Don't see why you were freaking out about it earlier."

Groaning and depositing his head on the table once more, Shirou mumbled out some truth for the first time in a while. "Because it feels weird to me like it's not who I am." He lifted his head long enough to look toward a clock, checking the time. He was late. Waver had told him to return to the El-Melloi office around one. Unfortunately, it just so happened to be one in the afternoon and it would take him ten minutes walking to get there. "Crap, sorry I need to run!" He shouted, practically throwing himself from the table and taking off in the direction of the office.

It took five minutes to arrive at a sprint. Taking a breath outside of the door so he didn't race in out of breath, he opened the door and found a room that was the entire opposite of an office. First and foremost, it was large. Wider than it was long, it was double the size of Shirou's dorm room. Secondly, the decor would be more natural in a common or living room. To the left were three Cabriole sofas positioned square to one another around a coffee table, leaving an opening toward an empty fireplace on the left wall. Each piece of furniture was made of thick inviting fabric in a warm tone, framed with dark wood to further accent its rustic nature. The floor was hardwood, but much of the space had been covered in rugs which were just as homely. On the edges of the room were bookshelves laden with tomes. They ranged from modern to ancient and were perfectly tidied without a speck of dust.

Even though the fireplace lacked a proper fire, the scent of burning wood remained, mingling with the smell of ink to sweeten the woody tone. Directly ahead, was a tall, hip-height table overloaded with books, papers and writing instruments.

The El-Melloi lord stood here, working over a piece of paper while Reines peeked at the scrawlings from his side. The rest of his students, Gray, Flat and Svin, were seated on the sofas playing a card game of some sort. Each one gave him a strange look as he entered and gawked awkwardly at the room. "Sorry I'm late," he eventually spoke once sense returned to him.

"You're late?" Waver asked, peering over his shoulder toward a clock hanging over a door. "I suppose you are, though when I suggested one in the afternoon, I merely intended it to act as a guideline."

Shirou huffed, mostly because his body still demanded oxygen from his run. "Well, then I'm perfectly on time."

… … …

… … …

When night eventually came, he returned to Reines and went through one last briefing to ensure the details were correct. The meeting also gave him time to prepare himself, something accomplished by adorning his new outfit and projecting weapons to affix across its surface. Because anonymity was paramount, he wouldn't be able to use projection as it was an extremely quick identifier.

The manor where he would supposedly find the informant was outside of London, near to nothing and far from everything. To get there, Reines had given him a car and directions, likely under the assumption that he was eighteen, or that he even had a driver's license - both of which were untrue. Regardless, he didn't want to argue or allow any more personal details to be known, so he took the car and drove himself without complaint. Even without a license, he still knew how to drive. It helped that the British drive on the left, just like in Japan.

Parking the car a considerable distance away, he surveyed the area and created a brief approach plan before advancing. Surrounding the plot was an expansive, somewhat hilly area with extensive tree coverage a short distance from the manor fencing.

While he had the chance, he tried one last time to speak with Avalon. Since last night, the relic had gone off the grid. Shirou couldn't even _see_ it anymore, let alone talk with it. When the relic left, so too did the healing benefit he received from it. One of his greatest advantages was lost, and the mission he was set upon was undoubtedly going to be difficult.

"Still not going to talk to me?" he whispered to the still night air. Waiting a few moments, he half-expected the golden glow to return and begin its primitive way of communication. After a few seconds of nothing, he tried convincing it again. "I'm sorry for avoiding Gray, I really am, but the timing was never right for us to talk." Still nothing, not even a spark. Lowering his head with a sigh, he considered the situation once more. "I need you for this job. I don't know what might happen and if it's the worst, I might even die. So, if I promise to speak with Gray tomorrow no matter what, will you help?" He waited, searching within himself for that familiar gleam.

Regardless of his attempts at convincing, the artifact failed to make an appearance. Deciding that Avalon wasn't going to help, he moved on. Reaching his hand into a pocket of his outfit, he retrieved the rose-quartz gem. Pressing it into his ear with some uncertainty, he was disgusted at the sensation, which could only be likened to sliding cold jello into his ear. Just as he was about to complain about the feeling and the fact that his ear was muffled, normal sound returned as if a switch had been flicked. As the memory of the sensation faded, he pulled down the ballistic mask to conceal his face.

"You're late," came the flat voice of Reines. It was crystal clear and seemed to originate between his ears deep within his skull rather than from a single ear.

"I don't think there's a certain time you're supposed to assassinate someone, I think it just happens when it happens," he reasoned.

"I was just teasing. Find a way inside and get past the bounded field, the informant shouldn't know you're there." Assuming that would be all he would get from her, he cautiously moved closer to the manor ground, establishing a detailed view despite the moonless darkness thanks to his tracing. He took extra time to examine the entire area, verifying the perimeter before finishing his investigation at the back of the manor.

The home itself was built in the 1920s with large arched windows and pillars of stone dominating the facade. He wouldn't be able to confirm until he was inside, but Shirou placed it around eight thousand square feet. There were three entrances, all locked with standard tumbler locks. The perimeter was unwatched, at least in the conventional sense. Surrounding the entire area was an incredibly powerful bounded field. It was an entire league above the Tohsaka manor field, eclipsing it in both durability and resistance.

Trying to put the feeling it produced into words was difficult. The field actively tried to move his eyes away, like some sort of gruesome display or forbidden object. Even his instincts were telling him to stray away from this property, predicting doom and despair should he fail to obey.

Eventually, Shirou reached the back of the property, coming to the conclusion that there was no easy point of access. Surrounding the mansion was a massive wrought iron fence that rose nearly double his own height. He wouldn't be able to scale it on his own power and even if he could, he would fall straight into the bounded field and alert its owner.

Debating his options, he decided on something so simple, it bordered on inconceivable. Creating basic swords in his mind, he mixed in some alteration to provide him with precisely what was required. Within seconds, a _ladder_ made of swords appeared, resting itself on the fencing casually. The swords making up the rungs were curled around the supporting blades, which happened to be elongated greatswords. The effort had made an extremely solid, and extremely heavy, climbing apparatus.

Scaling the fence with ease now, he came face to face with the imposing field, giving it a cursory visual trace to determine just how difficult breaking it would be.

Pulling up the teachings from the Magus Killer himself, Shirou gently placed his hand against the edge of the field. As he traced the mystery through contact, his mind was flooded with data regarding its construction and it hardly took him more than ten seconds to find a flaw.

In the realm of bounded field cracking, tracing proved to be an invaluable tool. Shirou could match Kiritsugu in speed and efficiency. While the old man was far more experienced and knew precisely what to look for, tracing revealed every single fault - even the ones Kiritsugu might miss.

Using a technique passed down from his father, Shirou adjusted the field to recognize his body's own signature as a friendly entity. Once he was certain the alarm wouldn't be tripped, Shirou leapt over the fence into the yard before dematerializing his ladder.

Stealthily moving toward the manor itself, he reached its perimeter and laid one hand against it to perform a proper tracing. Closing his eyes, the layout of the entire manor came to life, but something was wrong.

Shirou couldn't see individual people, but he could make accurate guesses based on the pressure bearing down in each area and its relative age. According to the information he received, there was only one person inside the entire manor and they were seated in front of a fireplace in the west wing.

Removing his hand, Shirou blinked then furrowed his brow behind his mask. For all Reines had spoken about, this Animusphere family didn't provide much protection for their informant. "There's only a single person inside, this doesn't seem right," he mumbled aloud, deciding to question Reines.

"You can determine who is inside? Intriguing, regardless, the Animusphere family is currently tied up with their own project, a supposed world order. Even so, they can still find the time to send out informants, spies and be a general nuisance to every other lord family." For the first time since Shirou had known her, Reines actually sounded annoyed.

Clearing his throat elicited a soft noise from the other side. "Why would they leave their own home defenceless?"

"They haven't. The Animusphere family is one of the most respected families of the Clock Tower. They lead the Astrology department and are notorious for creating complex, convoluted traps using runecraft. If you believe there to be absolutely no danger, move with extreme caution as there likely is."

Having Reines' smooth, sombre voice resonating in his skull was an odd feeling and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Giving his head a little shake, he looked around himself to try and gather his bearings. He was at the backside of the manor, a place which featured an expansive backyard and a balcony over a concrete-pad deck.

It acted as an easy point of access, something Shirou could exploit. Reaching into his mind, Shirou withdrew the extendable bo staff mystic code. Calculating the distance, he spun the weapon to rest underneath his shoulder. Once he was certain, he sprinted forward and propelled himself upward over the railing onto the balcony surface with a soft thump. Not wanting to waste any time, he cautiously moved toward the door, extending his hand but stopping himself short like his body had locked up.

"What happened, did the connection get broken? To me it looks like you're standing absolutely still outside a door," Reines chimed in.

"This door is trapped, but I can't see how." Testing his hypothesis, he withdrew his hand, the sensation of the air changing drastically. Surrounding the doorknob was a compressed aura that had set alarms off in his mind. It was peculiar that he couldn't see the mystery even though he had traced the entire mansion.

"I assume it would be a component of their bounded field or the actual construction of the house itself rather than an overlying magecraft," she hummed, vibrations travelling through his own skull and making him wince.

"I can't do anything if the magecraft is woven within the material," he mumbled to himself, thinking it over for a second. "Or can I?" he asked, closing his eyes. He was a second away from speaking his aria when he remembered that he had a spectator. "Hey, Rei, what happens if I take out this gem from my ear?"

There was an oddly long pause before she responded. "I won't be able to see or hear anything until you put it back, why?"

Without answering, he stuffed one hand underneath his hooded mask to withdraw the gem. Now - confident that his secrets wouldn't be revealed - he whispered "trace on", replaced the gem in his ear and examined the construction of the door in depth.

Instead of Reines' commanding voice, an ear-piercing shriek stabbed directly into his brain. Twitching to the side from the extreme noise, he raised one hand to his ear, preparing to rip the gem out if the noise continued. Thankfully it dissipated within a couple of seconds. "Forgot to mention there might be some _slight_ interference with the distance, my bad."

Clenching one eye tight as his ear recovered, he broke down the composition of the doorframe and determined that his instincts were right. Unlike most traps, which utilized a bounded field or some other sort of detection type magecraft, this one was a mystery trapped within every fibre.

He had options now at the very least. He could simply blow the entire door frame apart, although that was undesirable for several reasons. He could try alteration to nullify the effect or change its properties, or he could try something else entirely.

Reaching into his mind, Shirou found the anti-magic bolt and materialized it within his hand. With a rough thrust, it was embedded within the stone frame. As the concept was enacted, an eruption of sparks splashed over him and the area.

The two conflicting forces were destabilized and after a few long seconds, they cancelled one another out. Shirou dematerialized the now normal arrow and gripped the door handle only to find it locked.

With a roll of the eyes, he traced the lock and altered a blank key to fit the tumblers perfectly. Unlocking the door like he owned the home himself, Shirou let himself in and silently closed the door behind.

The inside of the manor was deathly silent and the air itself was heavy like he was in a dense evening fog. The interior was incredibly antiquated, with modern pieces haphazardly strewn about. It gave Shirou the sense that the owners cared little for preserving aesthetics, or that they were too lazy or preoccupied to renovate the entire manor.

Cautiously moving down the hall, he looked around and took in the decor. Lining the walls were finely made portraits of men, women and families. Several faces repeated, but it became apparent that the variety had fallen off. Visually tracing the paintings he came across, he took note of the dates of creation. The newer the painting, the more likely it was to feature one of two people: A young, confident-looking woman with intricately braided ivory hair or an incredibly plain, simple looking older man.

The strange thing was, the man was so plain and ordinary, he stood out in comparison to the other members of his family. Basic brown hair styled in no particular way, plain brown eyes and an average nondescript figure. From within his skull, a resentful Reines explained what he was looking at. "Marisbury Animusphere, the man who put himself through intense bodily reconstruction to be _average_."

Shirou didn't say a word, deciding it to be a risk he couldn't take, he continuing to skulk through the house. Placing his hand on the wall, he traced the entire structure and gathered a layout of the building. With knowledge of how the traps were being crafted, he could actively pick them out throughout the construction of the manor. One of these traps was actually just ahead around the corner at the top of the staircase. In order to reach his target, he would need to go down a floor, then pass through a dining room and the kitchen. As far as Shirou could tell, the shortest path had seven individual traps in the floor, walls and even the ceiling. He couldn't tell what each one would do and he had no intention of finding out.

Rounding the corner, Shirou projected another anti-magic bolt and threw it down onto the floor. Unexpectedly, only a portion of the area was rendered inert rather than the entire trap. Without running any intense calculations, Shirou gauged he would only be able to trace a dozen or so more bolts before he would run himself dry since conceptual weapons were significantly more costly to project. It took two more bolts to fully clear the area of embedded mana. If it took three bolts to clear each trap, he would need eighteen more bolts to clear the remaining six traps. That was mana he didn't have, so he would need to find a new route with fewer traps.

Pulling up the blueprint of the manor, he found exactly what he was looking for. If he went down the nearby set of stairs and traversed several smaller rooms, he would find himself just outside of the dining room, cutting the number of traps down to three. He could also reduce the number of bolts being used by strategically throwing them to open up small pathways without destroying the entire trap.

After some trial and error, Shirou managed to cut down the use of his bolts to four and he had made it to the same destination without there being much difference in time.

Entering the dining room, Shirou cut a path through a trap on the wall and continued straight into the kitchen. Another trap from the floor separated him from the open doorway which led to his target's location. After removing it in a similar fashion to the last, he gained a vantage point of his target from behind.

It was a man, nearing his thirties with shoulder-length ebony hair. He was sat in a tall-backed leather chair which faced a crackling fireplace. He was holding onto something which illuminated his front with a whitish glow, something which clearly stood out from the orange light of the flames.

Stealthily moving forward, Shirou crept closer toward the chair, reaching behind his back for a nameless dagger recollected from the British Museum. The simple leather band that had been holding it just below the hilt hardly made a sound, impossible to be heard over the roar of the fireplace.

Lifting the blade to his front, a thought crossed his mind. The remaining shred of his conscious questioning whether this was the right choice. If he killed this man, he would be committing murder in every sense of the word. It could have been claimed that his previous kills were all performed to save the life of another, but what was he killing this man for? To stop someone he knew from being expelled? Was that really justification enough?

No, it wasn't. Though he had come to that conclusion long ago, hadn't he? Before he could carry through with his true intentions, a voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "I don't believe you were ever invited."

Shirou's eyes couldn't even widen in the time it took the man stand from his chair. While Shirou leapt back to make distance, the man casually turned to face Shirou while snapping a cellphone in his hand shut. Shirou quickly shuffled his arms to grab onto the two combat-focused swords on his back. If things went sour, he wanted to be prepared at least. Drawing the blades in front, he felt both prepared and entirely out of his league and he couldn't explain why. "How long have you noticed I was here?" he asked with his altered voice, eyeing the man's features like a hawk.

The man had a sharp, almost jagged face with rugged olive skin and cutting features. Saying he was chiselled from marble would be undermining how angular his face truly was. Something that had eluded his sight due to the angle, was an eyepatch concealing the right eye. The remaining eye was a deep brown, nearing black, set deep within sharp angular sockets that gave the appearance of a man who was eternally angry. Such a gaze betrayed the rest of his face, which while admitted jagged was oddly friendly and inviting. A brief visual trace revealed a festered, damaged eye behind the patch. After falling to a secret weapon once, he wasn't prepared to fall for it again. The details seemed to escape Shirou as he focused on a single piece of jewelry hanging loosely from the man's neck: a silver cross.

The priest stood with confidence, no, he stood with apathy. Even standing before what could only be an assassin out to kill him, this man looked entirely willing to offer a cup of tea. "How long has it been since you first gained access to the balcony door?" In the midst of a chuckle, the phone in his hand made a soft _ding_ and he calmly opened the device to see what notification awaited him.

A magus using modern technology was as rare as a six-leaf clover, so this sight was just another baffling development among many in the moment. "How long has it been since you broke open the balcony door?" he mumbled, looking up from his cellphone for a scant few seconds.

Shirou huffed, straightening somewhat as the danger of the situation faded, though his tight grip on Elizabeth's blades remained stalwart. "So the traps were your doing? I must admit, it was quality work."

The priest broke into a smile that nearly cracked his entire stone-like face. "The Animusphere defences were lacking in my opinion. There was also no way for me to detect intruders, so reworking the entire house was the best option." The phone snapped closed and the priest's attention was fully returned to Shirou.

"I suppose you know why I've come then."

"Of course," he stated simply, maintaining that eerie smile. "A man withholding valuable information does not go freely."

"And what sort of information might that be?" Shirou asked, hands tightening around the handle of each sword.

"Blade, don't-" Reines quickly exclaimed with surprising emotion.

"The typical sort. Insight into potential espionage or financial opportunities, locations of various members of the Church and Mage's Association amongst other things. Being an executioner of the church has its benefits after all." The man's cell phone pinged with a notification and he immediately moved to check it.

Shirou huffed. It was exactly as he thought, Reines was lying to him. He wasn't fully sure on her reasonings for doing so, but she had - and that was bad enough. He had been tipped off by the subtle things. How she always pressed his boundaries, the comments mumbled under her breath and the reaction by an A-tier magus, Kain. His night in the gym had been more than a moral self-reflection, it had been a breakdown and consideration of events. The only logical explanation was that someone had convinced Kain to overreact in such a manner, and there were very few people who could do such a thing.

The only issue now, was that he had to appear ignorant. If he tipped Reines off, she might actually expend some of her power to expel Lectra, or worse. If she could see and hear everything he could, then his own movements out of his sight would be unseen by her as well.

"An executioner? I don't believe I've ever met one before." Waiting for the man to pop his head upward, Shirou calmly motioned the blade in his left hand toward the ear on the same side, the one with a gem embedded within.

Eventually, after finishing his work on the phone, the priest looked upward and immediately seemed to catch on to what was implied. "Is it too hot in here for you? We can move to another room."

Or not.

Obviously, the man needed a more direct signal. "I'm not interested in moving to another room, I'm here to kill you, remember?" Slipping the blade in his left hand back into the band that had held it, he pointed directly at his ear, then opened and closed his hand to mimic the act of speaking.

The man snorted, was that supposed to be a signal of understanding? "Very well then, if that's what you must do." Casually, the priest tucked his phone into a pocket of his robes, raising his fists and assuming a stance. Retrieving the blade to his left hand, a silence clouded the room, interrupted occasionally by the crackling flame. Then, a slight creak of a wooden floor as weight was shifted.

As quick as Shirou could react, he was deflecting blades. The man had snapped forward and swung before he could even fully comprehend what had happened. Immediate fear settled into his body, and his muscles worked to counter the next incoming strike. His swords were striking not one, but four individual blades. In the dim light, Shirou could see each one held tight between the man's fingers.

The priest was fast, inhumanly so. Trying to predict the next strike with his suicidal tactic was even difficult, and with each exchange of blows, the executioner seemed to be getting closer to slipping past. In what was only a few seconds, more than a dozen strikes had been made by those claw-like blades and each one wore down his projections heavily. Both swords would likely only survive a few more hits before shattering completely.

An overhead strike was blocked by a sideways blade, holding the priest's arm aloft. Shirou readied his other arm to parry an expected slashing attack but was shocked when the man dematerialized the blades and tucked his arm tight. Before Shirou could even consider how to mount a defence, a fist rocketed into his abdomen. Upon impact, a blast of energy flared outward, sending him flying backward and both of his battered blades from his hands.

Blinding white pain coursed through his entire body, amplified as he slammed back-first into the doorway of the kitchen. Collapsing on the ground, Shirou wheezed for air, clutching at his destroyed torso. That punch had gone straight through his reinforcement and broken both of his lower ribs. Thankfully his lungs or organs hadn't been punctured, but he was extremely injured regardless.

Barely managing to stand on his own two feet, Shirou raised his fists in time to defend a few simple strikes, being taken by surprise when he was gripped by the collar and thrown clear across the room with unprecedented strength. Unsure of which direction was up or down anymore, Shirou collided and broke a large cabinet which was filled with glassware and various liquor.

Landing on the warm wooden floor with a wheeze, he forced his struggling arms down to push his upper body back up. He was outmatched, he had made the foolish mistake of underestimating his opponent but he could still fight, he could still win! It couldn't end here. Shards of glass and wooden splinters littered his body but the blood loss was insignificant. The pain radiating from his back and front was ignored as he gritted his teeth and commanded his failing body to move.

Placing one foot flat on the floor, he prepared to lift himself up to stand. "Your reaction time is lacking, you should work on that," the priest commented jovially. Before Shirou could finish standing, his head was being twisted by the chin to face the man directly. The priest reared back an open right hand. Was it over? His first encounter with an executioner from the Church would end like this? Then the name wasn't just a scare tactic.

The priest's hand snapped forward toward the side of his head. On impact, a deafening ringing dominated Shirou's left side and the entire world went dark.

… … …

… … ...

He was tapping a pencil against an open book. Inside, inconsistent scribblings from various dates, none of which signified anything of importance. It had been years since his last glimpse into what he could only assume was the future.

During that time, he had recorded every dream, each vision so he could exploit even the smallest detail. He had done well and had technically won his Holy Grail War by being the sole survivor. The visions had ended with the War, meaning he had lost valuable insight. Where or why it had ended was a complete mystery to him.

He was left to forge the future on his own intuition, though after years of meticulous planning, he was used to such a thing. He had to admit that he felt a little spoiled. After seeing how easy planning could be with visions of what was yet to come, planning and tactics seemed to be inadequate.

Dropping the pencil on the page, the Magus Killer leaned back and sighed. In two years, his two children would fight against one another in the Holy Grail War against two of their best friends. It would be bloody, cruel and it would twist Shirou into the very monster he wished to avoid becoming: his own father. And what of Kiristugu himself? He would have to pick one of his children to support and the thought of abandoning either for the other sickened him more than the evils of man ever did. What made it worse was the looming knowledge of what would happen to his daughter.

Or would this War be different?

Leaning forward, the chair he was in upon creaked loudly. If Shirou's resolve was strong enough, he could unite his friends and family under a common goal, fight for a single goal and save the world from the Grail.

Sighing, he remembered that he was living on Earth, a planet populated by man. Such an idealistic outcome was impossible. The best outcome still based in reality was bleak at best. Shirou would "win" the Grail War after destroying it to prevent the curse of Angra Manyu from being actualized by a wish. After such a depressing "victory", the two of them, father and son, would work together to destabilize the leylines of Fuyuki and prevent another atrocity from ever taking place.

Even after all these years, the question he had contemplated for hours years ago still burned in the depths of his mind. Why would he wait to demolish the leylines? Debating the question on his own, he came to the same conclusion that he always had. If his dreams had shown him the Fifth War, it was inevitable to occur. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it took place a mere ten years after the last War, or that the Makiri worm happened to have a hand in its formation.

The reasoning hardly mattered. What did was that the War would happen soon, and both Shirou and Illya needed to be prepared for what might come. Grumbling audibly to himself, he came to the conclusion that it was incredibly hot in his room and he needed to cool off. The best way to do that would be through a calm walk during the early dawn.

Quietly walking through the house, he adorned his shoes and stepped through the front door. Standing just outside, he took a deep lungful of cool air. Caught on a light breeze was the scent of oncoming rain and flowers. It was a beautiful night, especially for a walk. The sound of a sliding door made him turn around. Peeking her head out, he recognized the refined features of Missy immediately.

Opening the door further, she took a step outside. Clad in nothing more than a yukata and slippers, it was likely that she had just gotten out of bed. This assumption was further enforced by the slightly dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes. "Where are you going so early, Mister Emiya?" Eyeing her curiously, he explained his intentions and she seemed to nod softly. "Would you be accepting of company?"

Seeing no reason to decline her request, he nodded and waited until she was standing beside him. She had gone back inside to change footwear and adorn one of his own coats. Considering most of her own attire was back in her room, it wasn't all that strange. With the two of them prepared, they both set off in silence into Miyama. A dull orange glow accompanied the rising sun on the horizon, warming the night-cooled ground and awakening the wildlife.

The walk proceeded for ten minutes in silent admiration. Eventually, it was broken by Missy, who calmly stated: "You don't seem to sleep as much as you should."

Equally as neutral, he shot back a response. "A man at work never truly sleeps until the work is finished."

In his peripheral vision, Kiritsugu watched Missy scrunch her face in confusion. "I was under the impression you retired, what could you still be working on?"

He had awkwardly backed himself into a corner. Even with Missy living in the same house as three magi, she had never been let in on the hidden secret. Kiritsugu had done such a thing specifically so that if she ever regained her memories she could re-integrate into the normal human world without much trouble. "I have to prepare my son and daughter for the world, of course." It was a half-lie, neither entirely true nor outright false.

The girl hummed. "I see, yes that is a lifelong effort. Speaking of your son, have you spoken to him recently?"

A pang of guilt ebbed its way into his chest. The last time he spoke to Shirou was on the tarmac of the airport just before he left. He hadn't even tried to call, but there had been a good reason at the very least. Communicating with the Magus Killer was enough for an in-depth investigation. While unlikely for another magus to intercept a call between them, it was foolish to add unnecessary risk to an already dangerous situation. "The other day in fact. He's doing well in his extra studies and should return within a couple weeks."

"That's great to hear, though with you being his father it's far from unexpected." The two turned onto a street leading back to the house, nearly bumping into one another as the sidewalk became cramped. Another few minutes of silent walking preluded a comment from Missy. "You said I was an assassin in my past life, does that make me a serial killer?"

Snorting air through his nose, Kiritsugu shook his head. "Not quite. A serial killer is unrefined, meaningless. An assassin has a goal, a reason to kill."

"But what if I was?"

"If you were a serial killer, you would have a reputation. As far as I know, there was only one serial killer in Fuyuki, and he's been dealt with as you know. My best guess is that you sought out the serial killer to kill him yourself but were caught off guard." With Missy's amnesiatic experience with weaponry coupled with the location she was found in, it was a safe assumption to be sure.

"So I was a serial killer of serial killers," she surmised.

Rolling his eyes, he chalked her fixation on serial killers to her limited scope of the world. "If that helps clarify, yes."

In her soft, shy voice, Missy asked a question after a short moment. "I think I'm alright with that. If I was killing bad people, that would make me a good person, right?"

Kiritsugu sneezed abruptly, blinking several times as the moment of surprise faded. Contemplating her question, he returned to the age-old question of right and wrong, good and evil. Murder was inherently evil, but was it so when the one being murdered was evil themselves? It was a question he had asked himself countless times, a question which he had been close to forgetting during his time with Natalia. "I'm not the person to ask questions of morality, you'll have to decide that one on your own."

Reaching the front gate, Missy suddenly stopped and turned around, watching something in the distance. Lifting a hand to her chest, she mumbled something to nobody in particular. "If I did it before, I can do it again and that might bring back my memories."

Pausing himself, Kiritsugu looked the woman up and down. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Turning her head with a mouth parted with shock, she looked deep into his eyes, turning away toward the ground soon after. There was hesitation, or maybe it was deep thought on her own wishes. Looking back to him, both hands shot down toward her side, clenching into fists. Her next words were spoken with confidence unknown to the normally soft-spoken, demure woman. "Yes, it is. Teach me all you know, master."

… … …

… … …

"Blade?" Lectra asked, tapping her knuckles on the door to his room. Waiting a few seconds without answer, she sighed lengthily, knocking on the door once more with a touch more force. "I wanted to check up on you after what happened this afternoon. I hope Luvia didn't upset you too much."

All she got in response was empty silence. Groaning, she turned and pressed her back against the door. Sliding down to the ground, she tucked her knees up to her chin and wrapped both arms around her legs. "Come on, come on, don't leave me now," she mumbled, lowering her forehead and closing her eyes.

"Hey, Lectra," came a sudden voice. Snapping her head upright, she found Flat standing ahead offering a short wave. "Waiting for the big guy, huh? Mind if I stick around too?" Without waiting for an answer, he moved to the other side of the hall and slid down the wall, copying her position across from her.

Opening her mouth, a slight squeak made its way out before she cleared her throat. "You're waiting for Blade too?"

He nodded, stretching out a leg and resting one hand on the remaining raised knee. "El-Melloi Two sent me out to track him down. I'm supposed to let him know that he's needed tomorrow. He wouldn't tell me what for exactly, but it must be important."

Lectra nervously shuffled her hips in place, reaching up to yank the hood over her head. "I haven't seen him since lunch and he's usually awake around this time."

"You come to his room at times like this very often?" he asked, tilting his head and raising both eyebrows in something akin to concern.

Realizing what he might have taken away from the comment, Lectra lifted both hands and waved them as if the comment was lingering in mid-air and she was dispersing it. "It's not like that, we aren't dating or anything, we just like to hang out and we both happen to be awake late at night."

Flat's face softened and he nodded in understanding. "I get it. So you're not dating which would make you single, right?" Lectra's mind practically imploded. Was this some sort of signal? Was he asking to go out with her or did he have intentions to? What did that mean? Struggling to get a single sound out, Lectra couldn't help an absolutely stunned stare. She eventually realized how hot her cheeks felt and quickly forced her head down to her knees to hide her face.

"You feeling alright?" he asked again, genuine concern in his tone.

Snapping her head upright, she unconsciously bit partly into her lip with an incisor. Nodding erratically, she hummed in the affirmative and gave a less-than-believable "I'm fine".

"But you got all nervous and stuff when I got here." There was a flicker in Flat's eyes, a sudden comprehension. "Oh I see, I think I understand what's going on here." Lectra could feel the air get caught in her throat and became acutely aware of her own racing heartbeat. He wasn't going to say it out loud, was he? "You're embarrassed to be seen here waiting for Blade, right?"

Breathing out a relieved sigh, she lowered her head and took a moment to compose herself. What was she so worried about? Wouldn't it be a good thing if Flat knew her feelings? Returning her uneasy gaze, she put on an equally as unsteady smile. "Yeah, I guess. It's funny because I've been waiting for people my whole life so you'd think I'd get used to it by now."

Flat broke into a bright smile that sent a shiver down her body. "At least you won't have to be all alone with me here." Strangely worded as it was, that comment brought up a mix of emotions she couldn't quite describe. Feeling her cheeks grow warmer than they already were, she stuffed her head back down and sealed her lips to keep in a gleeful squee.

Before she could begin forming a response, the door holding back all of her weight suddenly opened wide and her back slammed onto the cold ground. With her eyes closed, she wheezed out a pained "ow".

"Lady Archisortie!" Flat exclaimed, voice moving higher as he stood. Opening her eyes, Lectra peered directly up the front of Reines Archisortie herself. Turning a shade even a ghost would be envious of, Lectra quickly rolled and scrambled to her feet, assembling right beside Flat with terror on her features. While Blade could treat her like a normal person, they certainly couldn't. Not unless they both wanted to be expelled, that was.

"Listening to you two was making me ill," she glowered, face set in absolute neutrality. "Just kiss and get it over with already," she scoffed. All at once the blood that had left her face returned and a wave of dizzying nausea struck at full force.

Intelligently from her side, Flat spouted out "huh?" and looked between the two girls. "Lectra and I are just friends. Besides, I thought she liked Blade with how much the two hang out."

Reines dramatically rolled her eyes. "Look at her and tell me if you honestly believe that." Darting her head to the side, Lectra tried using her hoodie to conceal her face. Why did it have to be Reines? The most mischievous person in the entire Clock Tower just _had_ to catch them in an awkward moment.

"I must be missing something here."

"Obviously," the blonde sighed. "Your concerns are foundless. Besides, competing against Blade isn't likely to be a problem." The last sentence was mumbled mostly to herself, but everyone present had picked up on it. Even recovering from embarrassment, Lectra turned to ask the Archisortie what she had meant. Glancing between the two, Reines furrowed her brow and scowled partly, almost as if she had broken her favourite toy. "Blade might be dead."

… … …

… … …

Gasping in air brought immeasurable pain coursing through his body. While it demanded oxygen to function, two ribs were shattered and the pain with their slight movement nearly overrode such a fundamental need.

He was on the floor as far as he could tell, but the constricting view due to his mask and the blearing pain marred his sense of space greatly. His body came online slowly, starting downward from the head. While his legs wouldn't function, his arms came alive and he slowly moved to hold his lower rib cage still.

"You're finally awake," came a pleased voice from ahead. Lifting his head from the floor, the smeared image of a man in black returned to him. Trying to recollect the events leading to his situation was like trying to find the coast while stranded in the middle of the ocean. There was an informant, a mansion and a priest but how did all three line up together?

Mustering the strength to lift his upper body off the ground, he fixed his position, suddenly aware of a loud glass-like noise in his left ear. Tilting his head to point the orifice downward, shards and dust spewed free into his mask. "I hope I didn't hit you too hard, though I presume whatever was inside of your ear is broken at the very least."

Finding himself nodding weakly, Shirou slowly moved his body until he was sitting with his back against a door frame. His skull was continually ringing and just keeping himself from vomiting was a herculean task of will.

"Splendid, then, by all means, let's maintain some proper discourse. Unless you prefer that we resume from where we left off." The tone in the priest's throat was one of foreboding malice and Shirou found himself shaking his head before he could consider the options.

Sense was returning, albeit gradually. For the short-term foreseeable future, his brain couldn't operate the rest of his body in a manner that could be considered combat worthy. Once he felt capable of speaking, Shirou looked up toward the priest and tried to focus on his face. "Who are you?"

The priest nodded, breaking into a warm smile. "Introductions are a great way to begin. My name is Hansa Cervantes, Executioner, Dead Apostle hunter and member of the Eighth Sacrament." He offered a small flourish with one hand before bowing part ways. "I assume, as you haven't removed the mask, that you have no intention of telling me your own name."

Blinking as the ringing subsided, Shirou clumsily shook his head to try and assist. Behind the ringing was a deafened sensation. Had his eardrum been ruptured by that attack? "Don't take it as an insult, but my anonymity protects people important to me."

The priest hummed in thought. "Rude, I don't quite know if I believe you."

Deciding it was best to gain his trust by telling the truth elsewhere, Shirou started explaining. "Reines El-Melloi Archisortie ordered me here," he swallowed, using both arms and legs to shakily stand against the door frame. "She lied to me and used the safety of my friend to convince me. I wasn't completely certain on whether she was lying or not, but after you explained your reason for being here, I knew for certain."

The priest nodded solemnly, scratching the side of his chin in thought. "I see, given an impossible task to protect loved ones. I'm already beginning to see a pattern here."

"You're not a threat to my friends, so I have no reason to kill you." He swallowed, the taste of iron and copper filling his mouth. "That being said, I have a favour to ask of you. Something you'd likely never fulfill, especially for a stranger." The priest remained silent, waiting to hear the request. "Leave Britain, go off the radar - at least for a few years."

It was stupid, asking such a monumental favour from someone he had intentions of killing just moments prior. The man in cloth smiled, likely finding humour in how ridiculous such a request was. "Isn't that rather convenient."

Shirou blinked, turning his head somewhat. "I still can't hear out of my left ear, did you say no yet?"

A snorting chuckle followed. "I'll accept your favour, only because circumstance permits me to accomplish it while pursuing my own goals. I have business to attend to in the United States. While I'm unable and unwilling to provide any details, it is likely to take the exact amount of time you need."

Gripping the side of his head and closing one eye to calm the nausea, he struggled to comprehend what was going on. Maybe his luck was turning around for the better. "I didn't actually think of a response if you accepted, so you'll just have to take my thanks."

The priest received a notification on his phone and he carefully withdrew the device to reply. "At the end of the day, I am still a man of God. Providing charity is in the job description, I believe." With an eerie smile, the man snapped his phone shut and deposited it back into his pocket. "If that's all the business we have to conduct, I believe it's best we depart now, agreed?"

Shirou found himself nodding again, body working on survival autopilot. He had underestimated the executioner and it had almost cost him his life. Thankfully, since the man had a shred of morality in his body, the situation had ended amicably but had it been anyone else… "Thank you," Shirou stated, watching the priest nod and leave through the doorway beside him.

… … …

… … …

He barely managed to stumble into his room. After getting in the car, Shirou realized just how debilitating his injuries were. Even breathing was a continuous battle. His lungs had been bruised by the impact and they didn't handle extended use as well as anticipated. Every bump in the road back had been equivalent to a hammer blow to the stomach. The fact that he had even driven himself back to the Clock Tower with a burst eardrum and a concussion was nothing short of a miracle.

Octavia offered him a strange look and a curt greeting but otherwise remained silent as he limped past. Upon entering his dorm, he dematerialized most of his outfit and eased onto his bed. Avalon would- No, no it wouldn't. The relic had abandoned him, he would have to deal with this on his own in a different way.

He needed to find Flat to alleviate some pain and he _really_ needed to speak with Gray and sort the issue with Avalon out. But right now? All he wanted was some sleep after a rough day.

… … …

Getting out of bed the next morning was nearly impossible. Hesitantly looking over his body revealed that he was more bruise than boy and a bright red mark sat at its epicentre in his abdomen. To make matters worse, his torso had swollen due to the displaced bone.

Shirou eventually cleaned and dressed himself, though not without considerable pain. Shambling through the halls of the Clock Tower like a wraith, he reached the El-Melloi office and was greeted with surprise. The one who seemed most surprised was Reines herself. Her skin had gone several shades paler than it was already and the expression of shock held more emotion than he had ever seen.

Flat vaulted over the sofa, moving up to him quickly. "You look like you're one foot in the grave, don't think I've ever seen you this bad." Lifting both hands, Flat mumbled the activation words for his miracle and closed both eyes to concentrate.

"It's unlike you to go looking for fights, were you attacked last night?" The Second Lord El-Melloi stood behind Flat, watching the interaction with crossed arms.

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but caught an icy glare from a petite blonde in the background. "I was jumped by other magi. I have no idea who they might have been but I was able to fend them off."

Making a noise of effort, Flat scrunched up his face. "Something's not right here. I could fix you up pretty easy before. I just visualized the repair and everything seemed to line up but that won't work anymore."

"You were only ever able to heal visible injuries, so this isn't much of a surprise," Waver commented. Shirou hissed a breath out through his teeth. So Avalon had been helping out there as well. Flat had healed every wound at each visit, including internal ones. Since nothing else had changed, Avalon had to be the cause.

"But-"

Flat started to protest but Shirou quickly cut him off. "If that's all you can do it's fine. I appreciate the help." Turning his attention to Gray, the petite woman stiffened under his gaze. "Can I speak with you alone?"

… … …

Trying to explain why he wanted to speak with Gray specifically, in private no less, was equivalent to pulling teeth. He managed to have his request granted even without a good explanation. Shirou had offered to go into whatever backroom awaited beyond the door in the office but had been quickly countered with fierce resistance.

So they took the most private room which was both nearby and unoccupied, Reines' bedroom.

Sitting on one if the bar stools, he watched the small colour-void girl amble around awkwardly before asking what he wanted to speak about.

"To be honest, I don't really know." He reached up to scratch his head but the pain in his torso stopped him short. "Why don't we just start simple. Could you tell me where you're from?"

The girl stiffened, then suddenly looked away so not even the slightest bit of her face could be seen. "My mentor, Lord El-Melloi told me to keep my history as a secret."

Shirou absently rubbed at his torso, gritting his teeth as he thought questions over. They had to be impersonal but relevant to something Avalon would like to know. "What do you know about King Arthur?"

The girl's head snapped around to look at him so quickly, Shirou was surprised when it didn't fly right off her shoulders. "Arthurian legend King Arthur?" He nodded, trying to find a sitting position that wasn't painful. "I know they were an influential person of Britain. That they drew Caliburn, the sword of selection and became something inhuman, the King of Knights."

Shirou specifically noticed Gray's use of " _they_ " instead of a male pronoun as historical text would indicate. It was obvious that the girl knew more than just that. "What about Excalibur and its sheath, Avalon?"

Still getting nothing from the relic embedded within, Gray grew confused. "Avalon? It was said to make the King immortal when in their possession and they perished in the first battle after it was stolen."

Shirou nodded. "Avalon was indeed an artifact of such power. A conceptual weapon on par with divine constructs that was bound to the King and only the King." Shirou stared at what little of her eyes he could see. "So why do you seem to have a connection to it?"

The already pale girl seemed to grow a shade whiter, mouth parting in surprise at the sudden comment. All she could manage was a half-choked "what?"

"You can't tell anyone about this conversation. You and Avalon have a connection of some sort, and it's been causing interference since it first saw you."

"It can see me?" the girl asked, repeating him with a voice full of questions.

Shirou merely nodded, wincing as the act caused some pain. "Yes, and it seems to think that you two have a connection."

Gray turned from confused and quizzitive to hesitant and accusing in a second. "How do you know all of this?"

Contemplating how precisely to word things without revealing himself took a little more than a second. "Avalon was stolen prior to the Battle of Camlann, resulting in the King's death. It was never destroyed and has merely been dormant, waiting for its master who will never return. Through my own ways, I have access to the artifact and can watch it interact with people I come in contact with." Since knowledge of Avalon was nonexistent, he could lie his way through the details and explanations. So long as it sounded convincing enough, she wouldn't know the difference.

Gray seemed to believe him, although he couldn't really tell either way. "You say it reacts to me?" the girl whispered, turning to hide her face. "I have no idea why it would do such a thing." The tone in her voice coupled with the rising blood pressure easily betrayed the lie.

Looking inside himself still revealed nothing. Avalon still hadn't gotten enough to be satisfied, obviously. Times like these, he nearly wished that the phantasm could speak and reveal what it desired. Considering what the artifact was doing, Shirou's best guess was that Avalon believed Gray to be King Arthur. Perhaps the antiquated relic had just lost its sense, but Shirou couldn't see the connection at all.

To make things worse, he couldn't even retrieve the sheath from inside himself because it was no longer visible. It was almost as if someone had stolen it from him in the night, not so much as a trace left behind. At the very least, he could still project it, though would the connection reach the true Avalon?

"Can I trust you never to reveal anything spoken here in this room today?" he asked ominously. He was trapped and Avalon was forcing his hand. He either revealed one of his greatest secrets to someone he hardly knew beyond a name, or he went without one of the most powerful tools in his arsenal.

The two stared at each other for a considerable while before Gray slowly reached up to pull the hood down from her face. Blazing emerald green eyes and pure silver hair revealed themselves once more. "If those are the terms we're agreeing to, I have some secrets of my own to reveal."

… … …

… ... …

Casually opening the door, he stepped inside the small home. It was in a state of complete disarray, with empty takeout containers, empty bottles and worn clothing strewn across every surface. Knowing Bazett as he did, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Things were bound to get this bad eventually, he merely hadn't expected it to take so little time. Half-on and half-off the bed was a blanket-clad lumpy mass that was undoubtedly Bazett.

Sighing, he silently closed the door and removed his shoes before proceeding further inside. Careful to avoid any trash-based landmines along his way, he reached the lumpy blanket before kneeling on the ground with some difficulty. There was still a great amount of pain due to his injuries from last night. Gripping onto what he assumed was her shoulder, he gave her a gentle shake, whispering "Bazett, it's time to wake up."

When she didn't even twitch, he sighed and gripped onto the blanket, yanking it back to reveal a ginger-bearded man who was decidedly _not_ Bazett. Confusion struck his face, but that was nothing compared to the cloud of alcoholic fumes that hit next. Reeling back, Shirou stood and made a noise of disgust.

Through it all, the man remained sleeping. If the number of empty bottles and cans around him were any indication, he wasn't going to wake up for hours still. "Hey kid, what are you doing out here?"

The voice from his side made him instinctively turn to look. What graced his eyes certainly was Bazett, but in a condition far from what he expected. The area from her chest to mid-tight was covered in a burgundy towel that matched her hair and eyes. In her hands, drying her still-wet hair, was a smaller towel of similar design. These towels were the only pieces of "clothing" preserving her modesty. Quickly averting his eyes, Shirou awkwardly looked off in the opposite direction, trying to purge the sight from his mind.

"Don't you have any sense of decency?" he asked, getting nothing more than a snort in response.

"You look around and see this mess, find a drunken stranger in my bed and still expect me to have _decency_? Don't know whether you're clueless or just naive." The sound of damp feet led deeper into the room, followed by the opening of a fridge and the clatter of bottles.

"I just had higher expectations. Is this your idea of _lying low_?" he questioned, still avoiding her by keeping his back to her general direction. The sound of an opening bottle preceded an audible gulp and noise of satisfaction.

"This is what I like to call stress relief. For the record, I _was_ lying low by doing my job. While you were hitting on every woman you should be avoiding in the Clock Tower, I handled a designate and ran some courier work for Lord El-Melloi." There was a pause as she took a drink. "Which reminds me, shouldn't you be trying to stay as far away as possible from someone like Reines?"

Shirou sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his nose. "The old man told me to stay away from the Edelfelt family and to keep my nose out of trouble. Of course it's my luck that I run straight into both."

Bazett chuckled through the nose while taking another drink. "While Reines seems interested, we're lucky in that Lorelei wants nothing to do with you. No idea what you've done to turn her away, but good job on doing it. She's the last person in the entire world that we want snooping around. Neither of them have thrown any orders at you either, so things can't be too bad."

Shirou chuckled dryly, admiring the bland wall since he couldn't look Bazett in the eyes. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"I don't like the sound of that. What have you done, or what is it that you're roped into doing?"

Looking down at himself, he realized that his body was favouring one side. It had likely been done on instinct to minimize the pain. "Last night, Reines sent me on a mission to silence an informant that had something on her." Judging by her silence, he suspected she was waiting for him to continue. "I went, of course. She used a good friend of mine as a bargaining piece so I couldn't refuse…"

Shirou described the night, including his near defeat at the hands of a genuine executioner and the information gathered through their conversation. After it was finished, Bazett let out a lengthy sigh. "Sounds like you're down shit creek without a canoe."

He made a dry, snorting chuckle at his own expense. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I haven't explained anything to Reines yet but she'll be expecting me to and when that time comes, I don't know if I'll be able to lie my way out."

A thoughtful hum came before another sip. "You're a pretty poor liar for sure. Someone like her will see right through you." More silence as the two thought the situation over. "Have you considered cutting your losses and going back home?"

Taking time to mull the option over, he had to admit that it didn't seem to be the worst idea. Since he couldn't really learn any of the magecraft being taught beyond theory, classes were effectively useless. Alteration and Creation were the only classes that gave him a tangible advantage and even those fields had taught him everything they could. If he wanted to progress any further, he would have to continue researching on his own. The only major benefit from attending the Clock Tower had been an upgrade to his armoury from the Tournament, and with that over there wasn't much holding him in London.

Before he could answer, Bazett added on. "If you want to leave, I'll need some time to prepare. You won't be able to take off so quickly without someone going looking so we'll have to make _Blade_ disappear if you catch my drift."

Scowling at the prospect, he moved his eyes to peer in the direction of her voice. "You want to fake my death," he summarized.

"People typically don't go looking for dead men," Bazett pointed out, spouting logic he couldn't argue with.

"How long would you need?"

"Depends on how long it takes for my contacts to get back to me. I'll see if we can make a convincing dummy but if I don't hear anything by tomorrow, we'll have to do things the hard way." The clatter of an empty bottle rang through the housing, eliciting a wince as Shirou thought of more trash being deposited in an already messy house.

The urge to clean was great but the pain in his body and his attention to the conversation was stronger. "You get on that. I'll try to stall with Reines as much as I can and finish up everything here before I have to go." A point of pressure struck him suddenly and he hesitantly raised one hand to press against his lower rib cage, an attempt at calming the sensation.

"Show up tomorrow afternoon. Whichever way things go, we'll make up a plan." He made a pronounced nod, turning to face the door only to be stopped as she called out to him. "Call your dad too, let him know what's going on and see if he has any suggestions."

… … …

… … …

The call to Kiritsugu had gone as well as could be expected. They had vaguely greeted each other with cold detachment, but that was mostly to preserve their identities should anyone be listening in. While unlikely for a magus to tap into their phones, the possibility still existed.

The old man had sided with Shirou, agreeing that he should return home before he wouldn't be able to. Kiritsugu had been decidedly less than happy about his revealing of a very important tool but eventually settled after considering that Shirou wouldn't have done such a thing without a good reason.

Something worthwhile that had come out of the entire exchange was the knowledge that Avalon was linked to all projected copies. The original and the copies communicated somehow, because as soon as Gray laid her hands on a projected copy of Avalon, the true artifact inside him came alive. In the end, Shirou was just happy that Avalon had decided to work together with him again. Closing his eyes reassured him that the golden glow had fully returned. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he could have sworn that the rate of healing was halved.

Shirou spent most of his day in Hyde Park, moving around without his _Blade_ outfit. Wearing casual clothes, he slipped on a projected hat and glasses and enjoyed an overcast day all by himself. The moment alone gave him time to grow accustomed to his decision. He would be leaving his friends in the Tower behind and would be squandering an opportunity to be a student of Waver's.

At least he wouldn't have to wear that stuffy scarf anymore. Breathing through that thing all day every day was remarkably uncomfortable.

It was unfortunate that he had to leave his friends so abruptly, but it was a mandatory decision needed to protect himself. To make things worse, he couldn't explain himself or even speak with any of them since there was a chance they could disrupt Bazett's plan.

As scheduled, Shirou arrived at Bazett's house five minutes before midnight where she revealed that her contact had come through. From what Shirou could pick up during her rapid explanation, a specific type of familiar known as a _puppet_ would take his form and be a perfect doppelganger. After that, the copy of him would walk into a public area and meet an unfortunate end to a runic landmine established by Bazett herself.

With alterations to make the puppet more destructive, only scraps of clothing would remain, leaving nothing to discover or trace back. The public setting would eliminate any question regarding authenticity and sensible people would assume Blade's mysterious past had merely caught up to him.

It wasn't an overly complex plan, but it would serve its purpose and get him back to Fuyuki. Just as they had arrived, he would be returning by plane, another red-eye midnight flight that was only eased by the luxuries afforded by a private jet.

Leaving most of his clothes and belongings behind to make his "death" more believable, he didn't even have much to pack. He had been instructed to wait in Bazett's house until they could leave together. As there was nothing for him to do, what was supposed to be a quick couple of hours felt more like an eternity.

After a long while of entertaining himself by studying his own magecraft, Bazett returned. She casually threw a single bag over her shoulder and motioned for them to leave. "Say goodbye to Britain kid, cause I don't think you're going to be back for a good while."

… … …

"Have you seen Blade anywhere?" Luvia asked, peering into Svin's eyes and Lectra did the same to Flat. The two gave each other an awkward glance before shrugging almost in unison.

Lectra piped up, nearly standing on her tiptoes to be eye-level to Flat. "We're worried about him. We haven't seen him in two days. It's like he's been avoiding us for some reason."

Reaching up to his head, he made a grimace with his mouth. "Oh sorry, I forgot to tell you. He was in the El-Melloi office yesterday but he was pretty banged up. He spoke with Gray in private and then came back so I could try healing him again," Flat recounted, looking up to the left as if searching his brain.

"Hey, wait a second," Svin piped up, giving his friend a glare. "Don't you think it was kind of strange how you couldn't fix him to start, but after he came back with Gray everything went fine?"

The boy hummed, looking at his friend with troubled thoughts. "I didn't really consider it then, but now that you mention it, my magecraft seemed to change how it worked before and after their talk. I just chalked it up to me putting in more effort but..." he trailed off, looking behind himself as if expecting someone to be there.

"So Gray was the last person to speak with him?" Lectra concluded, getting half-hearted nods from the two boys. "Do you know where she is?"

"I think she said that she wanted to get some fresh air outside this morning. We can go have a look on the quad but if she's not there, I wouldn't know where else to look." Turning, Flat started walking at a brisk pace and the other three struggled to keep up. It didn't take too long for the small group to make their way out into the quad, where the warm noonday sun beamed down onto the grass and concrete.

Panning around the quad, it didn't take too long to identify a small figure wearing nothing but black and gray standing out amidst a sea of colourful attire. Alerting everyone to her location, Flat jogged over and greeted the girl.

"Does Lord El-Melloi want me for something?" she asked, looking between all four people now suddenly surrounding her.

"We need you for something," Luvia corrected, crossing both arms over her chest. Lectra gave the blonde a strange look, curious as to why she was acting so aggressive. "Nobody has seen Blade all day and Flat says you're the last person to have spoken with him."

Gray winced at the mention of _Blade_ , looking down toward the side. In a calm, demure voice she replied, "We spoke, yes."

A silence filled only by a light breeze settled in before Svin impatiently asked if that was all. Gray shook her head, looking at Flat directly, rather than anyone else. "He told me that-" the girl stopped abruptly, eyes flickering before she resumed her train of thought. "It doesn't matter what he told me, but he was acting strange."

Luvia sighed. "Looks like we're all useless then."

Gray's head snapped to look off in the distance behind the group ahead of her, pointing toward what she had spotted. "Isn't that him right there?"

Four heads turned simultaneously, locking onto the sight of a tall man in black and crimson. The outfit and bright orange eyes were unmistakable. He was walking across the grass of the quad, ignorant to the five people all searching for him a short distance away.

Lectra hopped forward, extending her hand high and offering a wave. "Blade, hey Blade, over here!" she shouted, a bright smile on her face.

The boy in question turned his head but continued walking forward. The creases at his eyes revealed he was smiling, and he lifted his own hand somewhat to return the wave.

Flat made an appreciative hum. "Looks fine to m-"

Faster than a blink, an explosion spawned beneath the boy and a massive echoing boom precluded a percussive wave. The impact of the air was enough to send the entire unprepared group onto their backs, leaving them sprawling on the grass trying to determine what had just happened.

There was a cry of pain, intense heat and the crackle of ambient mana. As everyone tried to locate the source of the attack, they focused on what was left of the quad.

The blast had unearthed a significant portion of the area, throwing mud, clay and turf in every direction. A large six-foot wide crater was all that remained. Details and events were slowly recounted. Flat and Luvia quickly acted to verify that everyone around them was in good condition. Once a quick check had been established, the group collectively remembered who had been at the center of the blast.

Besides a single person making soft noises of pain, the area was deathly quiet. Without wind or wildlife noise, it was as if nature didn't want to disturb the scene. The silence allowed everyone present to hear a soft _whump_ from the side. Looking to see the origin, Lectra spotted a singed, hole-filled crimson scarf.

… … …

… … ...

It was in the middle of the afternoon when they arrived in Fuyuki. The fourteen-hour flight and eight-hour time difference meant that their arrival and departure time was about the same, only they were one full day ahead. Shirou had successfully mitigated some of the jet lag by tactically sleeping on the plane. While his sleep schedule would still be in disarray, it wouldn't be a total train wreck.

They had been driven home by a strange man, who Shirou could only assume was hired by Kiritsugu. Bazett had walked into the house first, leaving Shirou to collect what little he had packed. Setting his bags outside the door so he could open it, he casually threw it open only to hear his name being cried out and for a white projectile to slam into his chest at high speed.

The weight and velocity easily toppled him over, sending the two crashing back-first onto the ground outside the door. Stabbing pain from his half-healed ribs returned at full force as the projectile weighed down on his abdomen and he had to struggle not to make a noise of pain. As the agony subsided over a few seconds, he realized that there were hands on his cheeks and a face dangerously close to his own. "Shirou!"

Bright crimson eyes beamed into his and immediately a sense of happiness welled up inside. With a laugh, he wrapped both arms around the small girl and gave her a tight hug. "Seems like you missed me."

"Without you here, everything is so _boring_. Nobody wants to play and I've got nothing to do," she pouted with her face pressed against his chest.

Releasing the girl, she sat upright and beamed down at his confused face. "Why didn't you play with Rin? I thought you two were friends."

Illya pouted, looking off in the direction of the Tohsaka manor. If you knew where to look, you could almost see the top due to their difference in elevation. "Rin doesn't like to come over if you're not here. I've only seen her one time and that was to drop something off."

Shirou furrowed his brow. "Drop something off?" Realizing that he was jumping too far into what had happened in his absence, he gave his head a small shake and returned to smiling. "Don't worry about that, I'll figure it out later." Motioning for Illya to get off, he stood and patted the top of her head. He tried to collect his bags but Illya rapidly snatched one and hauled it inside, having to use both arms to lift it over her head.

"Hey, why did you get your hair cut?" Illya asked, struggling to walk to the end of the hall.

Looking upward as if he could see, he laughed in spite of himself. "It's a long story." Deciding to leave it at that, Shirou carried on behind Illya toward his room where he deposited his bags and unpacked the contents.

After settling down from his trip, Shirou practically leapt at the chance to make an early dinner. The last meal he had cooked had been before he'd left Fuyuki and he had been yearning to work over a hot stove ever since. Eating at the table as a family - Bazett included - Kiritsugu filled him in on what little had transpired. The only major points of note were Missy's developments and Rin dropping off a peculiar, antique box.

Deciding to ask her about it tomorrow, he began the lengthy retelling of his adventures in Britain, describing the classes, his group of friends and the Tournament, as well as his public defeat of Bazett, who merely scoffed and took on another helping. "The only redeeming part of this contract is the food."

Kiritsugu laughed, picking away at the last bites of food in front of him. "Be honest, McRemitz, you've enjoyed yourself, haven't you?"

The two stared at one another for a moment before Bazett smirked. "It's been interesting. Shirou has the unique skill of finding trouble wherever he goes. It's stretched the skills I have outside of combat to their limit, but it's reminded me to constantly be on my toes." The woman shrugged, popping some rice into her mouth. "The money's good too." Suddenly, as if he had reminded herself, her head snapped toward Shirou. "Speaking of, you think I could get that five grand back? I'm running a little short."

Shirou shook his head calmly, focusing on a piece of tonkatsu while Bazett murdered him with her eyes. "While I wasn't gone for a very long time, it's still nice to be back."

"Since you're back, I imagine Rin and Sakura would like to see you. Should I give them a call?" Illya glanced toward her smiling father's face and gained a mischievous look herself, snickering quietly.

In Britain, Shirou had thought about seeing Rin again quite often. Her name popped into his head whenever he had to remind himself of " _Clock Tower etiquette_ ". Now that he was back in Japan, there was a possibility of actually seeing her. A feeling of anxiousness came around, and the memory of what happened when he left clouded his judgement.

He liked Rin of course. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman who was as wise, if not wiser than he was.

But if he let himself fall for her fully, he would be abandoning Sakura. He could see how much the Matou idolized him. He was her last shred of hope in a hellish excuse of a life.

So he couldn't choose either one.

Scratching the back of his neck, Shirou feigned a yawn. "I don't think so. I'm still pretty tired from the flight."

Illya narrowed her eyes and immediately he realized his mistake. "He's lying, he's not tired at all."

Cursing in his own mind, he tried to pass his guilt off with a chuckle. He was already so used to having his face concealed and being able to lie. He briefly considered trying to continue with his lie but quickly realized that Illya would see through it just as easily. "Fine, you got me. But I'd really prefer if it waited until tomorrow."

… … …

… … …

Unfortunately, "tomorrow" came too quickly. Before he knew it, he was being dragged by the hand by Illya, who vehemently stated he _needed_ to see Rin.

Regardless of what he said, the petite albino seemed hell-bent on getting the two together.

Knocking on the door like she meant to break it, the two waited until Aoi gingerly opened it to greet them with a soft, sad smile. "Hello, isn't this a surprise." She looked from Illya to Shirou, smile widening greatly. "Welcome back to Japan, Shirou. How was Britain?"

Blinking in surprise, he remembered that Aoi was a magus herself. "It was very helpful, I met some interesting peo-"

Jumping up, his sister swatted him on the nose before waving a finger at him. "We aren't here for that, remember?" Turning to face Aoi, the girl returned a bright smile. "Sorry Mrs. Tohsaka, but I'm on a mission to lead Shirou to Rin, is she home?"

Beyond Illya's back, Shirou violently shook his head, mouthing "no" in an attempt at getting Aoi to turn them away.

The woman visibly looked from Illya to Shirou and back again before nodding softly. "I believe she's in the study. Just let her know you're here before going down." Stepping aside, the woman motioned for the two to enter and Illya gladly took the offer. The girl paused only once so they could remove their shoes before proceeding further in.

Like she owned the manor itself, Illya confidently strode toward a door nestled within the large staircase leading to the second floor. Knocking on it loudly, Illya cracked the door open and shouted inside. "Rin, I've got a surprise for you!"

There was a strange noise coming from inside, before an incredibly irritated Tohsaka shouted back up. "What are you doing at my house, Illya? I'm a little busy down here."

Shirou briefly thought he heard another voice whisper from the lower level, but with the strange angle and his head clouded with worry, he wasn't too sure.

Illya giggled, opening the door wider. "Well, I've got a surprise for you. _Shirou_ is back, and I've got him here with me."

Clear as day, Shirou heard two separate voices shout his name with varying states of excitement. Suddenly, there was a gasp and Tohsaka's voice returned with panic. "Wait, Sakura you're moving too much!"

Her cry was all the warning gathered before an explosion sounded from within. The force of the unseen blast was enough to shake the entire manor and send a wave of smoke up the dimly lit staircase.

The two girls screamed in near harmony and Shirou couldn't stop instinct from sending his body lunging past Illya. Bounding down the stairs three at a time, he reached the bottom to find two familiar girls seated on their rears. They were covered in soot, and parts of their attire were smouldering or blown away entirely.

Between them was a device Shirou had never seen before. Several glass funnels suspended over a glass orb, linked with flexible tubing that could be adjusted to manipulate the rate of flow. All of this was suspended above a stone tablet with a particularly large crystal which illuminated the room in royal blue light.

At least, that's what he _would_ have seen, if the explosion hadn't destroyed everything. It was only due to how recent the explosion was that he was able to see the completed image in his mind through tracing.

What actually remained was a twisted mess of metal beams used to suspend the earlier craft and a surprising amount of glass littered throughout the entire workshop.

Rin made a growl, rubbing her head as a trickle of blood streamed from the other side where a small piece of glass had embedded itself. A large portion of her clothes had been burnt or torn off and multiple lacerations covered her hands. "I told you this was a delicate process, you have to _gently_ stimulate the essence."

Sakura seemed to be in much better condition, with only the shoulder of her dress missing and no visible wounds. "I'm sorry Rin, I just got excited." Sakura lifted her head but after spotting Shirou, she quickly turned away.

Scowling partly in confusion at the reaction, he decided to treat the injured party first, casually moving toward Rin and kneeling down to her level. "Not even a hello?"

Rin stared in him the eyes for a moment before making a haughty huff and turning away. "Since you distracted Sakura, I should really be blaming you for all this," she looked back at him, face softening somewhat. "But it's nice to see you again, my clueless test subject."

Nodding, he plucked the piece of glass from her head and projected a rag to apply pressure to the wound and soak up the blood. "I'm just surprised you didn't-"

"What's up with the hair?"

"-ask about my hair," he finished, letting out an exasperated breath. Rather than try to explain that an aristocrat in the Clock Tower had her eyes set on him and forced him to get a haircut, he went with the much simpler, "I just decided to get it cut."

"You took my idea and tried to mix alchemy and gem magecraft?" Illya asked softly, plodding down the stairs. "Did it work?"

Rin turned from Illya to glare at Sakura, who had already stood and was in the midst of grabbing a broom to clean up all the glass. "I think so, but I'll need to test it again before I can be sure."

Turning back to Shirou, Rin looked a little more pleased. "I thought you weren't coming back until the end of next week."

"I had to leave early, too dangerous to stay," he summarized, withdrawing his hand to see if her injury was still bleeding.

"You'll have to tell me all about it later. For now, we should get something over with here and now." Slipping her hand under his to keep the rag on her head, the girl stood with his help and caught Sakura's attention.

Seeming to understand, the girl stood beside Rin and sheepishly looked at Shirou's feet. The Tohsaka had gained a blush even before speaking a word, but her voice remained confident as she spoke. "Shirou, Sakura and I have considered our relationship and we've decided as sisters." Rin gripped Sakura's hand, lacing their fingers together and producing an uneasy squeak from the girl.

Looking up at Shirou with a face as red as Rin's shirt, Sakura managed to speak. "We're going to share Senpai so he doesn't have to choose."

* * *

 **Shirou back to Japan and we finally get to see the realization of the agreement the two Tohsaka girls made before everything got complicated. At least he doesn't have to choose one or the other anymore!**

 **I appreciate everyone leaving reviews, you tell me what you like to see and for the things that I can change, (points of view, information being told) I can change them to provide the best experience. (Unfortunately, the plot in my mind isn't going to change, so you're at my mercy there, heh.)**

 **That's all from me, remember to favourite, follow and leave a review, kind or otherwise I'm always eager to see what all of you think!**


	20. Home Sweet Home

**EDIT:** **& is a weird symbol that we've started using. Did you know there are many ways to write "and"? Beyond &, you can also use a three with a small vertical line above and below to indicate the same thing. It's useful to know because drawing the ampersand is a little hard to get right.**

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 _ **SMALL UPDATE:**_ **I have a strawpoll that has a few options of ideas which are rolling around in my mind. Would appreciate it if you all went and voted so I could see what the people might want from me.**

www .strawpoll .me/18129592

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 **Howdy, everyone! Alright, alright. I know I _said_ writing was coming easier, but it is - trust me. While it might not seem like it with the delay, it was because much of my time was occupied with various such and such. When I could write, I got a lot done!**

 **That was all I had to say. Quick shoutout to RandomCraziness for the500th follow! That's a real milestone in this fic, hope you all can find happiness in other's enjoyment, as I do.**

 **Remember to thank my beta, Talndir! He's been with me through thick and thin across twelve whole chapters now.**

* * *

Shirou let out a great sigh, pausing to sit on a chair for a brief rest. Letting the mop in his hand rest upon one shoulder, he tried to will away the heat in his core. Before he even noticed another presence nearby, a cup of ice water was thrust into view.

"I appreciate you coming in, Emiyan, but you really shouldn't work so hard." Following the glass back to its holder, he found the warm face of his boss, Neko.

He broke into a smile, accepting the water and taking a sip to calm his warm body. "Don't worry about it. You were short-handed and I was free."

Neko made a noise of astonishment. "Just because I was short and you were open doesn't mean you should leap at the chance to take on the work of five people."

He shrugged. He enjoyed being able to help out wherever he could, so a situation like this was actually welcomed. "Someone had to do it, might as well have been me."

Sighing, Neko took a few steps back to settle against the bar counter. "Well, at least Taiga isn't wearing off on you. Keep away from that woman, Emiyan. She's bad business in all senses of the word. Have I ever told you about the time she was so drunk that she danced on top of the counter?"

Shirou retained his smile, bringing the glass near to his lips. "Only every other time Taiga is brought up."

Neko's lip quivered. "In that case, I must sound like a broken record." Reaching over the counter, the woman picked up a blank white envelope with his name - or rather, his nickname - handwritten on the face. Thrusting it in his direction, Shirou couldn't help but trace the contents. Inside was a hefty sum, sixty thousand yen to be precise. The gesture had come out of nowhere and he couldn't help but stumble over its sporadic nature.

He set his glass on a nearby table, standing only to gently push the envelope back toward the woman. "I appreciate it, but I don't really need the money. I'd prefer if you kept it."

The statement seemed to confuse Neko and her face split to match her emotion. "If you don't need the money, then why do you even come to work?"

Smiling a little wider, he turned and grabbed onto his coat. "It's just something I like doing."

… … …

The winter in Fuyuki that year was uncommonly hellish. It featured record amounts of snow and temperatures that blew historical temperatures out of the water. Shirou had to upgrade his coat twice and even with the heaviest one he could find, he still got a chill walking from work and home.

Yanking the collar around his neck to preserve some warmth, Shirou closed the door to the Copenhagen and turned to face the direction of his home. It was snowing again, and the cold moonless night brought on an icy fog.

The smell of a winter's night was always so inhospitable. With spring, summer and fall, the gentle fresh scents of nature could easily be detected. With winter, the only smell was _cold_. It was undoubtedly his most disliked season.

Trudging through the freshly laden snow on the sidewalk, he retraced the familiar path back home. He was supposed to make nabemono when he returned and if he kept Illya waiting any longer, he would be tied down to the house and forced into cooking for them more than he already was.

Normally Missy would take after him in the kitchen when he couldn't be there due to work, but lately she had been leaving with Kiritsugu for extended periods of time. Try as he might, the old man wouldn't tell him _why. I_ nstead, he merely passed it off as something that needed to be done.

Shirou stuffed both hands into the pockets of his coat, shivering as the outside air got to him. A thought regarding Illya brought a brief laugh to his mouth. No matter how often others around her complained about the weather, she constantly passed it off as "not that cold" and "nowhere near as bad as Germany". It was cute how a girl as white as the snow could find such enjoyment in the stuff.

A gust of wind blew flecks of snow into his face and caught the edges of his scarf, sending the ends flapping behind his back. Ducking his head down to keep the wind off his face, he stumbled over a hard patch of snow.

With his head down, he didn't see the small woman walking toward him and his stumbling gait sent him slamming into her. His weight and size sent her onto her back though she didn't make noise despite the obvious painful motion. Apologizing for his clumsiness, Shirou extended a hand to help her up, lifting the feather-weight girl back onto her feet with ease. She was clad in a large navy blue dress that extended down to her ankles. It was made of heavy material and was accented by something in white beneath. It was vaguely familiar, but it was something he had probably caught on television rather than in person.

She was coated in fresh, wet snow from head to toe and Shirou could only imagine that she was freezing. A beret-like navy hat sat crooked over her light gray hair. Her head was pointed in his direction, but it refused to look upward, leaving her golden eyes staring at his abdomen. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she spoke, voice hardly audible over the wind.

"No it's my fault, I should have been watching ahead of myself," Shirou awkwardly laughed, curious as to why the girl neglected to brush herself off. She looked quite young, but after living with a girl who was _older_ than him with the appearance of a thirteen-year-old, his abilities at age estimation were distorted. A quick trace revealed that her appearance didn't lie. She was twelve years old. So then what was she doing all alone in the middle of a snowstorm? The trace also showed that she was in surprisingly good shape but that was hardly the most astounding feature.

The girl was covered in bandages. More than half of her entire body was wrapped tightly in cloth bandages like a mummy. The discovery made his mind stumble, but it hardly mattered because the girl said nothing in response. She remained stock still ahead of him like her body had shut down. He realized it wasn't the case when she shuffled in place and lifted her head partly, revealing a bright red nose and cheeks to match. "Do you know the way back to Fuyuki Church? I think I'm lost."

Shirou gaped. Fuyuki Church was over an hour's walk away. " _A little lost_ " was an understatement, though, with the blizzard-like conditions and her age, it wasn't much of a surprise. Shirou turned his gape to a smile so that the girl wouldn't adopt his concern. "You're pretty far away, in the middle of Miyama actually." The girl's already pale face turned a few shades whiter. "But don't worry, this storm should end soon!" To try and break the tension, he looked toward his right through the window of a nearby shop.

Behind the glass were television screens tuned to the news. It just so happened to be showcasing the weather and near the bottom in bright, flashing red were the words: "Severe storm likely to continue for the next few days".

Turning back to the girl, he watched her turn back as well. So she had seen the exact same thing he did. Deciding not to lie, he told her outright. "I don't think you'll be able to make it back to the church today." The girl shivered, reinforcing his point. "Did you lose your guardian?" The girl shook her head. So she was really alone? All the more reason for him to help out. "I think it might be best if you waited out this storm somewhere warm and tried to make your way back tomorrow morning. Is there anywhere nearby you can stay?"

The girl shook her head, looking up at his eyes with an eerily hollow look. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite place it for sure. "My only home is the church."

Shirou squinted as a gust of wind blew snow into his face. So Kiritsugu had really done it then. This was the girl who replaced Risei? Looking behind the girl in the direction of the church, he spotted nothing but thick white fog between steadily falling snow. Suddenly kneeling down to her level, he looked her over for a moment. "I'm Shirou Emiya, what's your name?"

The girl flinched visibly, hesitating for a moment. "Caren Hortensia."

He smiled softly. "I know I'm just a stranger to you and this might sound rude, but would you like to stay at my house? We've got plenty of room and you'll have a warm bed to sleep in for tonight." He omitted the part in his mind that hoped it would actually be over by then.

The girl shook her head. "I couldn't-"

Scowling at her stubbornness, a minor part of his mind told him that she wasn't worth the time. "Well, I don't want you to freeze. If you don't want to stay at my place, I'll follow you to make sure you get somewhere safe, is that alright?"

There was a moment of hesitation from the girl that included a harsh shiver. A trace allowed him to watch her body's temperature decrease by a decimal. Another gust of wind sent her teetering forward, brushing some of the clinging snow from her robes at the very least. Shutting her eyes tight, he watched the girl suck in a deep breath. "Please allow me to stay in your home."

… … …

… … …

The past months had been a whirlwind of events. Two weeks after Shirou's return from the Clock Tower, Bazett had cancelled her contract with Kiritsugu. She never fully explained her reasoning, but Kiritsugu had allowed her to go without worry regardless.

Without his sparring partner, Shirou was on a desperate search for someone near the enforcer's ability, something hard to find in a normal person. Reikan, Issei's older brother, had martial arts experience, but his knowledge was focused on form and tradition, things Shirou cared little about.

According to Issei, the new social studies teacher, Souichirou Kuzuki, had been able to best Reikan with ease, but Shirou had yet to even see the man in person.

Another startling development had to do with Sakura. Shortly after Bazett left, Sakura decided to take her place. It was concerning to Shirou that a girl his age who was unrelated to him was sleeping in the same house, but after considering the fact that it would get her out of the Matou mansion, he felt marginally better.

It had happened with consent, but not Shirou's. Kiritsugu had been the main driving force, practically forcing her to accept his hospitality and going so far as to help her move in. Decisions and actions like that made Shirou wonder how much was going on behind his back. Rin hadn't been happy about the discovery either, but when Sakura mumbled something about a kiss, the Tohsaka clammed up.

At the very least, Sakura hadn't _fully_ moved in. She had moved a considerable amount of personal items into one of the large western-styled rooms but she still had to return to the Matou manor at least twice a week. Today had been one of those days, though if the storm held up throughout tomorrow, it would be unlikely for her to visit.

Stepping inside his home, Caren followed behind and calmly removed her out of place rugged lace-up boots. She was shivering sporadically at this point. The fifteen-minute trek through the snow while wet likely had not done her any favours.

Watching her as he removed his own outdoor clothing, he stepped up from the genkan and motioned further into the house. "Let me show you the bathroom, you can change out of those wet clothes and take a hot bath."

"You have a large house," she stated blandly. It was more an acknowledgement of a fact than something of wonderment. "I like it."

The sound of heavy footsteps at the end of the hall was all the warning he got before a very enraged looking Taiga came into view. "Shirou, where hav-" Her outburst abruptly stopped as her eyes landed on the dripping wet, miniature priestess standing at his side. There was an ominous glint in the teachers' eyes and Shirou could already see what she was thinking. " _This_ is why you're so late?"

"Taiga, it's not what i-"

"The minute Kiritsugu is out on business, you bring irresistible underage girls to the house." Spreading her legs into a wide stance, she flamboyantly pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "Shame on you Shirou! It's a good thing this snowstorm trapped me here otherwise I wouldn't be able to witness your sins!"

Rolling his eyes, he glowered at Taiga with deadly seriousness. "I'm helping her, she got lost in the blizzard."

Before Taiga could open her mouth, the girl stood up for herself. "He's telling the truth. I wasn't paying attention to the weather and got caught in the storm. I hope I won't be a burden on you and your son if I stay overnight." The girl bowed formally, dripping water onto the floor.

Shirou rapidly smacked the top of his head. "Why did you call me her son?" he groaned.

Taiga, on the other hand, had gained a thousand-yard stare, mouth parted and body going partly limp. "If I were Shirou's mother, I'd be Kiritsugu's wife," she murmured dreamily, smiling like a woman possessed.

Looking between Taiga and Shirou, Caren seemed confused. "Have I done something wrong?"

Shirou shook his head. It wasn't her fault that every woman in his life was insane. "No, you haven't, but let's move past while she's distracted."

Striding down the hall, he motioned for her to follow. After leading her to the bathroom, he closed the door and breathed out a sigh. "What's this I hear about an irresistible underage girl?" From his left came the eerily chipper voice of his sister.

He turned to face Illya with a glare. "Don't go making any assumptions. I'm just helping her out, she'll be staying in her own separate bedroom for as long as this storm lasts, nothing more."

Illya blinked before smirking wildly. "I wasn't making any assumptions, you already have girls hanging off you at every moment, why would you need another?"

"That's exactly rig- Hey!"

The girl giggled, span around on her heel and gave the still frozen Taiga an off look before prancing back to the kitchen. "Start dinner soon, everyone is really hungry!"

… … …

After her time in the bathroom, Caren quietly shuffled into the dining room, likely attracted by the enticing scent of Shirou's cooking. Since all of the prep work had been done that morning, it was merely a matter of creating a broth and moving everything to the table. In under an hour, everyone was enjoying the dish and the reserved priestess had come out of her shell, albeit only to devour more food. For a girl that was so small, she ate nearly as much as Taiga, which was a feat to be sure. Just as usual, when the pace of eating slowed, conversation took its place.

Taiga peered down at the priestess with a warm smile. She was wearing one of Illya's yukata, a lavishly decorated bright pink one that fit her surprisingly well. Her pale gray hair had been tied up by Illya to keep the wet ends from landing on the robe. "So what might your name be? Shirou doesn't have the manners to introduce us."

With his mouth full of duck and greens, he wasn't in a place to argue. Taiga had risen a good point at least. In his rush to be accommodating and make dinner, he had forgotten to introduce everyone. The girl introduced herself in the same shy fashion that she had on the street, getting a noise of adoration from the teacher. "What a cute name!" She paused, then pouted like a child. "But I've never heard of it before and I know all the students in Fuyuki."

"I'm not in school," came the girl's simple explanation. "I'm undertaking a homeschooling program."

Taiga's pout grew in intensity. "But that means I won't get to teach you important life skills like-"

"How some sharks die if they stop swimming?" Shirou interrupted dryly.

"Or that it takes twenty-three minutes, forty-nine and a half seconds to get from your house to the school?" Illya continued.

The Emiya snorted, smirking as they made their teacher look worse by the minute. "What about how the vending machine in the school gives you a discount if you use only quarters?"

Looking down, the teacher very quietly claimed that those _were_ all important skills. With a laugh, Shirou finished what remained in his bowl, finishing last as always. He stood slowly and gently began tidying up the table.

For the first time in his entire life, Illya stood beside him and _helped_. The act was so unnatural that it had caught him entirely by surprise and his brain needed a moment to reboot.

Assuming that she was finally taking on a sense of responsibility, he couldn't help but smile and he lovingly patted the top of her head. "Thanks, Illya. I could use some help washing dishes too."

He had expected a no, but the girl nodded underneath his hand. "Sure thing, thank you for cooking tonight." The girl carried a load of dishes over to the kitchen, leaving behind an astonished Shirou who was contemplating whether he was in the same dimension or not.

… … …

… … …

Staring at the ceiling, the only sound that reached him was the wind battering the house outside and the soft, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping homunculus.

He had woken up in the middle of the night again, something that he had grown used to with how frequently it occurred. He had a dream, but it was another infuriating one where the memories of it and the previous dreams faded away like water down a drain.

Turning his head, Illya's sleeping face came into view. Ever since the night he had come home after fighting the freelancers, she had slept right beside him in his own room. The thought of sleeping with a girl in the same room as him had always been concerning, more so when the beds were tucked together. But Illya was family, so the thought wasn't as disturbing, though there were moments when-

Turning his head to face the ceiling, he took a deep breath. Being a teenager put all sorts of disturbing thoughts in his mind. His mind grossed himself out at times, he could only imagine what others would think if he let those thoughts be known.

Opening his eyes and letting out a sigh, his mind emptied and the gentle breathing from beside him returned to the forefront of his mind. It had been months ago, but the memories of the Clock Tower still came back to haunt him on occasion. Magi looking at him as if he were the Grim Reaper, Kain begging for his life in the tournament and his brutal murder of Kiera.

Maybe he really was a monster.

But at least he would protect the ones close to him.

Sitting upright in bed slowly, he glimpsed inside his own mind for the most familiar part of himself. Whispering "trace on" to the darkness, the hammer of a gun fired off in his mind and he began whispering his full tracing aria. Normally he could forgo the process of chanting all seven lines of his tracing process, but for this projection he needed the longevity, he needed it to last long enough to make a difference.

Within a minute, Shirou opened his eyes to the gently gleaming sheath of Excalibur, Avalon, resting in his hands. Tracing its construction and comparing it to the original embedded within his body, he couldn't find a single difference. Even Gaia seemed to have a hard time differentiating between them.

After watching his projections dematerialize naturally through the force of Gaia, Shirou could accurately determine a "percentage of life remaining" for each of his projections. Normally, something incredibly rare like Avalon began degrading rapidly at the rate of one percent every ten minutes. With his full aria refining the process, it had been extended to one percent every half hour.

The only downside was that it had chewed through a little over half his available mana for a single copy. It was fine, he could regenerate what was lost with time so long as the sheath worked as he wanted it to.

Shuffling beneath the covers of his futon, he faced Illya and gently brought the sheath to her chest. When it did nothing, he tried an application of mana to the craft, marvelling as it seemed to phase inside of her form, becoming undetectable to the eye.

Running a trace of her to make sure it had worked, he found the sheath within immediately. While he wasn't able to tell if it was halting the degradation of her organs yet, he silently hoped that it would.

Shuffling in his futon to lie back down, he returned to staring at the ceiling. He wasn't a complete monster, just a monster to some - just like his old man.

… … …

… … …

In the midst of a yawn, Shirou flipped over the two pieces of bread in his pan, revealing the well-toasted side. Reaching toward a bag on his right, he retrieved a pinch of sugar and sprinkled the revealed sides.

The door behind him slid open and gentle patter of feet on tatami alerted him to someone entering the dining room. Without looking over his shoulder, he assumed it to be Illya. The impact on the floor matched her weight anyway. "Did I wake you, Illya? Sorry if I did, I'll have breakfast ready in a minute alright?"

There was silence, though he hadn't fully expected a response. Illya was like Rin in that they both hated mornings, though the homunculus certainly handled it better than the Tohsaka. Prying up the edge of a piece of toast on his pan to check on its crust, he continued his one-sided conversation. "I decided to make french toast this morning. We had everything we needed and I wanted to make something to thank you for helping out last night."

More silence, though he heard her settle down onto a zabuton at the table so she was definitely listening. Deciding she was just tired, he focused on the task at hand. Plating the toast before sprinkling it with one more pinch of sugar. Using slices of strawberries and bananas for garnish, he delicately applied syrup to the surface and marvelled at his own work.

Turning around, he found a white-haired girl, but not the one he expected. Seated at the table, watching him with golden eyes was the priestess, Caren.

Blinking, he realized his mistake in slow motion."Sorry, I thought you were Illya." Looking down at the plate in his hands, he realized that it would be too rude to keep the food away from her. Besides, he had enough to make another serving anyway. "Were you hungry? You can have this if you'd like," he offered with a smile.

The girl looked at him strangely before hesitantly nodding her head. From their interactions, he could tell that she was a very reserved, quiet girl. Naive and innocent, but what young priestess wouldn't be?

He settled the plate in front of her, supplying a fork and knife as chopsticks wouldn't be appropriate for handling the dish. The girl seemed slow to begin, but after taking her first bite the taste spurred her motions.

It was a little odd that she was maintaining the Church alone though. How could someone _that_ young hold sermons and be expected to-

"Good morning Shirou!"

Turning around with some shock, he met an incredibly chipper Illya who was beaming a smile at him despite the fact that it was eight-thirty in the morning. "Good morning to you, what's got you so energized today?"

The girl shrugged, plodding over until she was seated beside Caren on another zabuton. "I just feel great is all. It must be your cooking, which you make _every day_."

Scrunching his brow at the strange inflection, he elected to pass it over for now. "If you give me a minute I'll make some french toast of your own." The girl nodded ecstatically, and while Shirou returned to the kitchen, he repeated what he had told Caren - this time to the correct person.

Within ten minutes, he had another serving plated which he quickly deposited in front of the crimson-eyed girl. Unlike Caren, Illya quickly began devouring the food ahead, already aware that it would be delicious. Pausing only to trace the girl, Shirou couldn't help but smirk as the signature of Avalon came to his mind. It was still at eighty percent after a whole night of rest. Now it was only a matter of time to see if the sheath would be enough to keep her organs from failing.

Returning to his stove, Shirou started prep on another serving. Taiga hadn't left last night on account of the weather. Even though she lived less than four blocks away, she claimed that the snow would be too much to handle, so she ended up staying over. His best guess on her true intentions was that she was waiting for Kiritsugu to come home. He and Missy were supposed to be back yesterday, but with the weather as it was, it didn't come as a surprise that they couldn't make it.

If they weren't back by tomorrow he would give the old man a call and find out where they ended up. Depositing an egg-soaked slice of bread in the pan, he wondered what Taiga was up to. She had caught him during his exercises earlier in the morning and had told him school was cancelled and that she was "stranded".

As if beckoned by his thoughts, the optimistic teacher strode into the open dining room, shouting a bright good morning out before anyone could prepare themselves. "Shirou, are you making food for everyone but me again?"

Shirou could only smirk. He knew her too well.

It was shortly after breakfast when the snow finally stopped. There was a little over six inches deposited over the past day, which had effectively stopped all of Fuyuki. Once the snow had stopped, the city began rolling out trucks borrowed from the northern regions to clear the roads. Around lunchtime, traffic was moving again, albeit slowly. Caren decided to take off then, deeming it safe enough to return to the Church. Taiga remained, waiting another three hours before Kiritsugu and Missy finally returned.

Their flight had been delayed on account of the weather but they had skipped the cloud cover entirely by landing at another airport. Then they simply drove to Fuyuki, but even then it had been slow going on account of the snow.

They had made it after all, and Taiga had given Missy an intense glare before stealing Kiritsugu away by chatting his ear off. The soft-spoken woman claimed that she was exhausted from the flight and retired to her bedroom before Shirou could ask a single question.

Her story was convincing enough. She looked pale, her eyes were heavy and half-lidded and her smile seemed much more forced than usual. It would make sense that a trip from wherever the two had been would make her tired, and the strenuous car ride across snowy roads likely hadn't done her any favours.

But the trace amounts of blood staining her hands and the still healing wound in the side of her abdomen spoke of a much darker story.

… … …

… … …

… … …

"I've had you taking down petty criminals on your own outside of Fuyuki for some time now but tonight we're moving up to take on something that could make a difference if it were removed." Tapping the map ahead of him with two fingers, he stared through the night into the cold brown eyes of his apprentice. Around them were the ambient sounds of tropical wildlife and the thick, dense scent of damp nature. They had established a makeshift camp that featured nothing more than a small crate of supplies in the back of well-worn pickup truck and a shabby tent with two bedrolls inside.

"You keep track of current events, so you'll likely know of the Columbian conflict. I'll keep this brief so we can get to the task at hand, but we'll be dealing with paramilitary belligerents known for trafficking drugs." He moved his hand to tap at a specific spot deeper in the forest. "I've asked you to perform reconnaissance on this area, what did you find out?"

Missy stiffened, looking down at his fingers. "There was a small compound fabricated from camo netting and various makeshift structures. There were at least a dozen men with high powered rifles, among them were hired workers moving packages of some sort."

Kiritsugu nodded. "That's good for a cursory scan. Did you notice anything about the soldiers or workers specifically? How can you differentiate between them?"

Missy furrowed her brow. "The guards wear black bands on their left arm and the workers are normally shirtless. There was one man specifically that stood out. He has some sort of ballistic protection and he was directing the others around."

Kiritsugu nodded again. "You've got all the basics you'll need. When you're more experienced, you'll be able to pick out patrolling patterns, environmental advantages and establish your own route to maximize your efficiency." The girl nodded, absorbing his every word. "When it comes down to genuine combat, there are things I can teach you and things I cannot. Group combat is unteachable, the situation changes dynamically according to your moves so you'll have to get experience before you'll be any good."

He inhaled to continue speaking but Missy made a noise that stopped him. "I'm sorry to interrupt, master, but how did you know that my information was correct?"

Kiritsugu was silent before releasing a lengthy sigh. "To explain it to you, I'd need more time than I have available so let's just tackle that at another time, the flight home would be perfect for that."

The girl nodded, apologizing for the interruption once more. "How will eliminating these men help in any way?"

Kiritsugu turned to lean sideways on the tailgate, crossing his arms over his chest. "It will put a hole in the paramilitary drug trade and restore some stability to the country. Since you aren't ready for a full-scale assault of a guerilla headquarters, this is the most influential operation we can conduct."

"I see, so how do we proceed?"

Kiritsugu pushed himself off the truck, reaching into a pocket of his coat to withdraw a permanent marker. With precision, he circled the area they were in and added a line that headed toward the location he had tapped earlier. When it got close, he split the line in two directions and added arrows for indication. "We'll advance on foot and eliminate any patrols we encounter along the way. Once we get within range of the camp, we'll split apart and take it from the sides to keep them pinned."

Missy nodded along, seeming to understand. "And then we detonate the camp with the explosives, yes?"

He nodded, reaching up to pry the cover off the crate. Methodically, he withdrew weapons and magazines for both of them, then struggled to remove a smaller box with explosive warning signs emblazoned on the sides.

Now settled on the tailgate were two identical pistols and PDWs, all of which were equipped with flash hiders. Reaching back into the crate, the Magus Killer withdrew night vision monoculars attached to head harnesses.

"The most important thing you can learn from this is to be aware of your surroundings. Those _innocent_ workers, if given the chance, could easily pick up a nearby weapon or draw a knife. Assuming everyone is a hostile is your safest bet." Pulling the slide back on both pistols, he verified that a bullet was chambered before repeating a different process with a similar goal for the PDWs.

"I thought killing innocent people was a bad thing. Aren't we supposed to protect them?" Missy asked, uncertainty in her voice as she picked up one pistol and stuffed it into a hip holster automatically.

Kiritsugu merely snorted. "Nobody is truly innocent. What we're doing is purely a game of numbers. Kill two dozen, save a town from being pillaged, stop kidnappings, prevent more drug wars."

Throwing equipment into his coat, he picked up a PDW and strapped a small bag filled with explosives onto his back. His black eyes grew darker still, battling the night itself to see who was truly void of light. "Kill ten to save a hundred, it's the only rational conclusion we have left in this world."

… … ...

He had been expecting it, really.

When he had told Missy to watch the "innocent" workers, he meant every word and he had known from the look in her eyes that she wouldn't heed his warning.

After efficiently clearing the paramilitary members from the outpost, four of the five workers had assembled in a hiding place where Kiritsugu couldn't see. Missy was the first to stumble upon them and after showing the cowering, unarmed men mercy, they repaid her by drawing blades and rushing her like caged animals.

Before they could be dealt with, one of the quicker men plunged a blade into Missy's abdomen. From there it was a race to remove the threats and treat the wound given to his assistant. Having to support and assist her in moving, Kiritsugu's plans were delayed. He had intended to take out a smaller area and fully cleanse the area of paramilitaries, but detonating one site had to suffice.

On the plane ride back, he had told Missy everything that had been hidden from her for the past year. The magus world, his true identity, everything that would break the magus code and render her a target to the Mage's Association.

Since she decided to become his apprentice, she had already put a target on her back, but nobody would be able to say that he had forced her into it. She had made the choice on her own power and had forfeited her freedom as a normal person. Before she had ultimately decided, he had made it clear that such a thing would be the outcome. Still, the girl was determined. Her reasoning was that since she had the skills, it would be best to put them to use for something good.

Of all his explanations, he had specifically omitted the Holy Grail War. Learning that magic and wizards were in fact real was jarring enough and at that moment, she didn't need to concern herself with it regardless.

Kiritsugu found the entire situation funny, if only because of his back and forth between being retired and being active. Entering retirement to live within the Einzbern castle, leaving it to find victory in the Fourth Holy Grail War, entering it once more to protect Shirou and Illya and now returning again to train another normal human into his assistant.

She was almost like Ma-

No, he couldn't create similarities. If he did, he'd develop feelings once more and Missy's inevitable death would hurt him, just like _hers_ had.

One thing he had to note regarding his re-entry into his "work", was that moving and holding positions made his back and knees a lot more sore than they used to.

A sign of the times, or rather, its passing, to be sure.

… … …

… … …

"But Senpai said he would watch me in archery club today!" Sakura protested, grabbing onto his arm and tugging it close to her chest. She was glaring daggers at Rin, who had gripped his hand tight in an attempt at leading him away.

With his body acting as the rope in this game of tug of war, he could easily tell which side would win should it truly devolve into a game of brute strength; it wasn't Rin. The blue-eyed girl sent back a glare of equal intensity, squeezing his hand enough to hurt. "I need Shirou for an experiment. You took him two days ago which means you've had him more than enough!"

"You know, when you said you'd share me, this isn't what I expected," Shirou commented offhandedly, to which both girls shouted at him to shut up. Clenching his eyes shut as their voices grated at his ears, he could only sigh. When he found out that he wouldn't have to pick one girl over the other, he was excited. It wasn't for any degenerate reason of course, he was excited because he wouldn't have to let either one down by picking the other.

It was strange and uncomfortable to think about his having two "girlfriends", but so long as they were happy, his feelings didn't matter. He would be able to breathe easy because he could still keep everyone happy while just being himself and loving both girls evenly, as he did normally. What he didn't expect was for fights like these to force him to make those types of decisions anyway.

Scowling, he looked between the girls who were keeping tension on his arms. He could tell it wasn't going to be good if the situation wasn't diffused. "I have a way to please the two of you." Both girls eased back on their tugging, interested in what he had to say. "I will watch your archery meeting and after that, we'll all head back home and I can help Rin with her experiment. Then we can all eat dinner together too." He watched their faces soften as they contemplated the compromise. "There'll be roast duck for dinner," he tempted, a point which was just enough to convince both girls to agee.

He felt his hand being released and without much more warning, he was pulled straight into Sakura's chest. The awkward bump nearly toppled the poor girl over but her iron grip on his arm held her upright. "Fine, but only because I can get two birds killed with one stone by experimenting at your house." The Tohsaka flipped one tail of her hair with one hand, giving him a smirk that reminded him of how beautiful she was. "Just don't be late."

Before he could respond, he was being dragged by the arm across the schoolyard, forced to keep up or else he would be dragged across the partly snow-covered ground instead. Spring had come earlier after such a brutal winter, something Shirou had been thankful for. Those walks from the Copenhagen back home had been a little too chilling for him.

Halfway across the yard, she seemed to realize that she was still dragging him along and she calmly released his arm with a small noise. Now walking at a moderate pace, he felt much more comfortable. "Senpai," the girl began softly, "are you going back to the Clock Tower this year?"

Shirou made a confused "huh" before realizing where her concern was coming from. "I don't think so. When I left, it was a pretty permanent deal. I don't think I'd be able to go back unless I went for real and right now, that's not the best idea."

Shirou watched a cloud of warm air spew from Sakura's mouth in relief. "I'm glad. When you were gone I was worried that you'd get hurt and I-" her voice cut off like she became embarrassed over what her mind had wanted to say.

He smiled as he filled in the blanks. "It's nice to know that I was missed, and you shouldn't worry about me so much. I can handle myself pretty well after all." His smile twitched as memories of his encounter with the executioner, Hansa Cervantes, returned. Had that man been a little crueller, he wouldn't even be having this conversation.

"Every time you fight I'm worried about you, Senpai. Rin and Illya don't say anything, but they worry too," she murmured, keeping her eyes forward.

"I don't think any of you should be worrying about me, but if it eases your mind, I'll try not to put myself in danger alright?" There was the sound of footsteps moving toward him; quickly turning his head, his eyes shot open wide as two women with shinai raced toward him.

With his body acting on instinct, both arms snapped upright into a cross, catching an overhead swing to produce a meaty, painful thwack. Before he could rest, one hand snapped downward to dexterously catch an incoming slash from the side. Twisting the arm holding back the overhead kendo stick, he gripped onto that weapon as well, holding both weapons in place.

With the threat halted, he focused on _who_ was trying to hurt him. His eyes met two familiar faces - Makidera and Mitsuzuri, second and first year respectively. Both of them were staring at him with a mix of confused anger. The former likely came from his easy counter to their combined attack but the latter he couldn't explain.

"Emiya! Why are you sabotaging the kyudo dojo?" Makidera shouted, trying to force the shinai from his hands.

"Today of all days!" Mitsuzuri finished, seeming to understand that she wouldn't be able to overpower him much faster than her accomplice.

Straining to keep both swords in place, nearly losing his grip as the hardwood creaked in exertion. "Now hold on, I haven't sabotaged anything!" Shirou shot back a hasty defence, confused by what the girls meant.

"Our bows have all been unstrung, and everyone says that you were the one who did it." Taking his face of befuddlement as an admission of guilt, Mitsizuri continued. "You know we have our district tournament today, but why did you do it? Is it because you hated Archery Club that much? Is that why you left?"

With a face full of anger, Mitsuzuri glared at him, demanding he answer her bombardment of questions. Before he could, he needed to understand the situation better. "Who's _everyone_?"

The girl hesitated, glare softening somewhat. "Well, it was only Shinji, but he says he saw you do It!"

Shirou sighed. "Of course it was Shinji," he murmured. "I didn't unstring your bows, what could I possibly gain by doing something like that?" Both girls seemed to relax somewhat as they thought over his response. "I never _hated_ archery club, I left because I got bored. I never missed the bullseye, there just wasn't any challenge."

He felt the tension against his hands fade and he released the kendo sticks hoping that the girls wouldn't hit him as soon as they could. "So Shinji lied?" Makidera asked, looking toward Mitsuzuri.

Shirou shrugged but in his mind, he blatantly shouted " _yes_ ". "Maybe he saw someone else and decided that it was me. If you're short on time before the tournament starts, I can help you restring the bows. I'll be going there anyway and I was always the fastest, so it's really no problem."

Makidera pulled back her shinai, placing her face in the palm of her hand. "Only the Homurahara Fake Janitor would offer to help fix something after being accused of breaking it." Turning to Mitsuzuri, she gave the girl a disbelieving glower. "I can't believe we fell for a stupid trick."

Sakura stepped out from behind Shirou, looking at the two girls with a blank face. Simply by knowing her for so long, Shirou could detect some anger in the otherwise unassuming girl. "Senpai has been with me or in class all day, he couldn't have done something like that," she defended, shaking her head and tossing purple hair over her face which she quickly tucked back behind her ear with one hand.

Mitsuzuri and Makidera shared a look, simultaneously facing Shirou and bowing their heads. "We're sorry for trying to hurt you, Emiya," they claimed in unison.

"Could you help us get our bows back in working order? We could use all the help we can find to get it done before the tournament!" Mitsuzuri asked, looking rather hopeful. "We'll deal with Shinji later."

Shirou rolled his eyes. "I said I would already so stop apologizing and lets get going before it's too late!" Before they fully comprehended his words, he already began jogging ahead of Sakura toward the dojo.

… … …

… … …

"Ready, Shirou?" Rin asked, looking toward the roof of the house.

Knocking and drawing an arrow, Shirou nodded and gave a quick vocal agreement just for good measure. Watching forward but keeping the Tohsaka in his peripherals, he saw the girl duck down before launching a brightly coloured gemstone high into the air.

Locking onto the object, his eyes traced its composition, recording the distance and its velocity to help him manually calculate a lead distance. His fingers gently slid beyond the bowstring and the arrow fired, striking the gem as it reached the apex of its throw.

It was difficult to watch due to the speed of the reaction, but the two conflicting magics sent out crackles of plasma before violently erupting in a large explosion. The fireball nearly touched the house and the percussive blast was enough to blow dozens of shingles off the shed roof.

Moving his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, his mind screamed danger and his body moved to react. Leaping to the side, an ear-bursting crack sounded as lightning fired off horizontally like a projectile, passing right through where he had been standing. It narrowly missed the house, skimming the peak before carrying on to strike the Emiya bounded field. As half of the energy was Shirou's own mana, it dissipated into the field rather than cut straight through.

As the explosion settled, he shakily stood back to his feet and looked down toward Rin, who was carelessly writing in a notebook. "Deterrent for spies, combat tactic and reminder of why _not_ to mix miracles," she mumbled, pausing to look up to him with a smile. "Thanks, Shirou."

Scowling, he placed one fist on his hips. "You nearly blow up my house and shot me with lightning and all I get in return is _thanks_?" He shook his head. "I really feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick in these deals."

Rin put down her notebook, looking up to him with a coy smile. "Then consider it your payment so we can remain friends." Watching his bland reaction, she stiffened a bit. "I'm kidding, you don't have to look so serious." When he still failed to respond, she cowered further. "Stop looking at me like that, do you want me to say sorry? I'm sorry, okay?"

Shirou smiled, letting his glare fade immediately. After all Rin had put him through, it was nice to get back at her however he could. Making her uncomfortable with his Clock Tower-learned glare was one of the very few ways he could do it effectively.

Leaping down from the roof, he looked over the area to make sure nothing was damaged. Beyond the shingles on the stone shed, nothing was harmed. Before Shirou could explain that he was just joking, Missy and Kiritsugu - followed shortly by Illya and Sakura - sprinted outside, fully prepared for a threat and willing to take it on.

Rin and Shirou worked together to calm everyone down, explaining that it was merely an experiment that exceeded expectations. The Tohsaka also requested Kiritsugu specifically to retrieve a box given to him some time ago. It hardly took more than five minutes for them to be sitting around a particularly ancient-looking ornate box on the cold floor of the stone shed. Once he had delivered the box from his safe, he left on Rin's wishes.

With the crate ahead of him, Shirou could easily see the complexity of its creation. There were several layers of bounded fields surrounding it, each extremely convoluted and made with extreme care to be as perfect as possible.

One of the layers stood out to him, but only because the mana signature was different compared to all of the others. It was the most recent addition but held the same quality as the other layers. To someone who couldn't break the entire creation down as he could, it would be imperceptible.

"What is this?" he asked, extending a hand to touch the box's surface. Rin shouted at him to stop before he could, looking at him with deadly seriousness. Once she was sure that he wouldn't touch it, she calmly and quietly moved to sit opposite of him so they could look at each other from across the crate.

"I'm going to tell you a little story, ok?" she asked, staring intently at the box. "You already know that I'm a magus, and you know what that really means. It feels like so long ago, but when I was young, my father died and left me to take up the Tohsaka family alone with my mother." She laughed hollowly. "I guess you know all that, but it's nice to admit it all. What I'm trying to tell you pretty badly, is that my father planned for his death. He left me so much, explaining everything that I would need to do as if he expected _not_ to be able to teach it to me." She reached out a hand, sliding it along the large brass plate at the top of the box. "A couple of years ago, my mother found this box while cleaning out the house and a message written for me specifically."

There was silence as Shirou digested the story and Rin likely thought of her next words. "Did it tell you what was inside?" he asked softly, watching her toy with one of the many puzzle-like locking mechanisms.

The girl shook her head, throwing her twin tails in both directions. "It told me that his greatest possessions were inside, though it never explained what those might be. To fit in such a small box, I couldn't even begin to guess." On the face of the box was a set of five-digit tumblers, featuring strange foreign symbols rather than numbers or letters. The Tohsaka's delicate fingers rotated each tumbler until there was an audible click and the lock disengaged. "I've been working on cracking the puzzles since I found it, but there are still two puzzles I can't figure out."

Shirou put the pieces together, suddenly understanding why he was the only one who could be near the box. "But you're impatient and you want me to tell you what's inside."

Blood rushed to the Tohsaka's cheeks and she immediately looked flustered. Drawing her hand back, she looked up at him. "Don't put it like that, you big idiot. I just want you to see what I've been trying to hard to get, to know the prize so I can see if figuring out the puzzle is _worth_ it."

"Well," he began, scrunching up his brow as he looked intensely at the box. "I can't see inside without touching it, there are too many bounded fields in the way for my tracing to see through."

Rin calmed down immediately, face softening as he silently agreed without stating it directly. "You can touch the box, but you can't touch the brass plate on top, otherwise it will explode."

Shirou twitched at the "explode" part, hand hesitating to touch its surface. Sucking in a breath, he pressed his fingers to the wooden surface, expecting it to blow up in his face. When it didn't, he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Trace on," he spoke, and a very fuzzy wireframe came to mind.

Closing his eyes and scrunching his brow in concentration, he tried to clarify the image by applying more mana to the point of contact, something that worked only partly. With so much mana trapped within the bounded fields affecting the box, his vision of it was blurred like he was trying to see through a glass of water. "I can't see the contents, but I can see the mechanism," he murmured, focusing hard on the brass plate and its complicated workings.

"So you can tell me how to open it?" the girl asked with incredible hope.

Shirou merely nodded. "I can tell you when the pieces line up and the lock disengages, so yeah."

The next few moments were spent with the two calmly working through the puzzles on the box. With his help, Rin effectively _cheated_ her way in, disengaging each and every lock except one, the tumbler style code lock she had demonstrated to him earlier.

"I don't want to open it here," she began, looking at him with desperation. "I know you've helped out and equivalent exchange demands you see inside as much as I do, but I want to keep this private between my father an-"

"Rin," he interjected, smiling before withdrawing his hand from the box. "I understand. You don't have to worry so much."

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at one another before unexpectedly, Rin lunged at him and wrapped both arms around his neck. While light, the speed and shock was enough to send him onto his back. With her head tucked in his shoulder, he held both arms out to the side awkwardly, not wanting to touch her for obvious reasons.

She squeezed him tight and the scent of fine rich wine and cedar struck like a pile of bricks. The normally stoic Rin clinging to him made him feel strange. Would comforting her even do anything? She wasn't the type of girl to really accept help from others, so he had thought at least. Slowly, he moved his arm to pat the girl on the back, feeling her ease the crushing squeeze she was delivering.

In his ear, there was a soft "thank you" which warmed his heart.

Though the warmth was short-lived.

"So this is what you two have been doing," came the voice of a particularly annoyed Sakura. "Behind my back when you're alone, I see."

Rin uncoiled her arms from around Shirou, looking up at her sister with an odd look. It didn't last very long, because Shirou abruptly shot upward and as a consequence, tossed the Tohsaka to the ground. "Sakura it wasn't what it looked like, believe me."

The Matou crossed both arms over her chest, pouting as she looked him over. Gripped in her right hand was a wet wooden spoon, likely a weapon that would be cracked over his head in a moment if he didn't ease her mind. "I can always tell when you're lying, Senpai."

Shirou nodded, she was right. Just like Illya, every lie he told could be picked out. It was a good thing he wasn't lying then. "Rin just got emotional over something and couldn't help herself, it wasn't because of anything like what you're thinking."

She studied his face for a long time, eyes occasionally flickering across his body. After what felt like five entire minutes, she calmly stepped to the side and stated: "dinner is ready."

… … …

… … …

Shirou looked up to take in the fine colonial architecture of Fuyuki Church. He thought back to that cold blizzard night where he saved the priestess. It had been some time ago and he had intended to visit shortly after, but Rin and Sakura had taken up too much of his time. It had taken him a little over an hour to get here walking, and that was considering he knew where he was going. That night, when he found Caren, it had taken them fifteen minutes to get back to his house and they were both frozen.

He had made the right decision.

While she hadn't been direct, she had claimed to be alone. It was bound to be difficult. Being so young and so far away from Fuyuki, she _had_ to be lonely. Taking one last look at the church's architecture, he carried on down the brick pathway, eventually reaching the large entrance doors.

Shoving them open with his shoulder, a wave of heavy incense collided with him like a physical wall. It was sweet and musky, but the concentration was more than overpowering. Shirou nearly felt the scent cling to his clothes and skin.

After closing the door and taking his first few steps inside, he realized that it was entirely empty. While he hadn't come on a Sunday, he had expected at least one devout worshipper to be present during the weekday evening. Looking around once more, he noticed that _nobody_ was there.

"Hello?" he called out, voice echoing back to him three times from the high vaulted ceiling. Besides his voice, nothing replied. At the very front of the church was an altar laden with fine white silk. Atop it were all the instruments required for communion as well as other religious affairs. Facing the door was an average pulpit. It was much wider at the base, but it was a permanent feature and it was elegantly designed to avoid being gaudy. Opened to an unknown page on top was a large gilded book that encompassed the pulpit's entire surface.

Shirou had to admit that it was a beautiful church. After being rebuilt, Fuyuki and the Holy Church itself had put in a lot more money in an attempt at revitalizing the religious community.

With his eyes locked on the pulpit, he was able to watch a small girl poke her head above the top like a gopher from its den. She was admittedly cute, much like Illya, with soft juvenile features holding a refined, almost mature side to them. She had soft golden eyes that reflected the dim light in the church, appearing as if they were illuminating the space themselves. Even in the dim light and from some distance, he could see the bleary, sleepy glaze held within those very same eyes.

As if the eyes weren't a hint, the dishevelled state of her hair was more than enough to convince him that she had been napping on the job. "I apologize, it's not often that I get visito-" she paused, blinking three times before viewing him with renewed attention. "Emiya?" she questioned, turning and stepping down from some sort of stool behind the pulpit. "Shirou Emiya, right?" He nodded while the girl continued her approach. Caren's mouth opened to speak, but there was a moment of hesitation as she reconsidered. "What can I help you with today?"

Shirou couldn't help but laugh through his nose. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." Taking in his surroundings, he was surprised when he discovered that there wasn't a single speck of dust to be found anywhere. Thinking about it more, it made sense. With all the free time on her hands, cleaning was likely all Caren did.

Caren grew confused at the statement, tilting her head and pausing for some time before speaking. "I'm fine, nothing has changed." There was another pause before the girl bowed her head. "I thank you for your hospitality once more. It was fortunate that I found someone as compassionate as you are."

Shirou scratched the back of his neck, the compliment from someone so innocent getting to him. It was ironic, considering he was a monster to the majority of the Clock Tower. Clearing his throat, he tried to move past the awkward conversation about himself. "So you run this whole church by yourself?"

The girl nodded quickly. "My grandfather used to run it before me. When he died, the responsibility would have gone to my father, but he was killed as well, so it fell on me instead." She shrugged her frail shoulders, clasping both hands at her front.

"So you've been here all alone for a year?" Shirou gaped, getting a soft nod from Caren. "Doesn't it get lonely?"

Another nod.

Closing his jaw, he knelt down to her level and broke into a smile. "Well, you're not going to be lonely anymore."

… … …

… … …

… … …

It was a muggy summer afternoon. Why he had decided to pick such a poor weathered day to act was beyond him, but he had been postponing the task ahead of him for some time.

With a jar filled with black sludge in one hand, Shirou strode into the middle of Fuyuki Central Park, keeping an eye on his surroundings to avoid being jumped.

Surrounded by nothing but sickly looking grass and gnarled, half-dead trees, he tried to see if the worm himself was watching.

"I know you can hear me, _Zouken_." He spat out the name as if it were a piece of rotten meat, though considering who he was referring to, there wasn't much difference. Shirou could have sworn that there was a rustling from behind him but when he turned to look, nothing stood out. Gritting his teeth, he swirled his head around the park, trying to find anything at all. "Come out, we need to talk about Sakura."

"What about her?" came the sickly voice of a dying man from behind. Whipping around to face the worm directly, Shirou took a step back as the repugnant appearance of the small demon filled his view. An inadvertent visual trace nearly made Shirou vomit on the spot. It was impossible, there was no way.

 _It wasn't human._

That _thing_ , Zouken, was a conglomeration of _worms_. When Kiritsugu had called him a worm, Shirou had thought it to be a figurative description for his deceptive qualities, not a literal characteristic. As much as it pained him to run the traced details over in his head again, Shirou had to see if there was a single shred of humanity left.

There wasn't.

"Come on boy, what have you got to say for yourself? You call an old man out into the night and gape at me? Not very accommodating you know. Sakura speaks of your hospitality, though from what I've seen it leaves much to be desired." The man chuckled, a sickly sound almost as vile as the person it originated from.

Regaining his composure, Shirou clutched the jar in his hand, blocking the traced image from his mind so he wouldn't violenty eject his lunch. "I've come to fight for Sakura."

The man blinked, moving his cane and weight from one hand to the other. "You'll have to speak up my boy, I'm an old man and my hearing isn't what it used to be." Turning his head to glare at Shirou from the side, Zouken raised one wrinkled hand to an ear. "You want to _bite_ Sakura? Devolved into cannibalism, have we?"

Scowling harshly, Shirou threw the jar directly at the man. While he would never consider himself a violent individual, it hardly mattered. Zouken wasn't human, there was no need to feel emotions for something so reprehensible.

Not even bothering to avoid the jar, Zouken took the glass straight to the face, object shattering into hundreds of pieces and spewing black goo across his face. The creature merely closed his eyes as the fluid was absorbed into his body. "You know what I said, worm."

Grimacing himself, the worm in question bared his teeth. "That wasn't very nice of you," he spoke ominously. "Allow me to show you why I can make fun of your heroic little attempt at rescuing Sakura."

As the old man tapped his cane on the ground, Shirou shouted out his trademark phrase, blades appearing within the air and in both hands. Before any could fire, a droning buzz and the sound of chitinous plating echoed around him. Commanding the projected blades to fire, he panned his head around, realizing he was surrounded by two types of strange bug, both magical in nature.

One variety was a flying insect, a hybrid creation of various types of other insects. Eyes of a spider, a maw of serrated gnashing teeth all above blade-like arm appendages. They each had the papery wings of a dragonfly which shimmered in the waning moonlight, and a long-bladed tail similar to a scorpion's, at least in premise.

The other variety was, rather fittingly, a worm-like insect. Merely five inches long, they weren't as threatening as the winged insects. However, their numbers and jaws packed with teeth were enough to label them a concern.

The first volley of blades had fired and managed to strike their target with ease, with _too_ much ease in fact. Every blade carried through Zouken like he was made of tissue paper, spraying vile black goo across the pre-soiled grass. His body fell, but before his mass could actually strike the ground, what remained of him became a swarming amalgamated mass of insects - simple ones, unlike the magical ones converging on his position.

Cursing, Shirou turned at the sound of fluttering wings. Barely managing to duck in time, a swarm of bladed winged insects dove to attack while the ground-based worms grew close. Thinking on his feet, he projected one of the only weapons in his arsenal that didn't require knowledge of magecraft to operate and could be used to clear an area.

The blades in his hands disappeared, replaced by a long bo staff that was quickly moved to be level with the ground. With a brief application of mana, the weapon extended and was swung in a wide circle, batting away the quickly advancing army of worms.

This fight was similar to a fight he had won in the Clock Tower Tournament, against a magus named Nick Vile. Though, would the same tactics work here? Standing from the ground, Shirou made note of the flying bugs around him on all sides. A visual trace put the number around one thousand, though the reading was inaccurate due to the darkness and the fact that more continued spawning from the very earth.

Surprisingly though, the creatures had stopped to watch at a distance, leaving a cleared ring around him where insects amassed at the imaginary walls. With each passing second, more bugs filled the empty space in the sky, slowly climbing to create a dome. This was a fight he couldn't win; while pitifully weak, he had no weaponry to deal with the sheer numbers.

Projecting and using grenades would run him dry and wouldn't be enough to take on the numbers - he needed something massive, a cleansing flame. "I had honestly expected you to be overwhelmed by the worms alone," came the voice of Zouken, swirling around his head from every direction as if it came from the flying insects themselves. "I underestimated you, much like your father. A foolish mistake, but it won't be made again, that much is certain."

Before Shirou could respond, every insect shot toward him, moving faster than he had expected. In a desperate attempt at saving himself, he projected shields around his own body, creating a small pocket in which none of the creatures could get at him.

In the middle of projecting the last shield to cover the top, his mana reserves expired and the half-formed object dematerialized into blue sparks. Shields weren't swords, he had pushed himself too hard. Gritting his teeth, the droning buzz of insects grew ever closer.

… … …

… … …

Illya settled up in her futon, stretching languidly and producing a great yawn before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Casting her head to the side, she spotted Shirou's empty futon, something that was normal considering he woke up ungodly early.

Gently squeezing herself from underneath the covers, the girl performed more stretches to ease her body into the morning. She had been waking up surprisingly better over the past few months without any real explanation as to why.

Maybe it was Shirou. Perhaps she had gotten used to him being around again. There wasn't much else that it could have been, maybe it was just a miracle.

Moving through the house back to her own room, she quickly removed her pyjamas and threw on a bright pink summer outfit. Humming a song to herself as she prepared for the day, the girl ambled into the kitchen, where Kiritsugu and Missy were sat across from each other, maintaining a serious look. Sakura was there as well, looking more tired than usual.

As she entered, he turned to look at her, clumsily breaking into a forced smile. "Good morning Illya, is Shirou still asleep?"

The joy of a new morning left her immediately. "He's not here?" she asked, looking out to the hall as if he would appear. Returning to her father, she watched him shake his head.

"I think Senpai left late last night. I heard something in my room but couldn't find anything when I looked," Sakura added.

"The young Emiya hasn't returned, do you remember him leaving or anything of importance?" Missy asked, trying to force a frail smile. Over the past year, the girl had changed significantly. She had always been a calm, smiling woman who spoke few but wise respectful words.

Now she was different. The smile had faded, becoming something akin to a labour to produce. She seemed perpetually exhausted, with her shoulders set forward and dark lines beneath her eyes. At the very least, she retained the wisdom in her conversations.

"I was with Shirou all night, or so I thought," Illya mumbled, raising a hand to her mouth. Why did her brother have to be so stupid? After running out to save Sakura from the freelancers and almost dying alone, she would have thought he would start leaving a note just in case-

Illya blinked, straightened and took off down the hall without speaking a word. Careening into Shirou's room, she looked around to see if he had been smart this time.

Discovering nothing on the surface, she began looking through drawers and underneath various objects. Lifting up her futon, she found a small, blank white card sitting just beneath where her head would be.

"You idiot," she mumbled, picking up the card. "Why do you have to do things alone?" Turning it over, she found a very simple message in Shirou's handwriting.

" _Central Park_ "

… … …

… … ...

He was alive.

Bitten, bleeding, bruised and battered but he was alive.

Left behind like garbage, Illya had found him in the middle of Central Park, unconscious and one foot in the grave. Doing what she could to keep him alive, Kiritsugu and Missy loaded him into the rented car to get him back home.

Illya had worked on healing his wounds along the way but she could only get so far. Chunks of flesh were missing, bitten off and ingested, leaving the skin behind blackened as if it were burnt. These areas were impossible to heal, at least for Illya's magecraft. Whenever she tried, the area reverted itself back to its injured state, almost like he was perpetually being harmed.

After healing him as well as she could, Missy took care of bandaging what remained - admittedly quite a lot.

After getting him home, it still took a few hours for him to wake up, though he refused to tell anyone besides Kiritsugu what had happened to him.

He was bedridden for three days, and on the third day - a Friday - an unexpected visitor arrived.

"I remember you, your name is Caren, right?" Illya asked, beaming at the girl.

The priestess nodded softly, looking down at the small package clasped within her own hands. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was worried."

Illya tilted her head, growing confused. "Worried about what?"

Caren didn't even blink, holding a neutral face. "Your brother always visits the church every Wednesday evening." Her bright yellow eyes practically bored holes through Illya's skull. "He did not appear this week," she stated matter-of-factly.

Shrinking under her gaze, Illya mentally stumbled. Shirou was out every week visiting this girl? He always said that he had work! She was about to blurt out that he was hurt, but she had no idea if the girl was a magus or not, or how well she knew Shirou. "He's been sick the poor guy, laid up in bed since Tuesday night."

Caren nodded. "I had suspected such a thing, which is why I brought supplies to help." She lifted the small bag to head level, gesturing to it with the other hand.

Illya blanched. "Planned for that, huh." Giving her head a shake, the homunculus flared both hands and shook them about. "But if you give it to him, you might get sick by being near him!" She hastily made the excuse, and it seemed to work.

Caren hesitated but methodically reached into her robes to withdraw a surgical mask and nitrile gloves.

Illya looked at the priestess with incredulity. "What _aren't_ you prepared for!?" she shouted, gesturing to Caren with open arms.

The priestess blinked, tilted her head and shrugged passively. "I try to be as prepared as possible, why are you shouting?"

Illya growled and facepalmed. She could see that there wasn't any talking the girl out of this, but if she saw Shirou injured it would just make her worry more. All of this hardly mattered because Illya didn't even know if the girl was a magus or not. That begged the question, how were magi supposed to find out if the other person knew or not? Was there some sort of code word that she wasn't aware of?

Maybe Rin would know.

"Caren?" came a voice from behind. Spinning on her heels, Illya spotted her father at the end of the hall, with a face that was far from joyful. "What are you doing here?"

"You know Caren?" Illya asked, watching the old man rather hurriedly come toward the door. Kiritsugu and Missy had both been both away when Shirou brought her in, so how would he have known about her?

"We've met before," came the soft voice of the priestess. "Though you never told me your name." Kiritsugu and the girl stared at one another for some time before he shakily cleared his throat.

"Yes, well it's better to be late than never. My name is Kiritsugu Emiya, you seem to know my daughter, Illyasviel, so introductions there are likely unnecessary." Bowing his head partly, he stepped behind Illya, resting one hand on her shoulder.

"She's here to visit Shirou," she murmured, filling him in before he asked the obvious question.

"Of course, I should have known that Shirou had something to do with this. You're welcome to come see him if that's what you're here for." With one arm, he gestured further into the house, pulling Illya to the side while she looked up at him in surprise. The look she received was enough to tell her not to worry.

The priestess nodded as she was invited in. Stepping in and removing her shoes before moving further, the girl calmly walked down the hall as if she lived in the house herself.

Once out of earshot, Kiritsugu snapped his head down to look at Ilya. "How much does she know?"

Illya grew concerned but diligently relayed information regardless. "She knows of everyone in the house besides Missy I guess," she paused, trying to remember the night. "Oh, and Taiga. I don't think she knows anything more than a normal person would, but Shirou's been visiting her every Wednesday apparently so who knows?"

Kiritsugu made an appreciative hum, patted the top of her head and started walking down the hall. "If she's a genuine priestess, she might be able to help Shirou's condition, maybe it was a good thing she came around."

… … …

 _"There's no point in killing you, it's much better to continue using you as a tool." Shirou barely suppressed a cry of pain as a worm devoured a chunk of flesh from his arm._

 _"A tool for what?" the boy growled, swatting away the worms that he could with his rapidly declining energy._

 _"To break Sakura's mind, of course. Her willpower is quite admirable, but even the most resolute have their weak points." The old worm jabbed the tip of his cane into a bleeding wound, finally forcing a noise from the writhing boy. "My case in point," Zouken snickered..._

Shirou's eyes opened to pain. Gritting his teeth and sucking in a deep breath, he tried to will some of it away, something that didn't work in the slightest. Trying to roll onto his side was one of the most challenging efforts in his entire life.

This was more than just a simple injury, this was a continuous debilitating effect, a curse that sapped his energy like a leech. Zouken had done something to him, likely keeping it as a reminder of his failure, or punishment for trying to best the worm.

The door to his room slid open and drew his attention. He had expected Illya but was surprised to see Caren softly plodding toward him. Forgetting the pain, he sat up abruptly, dumbfounded as to why she was here. As she neared, a newfound pain struck him - something much worse than physical: The pain of his broken promise.

He had told Caren that she would never be alone again, but he hadn't been able to visit her that week. The weekly visits had started as a noble effort to watch over a young girl down on her luck but after learning about her history the reason was twisted into something much darker. Caren Hortensia was Kirei Kotomine's daughter and Risei Kotomine's granddaughter, both of which were men that Shirou's own father had slain in cold blood. Because of Kiritsugu's involvement, Shirou couldn't help but feel guilty and to alleviate some of the guilt, he elected himself to be the priestess' friend. "Caren, I'm so sorry that-"

"Quiet," she stated, silencing him immediately with the commanding but calm tone of her voice. "You're injured, you were in no condition to visit, entirely understandable." Methodically, the girl knelt at his side and untied the knot on the bag. With both hands she withdrew a clear container filled with soup and plastic utensils to eat with. "I appreciate the concern for me, but you need to consider yourself."

Shirou grumbled, realizing the irony in that statement as it was spoken. His entire life had been spent devoted to others, what was the point in changing now? "I promised you that I-"

The priestess held up one finger, silencing him wordlessly. With careful precision, the girl opened the container and carefully brought it near his face. "Have some, then I will repair the damage done to your body."

His eyes flickered from the girl's face to the spoon being brought toward his mouth. He wasn't a child, he could feed himself, but Caren seemed insistent. Resigned to his fate, he carefully stretched forward to take on a spoonful, unable to enjoy it properly on account of the awkward situation and the pain returning to his body.

With the spoon now empty, Caren gingerly placed it back into the container and stared into his eyes wordlessly. After what was undoubtedly the most awkward ten seconds of his life, the girl finally spoke. "There is foreign energy constantly affecting your body. It is keeping your wounds open and slowly killing you."

Shirou looked down to the bloody bandages covering his body. "I don't know if they'll be able to kill me, but they're keeping me down for now," he coughed, placing one hand on his stomach and using the other to support his upper body.

Caren shook her head, laying one hand on his chest so she could force him onto his back. "You neglect yourself, taking care of others and placing their emotions above your own life." Placing one hand on his forehead, she hovered the other over his chest and closed her eyes.

Before Shirou could even object, the girl was monotonously murmuring in English. It was difficult to keep track due to the complexity of the words and the speed at which they were being spoken, but Shirou could tell that they were religiously focused.

The blessing she was conjuring was easily longer than a ten-count aria, but without anything to occupy his time he was forced to sit in silence. When she eventually finished, nothing spectacular really happened, though he did feel lighter.

"The foreign energy has been dispersed, your body will now begin healing normally." The girl picked up the container of soup, placing it on his chest before jamming the plastic spoon unceremoniously in his mouth. "Eat your soup."

… … …

"It's nice to see you up and walking again," Kiritsugu noted, taking a sip of coffee from a plain white mug.

"Being injured doesn't suit you, so we can be glad that it is a rare occurrence," Missy added, nodding softly to herself.

Shirou smirked, gently seating himself at the table. He felt much better without the bandages covering his body. "You'll have to thank Caren, she's the one who removed that foreign energy." He was a tad taken aback when the girl in question seated herself beside him, looking up to him with that same flat face.

"I'm the one who patched up the holes afterwards," Illya whined, pouting for extra attention.

"It was a simple fix," the priestess stated, facing forward.

"You still came by and helped, that's all that matters." Lifting his hand, he gave Caren a pat on the top of her head. He didn't even have to look to feel Illya's eyes glaring at him. Catching sight of the nearby clock, Shirou realized that it was lunchtime. It was a fact that made him acutely aware of his growling stomach. While the soup had been enough to get him on his feet, it hadn't been enough to fully sate his appetite.

Using the table to help push himself onto his feet, he panned around the room. "Caren since you're here, would you like to stay for lunch?"

The girl nodded, turned to look at him and smiled. It was the first time he had actually seen her doing so, and it caught him off guard. "Yes please and while I am here, we can converse on how to deal with the Matou clan."

The room went deathly silent and everyone turned to look at the priestess with varied emotions. "You know how Shirou was injured?" Kiritsugu asked.

"I was in the area when it happened," she agreed, looking toward the old man with eyes of equal coldness.

"If you knew where he lived, why did you not get help?"

"While I am a woman of God, that does not mandate that I sacrifice my life trying to save the life of another. The force Shirou opposed was insurmountable with a frontal assault. I took it as a sign of the Lord not to intervene, so I didn't." Caren casually turned from the Magus Killer to look at Shirou. "I'm sorry that I didn't help, you understand don't you?"

Shirou looked at the girl for some time, peering into her eyes to try and determine whether or not she was lying. Eventually, he decided to believe her, if only because he thought she was too naive and innocent to truly have evil intent. "I understand. You were protecting yourself first, right?" He smiled weakly, catching a glimpse of his father's disapproval without even looking at him directly.

"How about I just go start lunch and we can talk about that later, alright?" Shirou tried to deflect, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

… … …

… … …

Dangling his feet over the arch of Fuyuki Bridge, Shirou idly turned a bullet over in his fingers, eyes fixated on it as if it were solid gold. It was certainly iconic, a .30-06 Springfield round but with an off-white bullet instead of the more familiar copper jacket. It was the secret to his father's effectiveness, the foundation of his Magus Killer legend. The boy clenched it tightly, hiding the object from sight in a gloved hand.

It was a testament to how monstrous his father truly was. Casually lifting his hand up, he cast the cartridge out toward the ocean, watching it dematerialize into blue sparks before it could pass the roadway.

"Origin Rounds, of course he would have something this barbaric. Permanent disability of a magus' entire body, inside _and_ out." The wind blew a salted sea breeze onto his face, annoying him enough to make him pull up the scarf that had been hanging around his neck.

"Show me his greatest weapon he said, show me something important to him." Shirou scoffed, scowling beneath his makeshift mask. "What sort of weapon has the sole purpose of making someone live a life of disability?" Squinting his eyes in thought, he watched the ripples of the ocean water, reconsidering his views on his own father for the first time.

"What the hell are you doing up here, Emiya?" came a strained and annoyed question from his right. Turning his head, he spotted a familiar crimson turtleneck and black twin-tails. She was in the midst of pulling herself up to the top level of the bridge, straining quite a bit but managing after a few moments. "You're not planning on jumping, are you? Doesn't sound like something you would do but it's not like you to run away from your father either."

After looking the girl up and down silently with his eyes, he turned to look out toward the ocean again. "How'd you find me?"

Rin huffed, carefully stepping across the steel beams so that she could sit beside him. "Well, you're pretty hard to follow, don't get me wrong. You're stupid fast, you take wild turns along unpredictable paths and you don't produce a signature that I can track like with other magi." She leaned forward, poking her head into his peripherals before smiling. "But I have my ways. It might sound creepy, but I always know where you are."

"You put some sort of tracker in me?" he asked, looking down at himself. Tracing his entire body revealed nothing that he could detect. Though, as the Tohsaka had said: she had her ways.

Rin nodded, leaned back and placed both hands behind to keep herself supported. "After you went off to fight the freelancers, Illya got really scared. If Sakura hadn't been there with you, nobody would have found you and you might have died. She practically begged me to find a way without you knowing. After all the experimentation we've done together, I determined that there was a way to do it without you noticing. It's just enough to know your location so if you ever run off you could still be found."

"Did you do it because of Illya or are you just as scared as she is?" he asked, not caring to look at the girl. He didn't feel like looking at anyone at the moment.

Rin held her silence, eventually taking a shaky breath, though whether it was because of emotions or the chilling wind was up to debate. "Everyone is worried about you. Your father, Sakura, me - and Illya most of all. If someone's life is in danger, we know you'll jump in to protect them without a second thought, no matter what sort of force they're up against." The girl leaned forward, wrapping her hands around the edge of the steel. "It's almost suicidal," she finished.

"So you think it's stupid then," Shirou surmised, clenching his hands into fists.

Rin stared at him in thought for a while, eventually sighing and shaking her head. "Of all the people I know, you're the only one who took on three trained magi alone and survived." He simultaneously blinked and flinched as she gently patted him on the nose with the back of her hand. "That was all to save Sakura. Who knows what might have happened to her if you hadn't been there." Rin turned to look down over the edge, watching her own feet idly kick the air.

His hands unclenched. "So it's not stupid?"

"I didn't say that. It's _incredibly_ stupid. But if all you want in life is to protect people, then what you're doing is the best way to do it."

Shirou snorted, reaching up to pull the scarf down from his face. "You have such a way with words, Tohsaka. Who would have thought that insulting guidance could be so effective?"

"Hey, it got you smiling again," she pointed out, smirking herself. "So you want to tell me what happened? You and your father were alone and he just told me to follow you."

Shirou sighed at great length. "How much do you know about Kiritsugu?" Her mouth opened to respond, but he interrupted her before she could. "How much do you _really_ know?"

Rin stared at him for some time, eyes flickering down to his hands before she shut her eyes tight. "I know he's the Magus Killer and I've known for a while now. When he was first settling down in Fuyuki, he came to me in the dead of night to ask if I could be a mentor for you and Ilya. He also wanted me to keep his living here a secret from the Mage's Association," she admitted, clasping both hands in her lap with a hollow chuckle. "You might wonder why someone like me would put my magus status on the line to protect an absolute stranger, but Kiritsugu had the remnants of my father's crest and had given me information I would have never discovered on my own."

"Sounds like he blackmailed you into getting his way," Shirou pessimistically interrupted.

Rin shook her head. "It was mutual, in fact, I've ended up with way more than I started with." She turned to him and smiled. "I got to meet you and Illya. Without you, I would have never spoken to Sakura and my research would be years behind since I wouldn't have a willing lab rat." She punched his shoulder lightly, drawing a snort of amusement from him. "Even without that, getting my father's crest back was more than worth it."

The Tohsaka carefully pulled the sleeves of her turtleneck back to the elbow. Seamlessly, brilliant cyan lines appeared on her forearms. Complex lines and intricate workings in a design he couldn't entirely place. It was a blend of both germanic and nordic designs, but it was intriguing to look at either way. "So you're saying you'd be even weaker if Kiritsugu hadn't helped?"

The glare she gave him was enough to shatter glass. "You don't have any right to call someone weak, you're the only person alive who's been trained by the Magus Killer himself. Not only that, but you can summon an infinite number of weapons to fight with. Your perspective of strength is a little skewed."

Shirou forced out a cough and simultaneously scratched the back of his neck. "Infinite is a bit of a stretch."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, the girl carried on. "Either way, Kiritsugu helped out more than I could have imagined. I have no idea where I would be without him in terms of my studies. I'd probably still be struggling to fully comprehend gem magecraft."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Shirou turned his head, looking at the girl with equal parts confusion and intrigue. He would have never expected Rin of all people to make such a long-winded speech.

Rin sighed, donning a face that showed her obvious annoyance for his lack of perception. "You know your father better than anyone, probably the most out of everyone. Whatever he showed you was bad enough to send you running. It's easy for me to see that you're having your doubts about him. My whole story was to show you that your father has done everything to care for and protect you two. I'm certain that what he's done is purely for your benefit."

The Tohsaka laid one hand on top of his, offering a genuine smile that irked at his own lips. Eventually, he acquiesced and let the smile spread across his features. "Thanks, Rin," he sighed, looking up toward the blue sky. "He's just looking out for me, he doesn't want me to-" he paused, realizing that he was a moment away from revealing sensitive information. "Yeah, he just wants the best."

Rin nodded, though her face revealed obvious concern. "That's the end of my motivational speech. It's time for us to get down from here before the police think we're planning a double suicide." The girl stood and Shirou followed, but Rin didn't move to leave. Instead, she gained a rosen blush and looked blatantly at his mouth. "We haven't…" she trailed off, playing with her hands absently. "You know?"

Shirou didn't understand for a moment but he pieced things together quickly and stumbled over the prospect. They _were_ technically dating, and Sakura _had_ agreed to share him, so she shouldn't be upset if he did. The only reason he was even considering it was because if he declined, Rin would be upset. With his precarious position some eighty feet above frigid ocean water, he didn't want to anger her.

He would just have to even things out with Sakura later. Patting himself on the back mentally, he figured that handling two women wasn't as hard as everyone made it seem. Unable to help a small smirk from forming, he moved one hand up to the Tohsaka's cheek and followed what felt natural.

… … …

… … …

… … …

Shirou grit his teeth and rubbed at a heavy bruise on his side. It was already turning a disgusting shade of purple-black not even five minutes after the attack. "Mr. Kuzuki really doesn't hold anything back, does he?"

Issei nodded, pushing up his glasses with two fingers in the next motion. "I have never been a spectator in his sparring matches before, mainly because they were so rare, though after witnessing his effectiveness I can see why."

Shirou grunted, cautiously touching another gnarly bruise on his left shoulder. Souichirou Kuzuki was one of the only people able to get through his suicidal technique and the man had done it _easily_. "Who would have thought that he would be on another level entirely?" Shirou asked, hinting at something more sinister.

Issei had only been able to watch because Shirou was an outsider to the temple. Aside, the two combatants had agreed to meet outside of the temple walls to avoid prying eyes. Both of them could see that there was more to the other than meets the eye. Each of Kuzuki's strikes were aimed with deadly precision. They were specifically targeted to disable limbs and motion or kill outright.

Shirou, on the other hand, hadn't died - obviously - and he hadn't lost function of his limbs either thanks to some slight reinforcement. The two could sense something different about one another and both were interested to learn more.

"Even though you lost, you held up considerably better than the other martial artists in the temple. Tell me, Emiya, do you have some sort of secret technique?" Issei stared at Shirou as he always did: With a cold empty stare. After being Issei's friend for all this time, Shirou could pick out the subtle nuances of emotion on his otherwise blank face. The boy was concerned, and a little frightened, rightfully.

"Something like that. There's a dojo on our property and I've been doing some private training with various…" he trailed on, memories of Bazett, Taiga and Kiritsugu himself flickering behind his eyes, "...trainers."

Issei narrowed his eyes, handing the Faker a cup of green tea. "You live a mysterious life, Emiya, but who am I to pry." Taking a sip of his own cup, the boy grimaced. "The only one I'm concerned about is Tohsaka. She hasn't sunk her claws of corruption into you yet, has she?"

Shirou laughed abruptly, throwing up his bruised hands in mock defence. "I'm still incorruptible. Don't you remember our agreement? I go out with Tohsaka so that she can't take advantage of someone clueless with her evil intent."

Issei nodded, closing his eyes solemnly. "So long as you're still pure, I believe you."

Shirou winced at the odd wording. "Now you've made it weird."

"On to more important business then," he suddenly snapped upright, edges of his lips cracking into a smile. "I've come to understand that you speak English fluently."

Shirou smirked and in passable English, responded, "Issei those glasses make you look like a nerd."

"That's great. Listen Emiya, the Homurahara student exchange program finally has a student to exchange with. I don't mean to impose on you any more than I do, but I know you well enough to be certain that you would be perfect to introduce a new student. They'll be in your class as well, so you'll have more than enough time to show them around." Issei wrapped both hands around the small cup. "I don't have many details at this moment, but I'm sure they will come soon."

Shirou sighed and scratched the top of his head. On one hand, it was a major commitment that was sure to take up his already limited time. Balancing two women, a part-time job, his studies in school and with his magecraft and physical training was hard enough. On the other hand, he would be helping out someone in need and after his deeds as Blade he could really use the karma. "Alright, but I won't be open every minute of every day, I have a job and other responsibilities."

Issei nodded. "I understand completely. Your personal business will come first, I'm certain I can find someone else to act as a standby for when you're busy." The boy looked toward the sky outside, catching the sun and making a noise of surprise. "It's time for the assembly, I'm sorry but you'll have to leave." Standing abruptly, the man bowed. "Thank you for accepting my request, I'll keep you posted."

Like he was a stray dog, Shirou was shooed from Ryuudou temple and practically thrown down the temple stairs, though it was done in the most polite way possible at the very least.

Tugging his coat around his face, Shirou inadvertently shivered as the nipping fall air struck him harder than it should have. Another year was almost over and to be honest, he hardly felt any different. Rin and Sakura had been getting significantly more aggressive, the past few weeks especially.

"Senpai!"

Speak of the devil.

As fast as he could prepare himself, an unexpectedly heavy payload slammed square into his chest, wrapping both arms around his body and clinging tight. He would have reciprocated, but his arms were trapped in the girl's breath-taking squeeze. "Sakura!" He gasped, managing to pry an arm free to pat her head comfortingly. "Don't you have archery club? How did you find me?"

"Mitsuzuri gave us a break today." Looking up with a soft smile, Sakura removed her arms from him and stood directly ahead with both hands down at her front. "And Illya told me," she explained, casting a glance back to watch the albino girl sprint toward them both.

Shirou hummed, withdrew his phone to check the time and mumbled out a passing, "Four o'clock Wednesday," before looking back up. "That means Caren is somewhere behind you two, isn't she?"

Sakura smirked and tilted her head, using one hand to push back a strand of hair from the side of her face as she always did. "You have a lot of girls wanting your attention, just remember that Rin and I come first."

Shirou opened his mouth in surprise at the comment but Illya interrupted him before he could speak. Sliding across the sidewalk, she caught onto his shirt and leaned down to catch her breath. Resting one hand affectionately on her head, Shirou waited until she recuperated enough to speak. "I was the star sprinter of the track team," she huffed, obviously still winded. "I beat everyone in races, even you and Rin." Standing upright, she peered up at him with a pout. "So am I getting fat or are my legs just too short?"

Shirou laughed, bending down to his sister's level. "You have been eating a few more helpings here and there," he began, watching his life flash behind her demonic crimson eyes. "B-but I think it's because Sakura's also a track star, and she definitely has you beat in terms of leg length."

Illya made a noise of dissatisfaction. "Whatever, we're here now." She turned to Sakura. "I told Sakura where you were and she couldn't wait, I decided to go along with her but when we were leaving we met Caren." The girl raised one hand to act as a visor over her eyes, peering toward their home. "She should be somewhere between here and there but she didn't want to run."

Shirou nodded. "We'll catch her on the way back then, did you want a ride back home?"

Illya's head whipped around to begin nodding before he was fully finished speaking and the girl seamlessly clambered onto his shoulders. With minor difficulty, he stood, wrapping his arms around Illya's legs to keep her stabilized. Starting the walk back, he directed a question toward Sakura. "So did you need me for something?" When she expressed confusion to the question, he clarified, "Why did you run all this way?"

Sakura fell in step beside him, turning her head away partly as she responded with a mumble. "I just wanted to keep you company."

Shirou made a blunt noise of surprise. "Well it's nice to have company on the walk back, it's pretty far." Illya kicked her heel into the side of his chest.

Looking up, he asked what her act was for with some annoyance. The homunculus merely nodded her head in the direction of Sakura, who was silently gazing forward with a sad smile and barren eyes. Catching the meaning, he gently bumped the Matou with his shoulder to get her attention. "We hardly ever have a moment without Rin nearby, so this is nice too."

Sakura cast him with a smile bright enough to compete against the autumn sun. "Rin always seems to get in the way, I think we should spend more time together alone, Senpai."

As Sakura faced forward, Illya patted the top of his head like a horse that had done sufficiently well. While he would have commented on the matter, it would have tipped Sakura off, though besides that - Caren was just ahead.

Moving just in front of the small priestess, Shirou offered a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Caren, did you come by for lunch again?" She nodded meekly, focusing her attention solely on the girl seated atop his shoulders. He wasn't entirely sure, but he could have sworn that Caren's face had flickered with anger for a moment.

"I haven't eaten all day," she stated plainly. To someone who didn't know her, it would have sounded blunt and rudely imposing. Shirou understood it in a more endearing way: She was fasting so that she could eat more of his cooking.

Shirou couldn't stop a smile. "Well then what are we waiting for? Sakura, could you help me out in the kitchen when we get back?"

With an ecstatic nod, the four traversed back to the Emiya house, chatting amongst themselves idly. Something surprising that had developed along the walk back, was Caren holding onto the edge of his shirt, tugging him back when he was moving too fast. Shirou passed it off as a simple reaction due to her loneliness.

Eventually, they returned home and both Sakura and Shirou worked together to host dinner around six. Everyone ate together, including Missy - seeing as how she was now involved in the magus world thanks to Kiritsugu, everyone could speak freely at the table.

The evening followed quickly though it was interrupted by a phone call intended for Sakura. After speaking on the phone, the girl bowed, excused her rudeness and quickly left, presumably back home though she didn't specify _why_ exactly.

After another session in front of the mirror experimenting with his reality marble and nerve circuits, he examined his rapidly changing body in more detail. A year ago, only the roots of his hair were turning ashen. Now, more than half of each strand was a dull gray. It wasn't that his hair was coming in gray as it would with old age, the pigment was being actively altered from orange _into_ gray. After days of pestering by Rin, Sakura and Illya, he had left it short just as Reines had wanted it.

Gray hair was one thing, but his eyes were also taking on the ghastly pigment. No longer were they orange with gray spots, they were now predominantly gray with little strands of orange around the iris. The coloration of his skin had darkened as well. He was now well tanned. Even his body had altered more than normal. He was just a little shy of six foot two inches, weighing one hundred and eighty pounds with defined muscles across his entire figure.

He was significantly more advanced than a normal seventeen-year-old ought to be in terms of puberty, a fact which disturbed him.

Thinking back, these sorts of changes had slowed when he had stopped using his nerves as circuits, and now after he began converting them more frequently, it had greatly accelerated.

Being shirtless on account of his bath, he could easily turn his back to the mirror and examine his magic crest. Flicking the circuits on with his mental imagery, a vast intricate array of lines sprawled across the surface of his back. Each shoulder blade featured a set of strange-looking wings. The thicker main portion tapered off into a dull point and several progressively increasing portions curved up toward his shoulder, the highest of which going so high as to nearly crest his shoulder. Even the central part which had run downward along his spine had expanded, splitting at the bottom to create three ends, like a frayed piece of cording.

Rin's books had told him, the Clock Tower had told him, even common sense had told him that magic crests _didn't_ expand. So why was his?

Grumbling in frustration, he splashed cold water on his face and took a deep breath. He was changing, though he was unsure why. This was more than natural, but could he even stop it? Did he want to stop it?

"I am the bone of my sword, steel is my body and fire is my heart." He stopped, contemplating what to say next. Rin had told him that reality marbles were an outward projection of a magus' inner world, so was it as simple as describing what was inside of himself?

Activating his circuits, he chanted the two lines once more, closing his eyes in the search inward for something to act as the focus of the third line. Only Avalon was there, nothing else. "Within me shines Ava-" before he could even complete the sentence, his body snapped rigidly to attention. It felt as if he was being shocked by a cattle prod and the feeling continued for ten seconds before his circuits flickered off.

Gasping in a breath, he gripped onto the sink and lowered his head as the tingling dissipated. Once he had recovered, he looked up into the mirror and squinted at his reflection ominously. "Not going to be as easy as tracing, I understand," he huffed. "I'll just have to keep trying until I get it right."

Activating his circuits again, he closed his eyes and searched dapper within his mind for something, anything that would relate to his inner world. He found something, though it was small. It was a dark thing, a nagging piece of himself locked away in the farthest corner of his mind, beyond the glow of Avalon.

It was…

A loud knocking sounded from the door. "Shirou, are you coming to bed?" asked an irritated Illya.

In a second, his concentration was broken, his eyes snapped open and his circuits deactivated. Looking toward the door, he opened it casually to peer down at the small girl in pyjamas. "I'm making sure you don't run off again."

He ruffled the hair on top of her hair, messing it up thoroughly until it concealed her eyes. "Acting as a miniature defender I see. It's supposed to be the other way around you know, with me protecting you."

"Yeah well I don't run off and put myself in danger in the middle of the night," she countered, pouted and then readjusted her hair once he was done playing with it. "Without telling anyone nonetheless."

"I made a note this time. It's better than the last time I did it, right?"

Illya grumbled, obviously not thrilled about his answer. "Get in the futon and _stay_ in the futon or so help me I'll stick both Rin and Sakura on you."

Shirou raised both hands, leaning back in submission. "Alright, alright. But if you want me to go to bed right now, you have to promise not to involve those two, ever."

Illya nodded, beaming brightly. "On my honour as an Einzbern, I swear never to reveal your nightly activities to the Tohsaka or Matou families."

Shirou merely scowled. "You lie every other day, I don't know if you have any honour left to bargain with."

The girl defiantly stamped her feet on the ground, placed both hands on her hips and glared up at him with royal intensity. "You've done it now, Emiya," she threatened.

Shirou stretched his arms above his head, relieving the soreness in his joints. "Let's just go to bed okay? You can try to be threatening tomorrow morning."

Illya's cheeks grew red, and anger spread across her features. "Oh yeah? Well I'll, I'll-" her tone grew increasingly frustrated as she looked for a way to get back at him. Her eyes locked onto a target and her hand snapped out to act. Before Shirou could react in time, Illya gripped the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist and pulled.

… … ...

… … …

Rin hauled the dingy wooden crate onto her bed with a huff. "Why did you have to make this darn thing so heavy? What could possibly be so important that it couldn't be left in your study?" Rin asked the spirit of her father, annoyed at the game he was playing with her even after death.

Sighing in exhaustion, the girl threw herself face-first onto the bed, recuperating some strength before sitting cross-legged on the bedding. After moving some hair from her face, she gently ran her fingers along the brass surface. Her eyes flickered to the small piece of paper Shirou had given her. She had been debating using it for the past few months.

She could use the cheat sheet, find out what her father left her but miss out on the satisfaction of solving it herself. Or, she could struggle with incomprehensible puzzles for an indeterminate amount of time, possibly be unable to solve them and end up never knowing the contents.

She groaned loudly, leaning forward to thrust her head into the covers of her bed. "Come on Father, just make it easy and show me what you want me to do."

After a long moment of silence where nothing of note happened, Rin sighed and lifted her head from the covers. "Fine, then I'll decide on my own." She sat motionless for a while, carefully looking between the paper and the box, weighing the options of both. "It's not the magus way, you always told me to be independent," she mumbled, taking the paper in her hand. "But mother says that my friends are important, that I can depend on them to help when I need them."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "Alright, I know what I'll do." Carefully, the girl unfolded the piece of paper and read the answers to each puzzle, inputting what was required of her until several clicks unlocked whatever mechanism held down the lid. There was a soft hissing pop as the seal was broken and the bounded fields surrounding the object dissipated.

The girl carefully lifted the lid to reveal a myriad number of items partly hidden by two obviously important pieces. One was a beautiful pendant on a fine silver chain. The pendant itself was a crimson gemstone with a rounded triangular cut. It held incredible depth, darkening toward the center and containing small sparkling filaments. Beyond its aesthetic quality, it also happened to be impossibly powerful. Rin didn't even have to touch it to see that mana was practically radiating from deep within it. It was more powerful than all of her gemstones combined, it would even give a mana battery like Illya a run for capacity. If she had to guess, it would have taken her more than ten years to generate the sort of mana contained within.

The other piece on top appeared to be broken. If she had to guess, it was some sort of reptilian shedding. Instead of being translucent and papery, it was thick, antiquated and leathery, similar to the hide of a boar.

It had been shattered, demolished into hundreds of small fragments, some of which were pulverized into dust. Only three pieces remained that were somewhat intact, though they were hardly the size of a mandarin orange. It boggled her mind as to why her father would put something so useless inside a box that had been such a struggle to get into, placing it right beside a relic of such power no less.

The Tohsaka passed it off as one of his many ploys. " _A piece of trash to balance out something rare_ " or a saying of the same effect. He enjoyed doing things like that. If she really wanted to discover what it was in more detail, she could always bring it to Shirou, but what if it _was_ something of value? Deciding to leave it for another day, she refocused on the pendant.

Rin gently wrapped her hands around the trinket to bring it closer to her face. She didn't recognize it, but it was obviously her father's. Where did he find the time to devote so much mana to charge it? If it was so powerful, why didn't he bring it along into the Grail War to act as a holdout? The trinket brought on more questions than answers and each question was more concerning than the last.

No question was as concerning as a sudden burning on the back of her right hand. Making a noise of alarmed pain, she quickly dropped the pendant onto her bed and turned her hand over to see the cause.

A wild mix of emotions washed over her as three obvious red symbols burned themselves onto the surface of her skin. Two concentric circles with small openings opposite of one another. In the opening of the largest circle, a single line pointed toward her elbow.

It was unmistakable, they were command seals. But the Grail War wasn't supposed to begin for another fifty-one years, how could she possibly be chosen _now_? Unless…

She needed to go to Fuyuki Church. She needed to speak with the mediator of the Holy Grail War and find out what was going on. Rin couldn't even finish looking through her father's box, this took all priority. If the Grail War was coming sooner than expected, it could start in mere _days_. The ritual was traditionally held during the winter, specifically January. It was the middle of December, and saying she was unprepared would be a massive understatement.

Leaping from the bed, she paused once her feet hit the ground. If the Grail War was about to begin soon, that changed everything. Everyone she knew was in danger of becoming her enemy. Sakura, Illya, Shirou and even Kiritsugu could all be fighting against her. A chill struck her suddenly. The Magus Killer had came out from the last War alive and it hadn't been on account of cowardice. While he had expressed his distaste for violence, he was also unafraid of getting his hands dirty when required.

If he were to take part in the Fifth War, would she meet the same fate as her father? Purging the thought, Rin elected to get her information confirmed before she flew off the handle.

She would go to the Church, find out what was going on and then struggle with trying to hide her command seals from everyone.

* * *

 **I'm prepared to have my head removed from my shoulders by the Sakura fans, but I assure you things will be balanced, as all things should be.**

 **Short authors notes, I've had some very consistent reviews and I appreciate every single one of you, whether your review is glowing or criticizing.**

 **Speaking of reviews, remember to do it! As well as favourite and follow! Please show appreciation to my beta as well!**


	21. Wilted Seaweed

**EDIT:** **Mind me, my ramblings must seem really incoherent spread out across some twenty-odd chapters. I like to skip around and go from the end backwards or the middle onward sometimes. Maybe not the most efficient, but it's fun to do!**

 **Hey all! I forgot to include it last chapter but I have a straw poll going to see what kind of fic idea would be a good idea to develop based on reader interest. The straw poll link is:** www .strawpoll .me/18129592

 **It seems there was some confusion regarding the part about Avalon and this misunderstanding was likely just a blunder on my part. Shirou _had_ lost the power to regenerate through Avalon. Though, after speaking with Gray, he regained the regenerative power, just to a lesser degree. This was due to the momentary lack of connection and it has (as of the last chapter) mostly returned to normal.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Shirou had his back against the wall, fear in his eyes and broken weapons in each hand. He was staring down not one, but two unstoppable monsters from the deepest pits of hell. Each was determined in tempting him. Each one was asking him to commit a truly heinous act. It was something that went against his morals and broke every set of rules he had in place for himself. There was no way he would succumb and he would fight tooth and nail to prevent it from happening.

Blazing aqua and brooding violet stared him down from each side, forming a pincer formation that pushed him to the back of the hall. The move left him with nowhere to go. "This can't be legal," he panted, gritting his teeth and recreating the pipes in both hands. "You can't force me to do what you're asking."

"I extend my right as Second Owner to include you as my rightful property so you're bound to do my bidding!" Rin declared, pointing a demanding - and threatening - gloved finger in his direction. He knew the danger hidden within those fingers as much as the Tohsaka herself. She might as well have been pointing the barrel of a gun in his direction, with gandr acting as the bullets.

"Are we not good enough for you, Senpai?" Sakura asked, taking the entirely opposite approach. Was this some sort of hanky-panky good-cop-bad-cop routine? Where did they find the time to practice this!

Shirou shook his head, conflict rising in his mind. "No, well- it's not that you're not good enough it's just that-"

"You're scared," Rin blurted out on his behalf. "It's fine, we'll be gentle for the first time." The girl gained a predatory smirk and stood tall, ominously cracking her knuckles.

"The one day everyone is out of the house and you two decide to corner me like this? And to try and force me to…" he trailed off, mind wandering to focus on their proposition. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks and everywhere besides his brain, severely clouding his judgement. Before he could be persuaded by his own primal urges, he gave his head a shake and renewed his resolve. "It's not happening, trace on!" With a shout, the two pipes in his hands were reinforced with bright blue lines. Bazett had warned him about young girls and their urges, but Shirou had never expected it from Rin and _especially_ not from Sakura.

"Then we'll just have to force you," Rin menaced, predatory gaze turning a shade darker as her body crept forward.

The phone rang abruptly down the hall and both girls turned to look toward it in the same instance. Shirou breathed out a sigh of relief as they turned their attention from him to one another, arguing over who would answer. Eventually, it was decided that Sakura would answer the phone while Rin watched over Shirou to make sure he didn't escape.

Shirou faced off against Rin when Sakura departed, keeping the girl at a healthy full extension with the pipe in his hand when she tried to advance. Eventually, Sakura returned with an entirely different look: a sad, almost regretful one.

"I need to return home again, I'm sorry," she murmured. Before either Shirou or Rin could fully digest her words, the girl took off jogging toward the exit and the entire mood in the air shifted to confusion.

"Wonder what that was about," Rin murmured, considering the interaction in her mind. It gave Shirou just enough time to squeak by her and silently dart off into a room. With his options open, he could easily lose the Tohsaka in his own house and escape.

… … …

… … ...

Christmas break came and went faster than Shirou could have anticipated. It was stranger than the past few years. For starters, Sakura and Rin were absent and the only communication between them all was through the exchange of gifts via courier.

Even after, contact had been limited at best. In fact, Sakura hadn't even so much as called Shirou throughout the entire break, neither had Rin. Shirou didn't want to admit it, but he was actually thankful to have a quiet break period. After returning from the Clock Tower, everyone had been pulling him in every conceivable direction. He'd hardly had a minute of time to himself. Having to appease both Sakura and Rin by attending each of their events and spending time with them was getting a little out of hand. He just wanted to make them happy, not make them jealous.

At the very least he had time to himself over the break. So, as any sane individual with limitless free time for a solid week would do, Shirou spent it all training his magecraft and trying to further develop his reality marble. After the first dozen failed attempts, the consequences of his inability began to appear. His nerves were on fire, his muscles twitched and convulsed as if they were being periodically electrocuted even hours after his attempts and his sense of strength and reaction time were skewed. Every motion of his body was a gamble, with some being too quick or powerful and others being underpowered and short. He barely managed to stumble back to Illya for healing on one particular night.

Illya had told him that he was pushing himself too hard, but Shirou passed it off and claimed that he could handle it, carrying on with what was essentially just torture the very next night and the nights to follow.

With so many failed attempts, he eventually came to understand what his reality marble was looking for. Trying to determine the next line of his aria was like playing a game of Operation, where wrong words would set off an imaginary "buzzer". Considering he was shooting in the dark trying to find a word that would work, it was far from unexpected when he found absolutely nothing.

He knew a reality marble was a reflection of his inner world, so it stood to reason that the aria to enact its creation would need to be a reflection on events in his life, but what about his life was worth speaking about? He had attended the Magus Tournament, but that hadn't worked. He had killed, but that hadn't worked either. So what else had he done that would be enough of a milestone to fit its way into an aria? That was the question he asked himself every night while struggling to fill in the blanks.

Eventually, the Christmas break ended and Shirou returned to school with a smile and joy from the Christmas cheer. Rin was there, though she was awkwardly distant and made an opening to leave as quickly as she could. He wasn't able to ask the most pressing question in his mind: why she had decided to start wearing gloves.

Since he couldn't ask her for an answer directly, he had to settle for hypotheses, eventually coming to the conclusion that she just wanted warm hands due to it being winter. Though why did she leave them on at all times? Perhaps it was just another one of the female mysteries he had yet to crack. Some of those were nearly as hard as the reality marble problem he was experiencing.

Returning to school had been a welcome experience until he stumbled across Sakura on his way to class. Her eyes opened wide as she spotted him and she reflexively turned her head to the side, casting her eyes down while raising one hand to nervously toy with her hair. "S-senpai, how was your break?" she asked, pretending that nothing was wrong.

Shirou might have been stupid, but he wasn't blind. Even without tracing, he had spotted the darkened bruise partly hidden by concealer on her left eye. When he did perform a visual trace just as verification, a significantly darker story was revealed.

There was a truly obscene number of heavy contusions covering large portions of her body. Most of them were focused in extremely sensitive places, designed to inflict the most amount of pain. The ribs, the inner thighs, stomach and back. The severity was easily comparable to some of the bruises he had received himself during sparring matches or genuine battles against magi. But Sakura didn't involve herself in anything of the sort, there was only one place the injuries could have come from and it made Shirou's blood boil instantly.

He couldn't make a scene in the middle of the school hallway, so he quickly took hold of the Matou's hand and led her into the nearby science lab, a room he knew would be empty at this time. When they entered, the bell to begin classes sounded but Shirou hardly noticed. None of his responsibilities mattered when a friend of his was hurt.

Sitting the girl down, he remained standing with crossed arms, glaring down at her embarrassed face with concerned anger. "Where did all the bruises come from?"

There was a period of long awkward silence as the girl continued futilely trying to hide her injuries. "I can't-"

"You can, but you don't want to. Who are you trying to protect?" A thought leapt to his mind. Rin would never do something like this and the only other person remotely close enough to her that she would want to hide was- "it was Shinji, wasn't it?"

Sakura lifted her head immediately, silently confirming his suspicions in one motion. "Senpai, it's fine, you can't-"

"Where is he? I want to have a talk with him." Shirou looked around the room as if the man in question would be hovering around the ceiling. While he claimed to just want to speak with Shinji, Shirou's mind was anywhere but. It was actually disturbing how quickly his mind went straight to violence.

He couldn't hurt Shinji, no matter how much he might have deserved it for harming his own sister, could he? The best he could do was threaten the boy enough to make him never consider harming Sakura again.

He turned to leave but the Matou moved to stand in his path. "Shirou, please. It's alright."

Shirou was taken aback, not because Sakura was standing up to him, but because she hadn't called him _Senpai_. "But-"

"Shinji can't help it, it's just his way." Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, but Shirou couldn't focus on that when he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why would she be justifying such senseless violence? "He's using me to vent his frustration, I'm fine with it, really!"

Shirou clenched his jaw and set his face. He gently lifted both hands to grip her shoulders, squeezing just enough to keep her in place. "Sakura, this is something I _have_ to stop. I care about you, Rin and Illya care about you. None of us want to see you being beaten by your own _brother_." Shirou could feel his core heating up with anger, growing warmer and more uncontrollable with each passing moment. The mere thought of what had happened was driving him up a wall and he couldn't take his mind off it. "I'm not sorry for going against your wishes, I'm speaking to Shinji and making sure he never touches you again."

Sakura flinched as he pulled the girl close and wrapped her into an embrace but after a second, she relaxed and practically collapsed in his arms. The two were together for some time before Shirou released the girl and wordlessly moved past her out the door.

He had to find Shinji, or at least confront the boy alone on his way back home. The latter would make things much easier to handle, though would Shirou be able to contain his anger until then?

… … …

… … …

Stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket, Shinji pulled the two sides together to retain some warmth from the biting wintery air. While he could have zipped the article up and avoided the inconvenience entirely, that would have ruined the style he was trying to pull off.

Honomi, a young naive girl from the B class underneath him, had claimed to be busy today. That was important, as it meant that she wouldn't go out on a date with him today. He had tried asking out two of the other girls he had been working on but none of them seemed interested either.

It couldn't be because of him or something he did, so it must have just been the cold weather. Closing his eyes as he walked, Shinji's mind wandered to another troubling girl, Sakura.

What was her problem? And what was up with her spending so much time at that jerk Emiya's house? He was getting sick of it, mostly because when she wasn't home, he had to go out and spend his hard-earned money on terrible fast food. That, and he couldn't really enjoy himself to the fullest extent. Reflecting on last night, a sly grin befell his features.

He had really let the girl have it over the phone, letting his anger out enough to convince her to come back right that second. Once she arrived he- well, the mere thought of what he had done was the sole reason he was amused.

Sakura was a pitiable thing, deserving of the treatment she received in life. Besides that, he was the head of the Matou family and she needed to be put in her place regardless. She had to understand that _he_ was the real head of the Matou family, not some surrogate whelp like her who had been _graciously_ brought in to their family.

A rough breeze sent a chill down his spine, forcing him to squeeze the sides of his coat tighter against his body. "Damned wind, why can't it just warm up already?" he cursed to nobody in particular.

At least the snow wasn't as bad as last year. In fact, this year there was hardly any and when it did snow, the swings of warm weather melted it away quickly.

Turning along the sidewalk, he walked down the familiar strip of small shops that had separated from Mount Miyama. He had eaten dinner yesterday in one of these very stores - it was mediocre.

Ominously, a large shape stepped out onto the same sidewalk he was on a short distance ahead, standing perfectly still and obnoxiously blocking the path.

Shinji couldn't tell who it was at first, but looking upward he caught orange-tipped, silver hair. There was only one person in all of Fuyuki who had hair like that. "Emiya?" he asked, stopping a healthy distance away. Grimacing, the memories of all Shirou's injustices came flooding back and Shinji couldn't help but grow irritated at the mere sight of his rival's face.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I see you're going gray though you know they say-"

"Shut up," came an abrupt response, silencing Shinji with its unexpectedness.

Twitching his head back in surprise, Shinji furrowed his brow and scowled deeply. "Finally grew a backbone too I see."

Shirou took a few steps closer and the seriousness of his face actually threw the Matou off. This wasn't the Emiya he knew at all, he was significantly more stuck up for starters. "Why'd you do it?"

Shinji couldn't help but laugh, though by the way Emiya tightened his hands into fists, that wasn't the correct response. "We're rivals, remember? I'm ruining your reputation little by little and I've been doing it for years now. The night before the kyudo tournament, I was on cleanup duty and it didn't take long to unstring each bow a-"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Shirou growled, taking another step forward until there was barely an arm's length between the two.

The proximity and tone in Emiya's voice was enough to inspire some fear and panic, though it wasn't enough to break Shinji's resolve. Shirou was a softie, the few times he had gotten into fights, the boy merely defended himself. It was doubtful that he could even throw a punch. "Then what _are_ you talking about? Spit it out already."

Emiya took another step forward, nearly bumping their chests together. Having to lift his head partly due to the height difference, the Matou spotted a fire blazing behind his rival's silver eyes. Shinji had never noticed how much Shirou had changed, he almost looked like another person compared to how he was just a few years ago. The boy's lips were set in a deep hateful scowl and his entire face looked set to kill. "Sakura," was all Shirou said, like some sort of machine with minimal programming.

Shinji narrowed his eyes. "I see, that bitch squealed to you and now you're-" Before Shinji could finish his sentence, his head snapped to the side as a hand violently slapped him. The force was unprecedented and it was more than enough to send the full-sized man onto the ground. Lifting a hand to his cheek to cool the painful heat, Shinji cast a resentful stare from the ground into the eyes of the Emiya.

"Don't call her that," the boy growled while his fists trembled at his side.

How dare someone like _Emiya_ touch him like that, how _dare_ such an insignificant person lay his hands on him? Did he know who he was? Shinji would make Shirou's life a living hell, both in school and out - he would just need to ask for a favour from his grandfather.

"I can call her whatever I want, I'm her brother," Shinji spat back, lifting himself back to his feet shakily. He jabbed a finger into Emiya's chest, surprised at finding the boy was practically a solid wall. "And I'll do whatever I want with her too." Shinji couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his lips. "She's never complained, maybe she likes what I do to her."

Being so close, Shinji could watch Shirou's face twitch. "You take that back," he threatened shakily, voice wavering somewhat. "Or you'll regret ever saying it."

Shinji regained some confidence, stinging pain on the side of his face keeping his anger burning strong. "What are you going to do, kill me?" The Matou narrowed his eyes, "You don't have the guts."

The only warning he got was the brief flash of bared teeth. Before Shinji could even understand what was happening, a fist collided with his nose and everything collapsed into darkness and stars.

The next thing his eyes comprehended was the sidewalk as it rapidly approached. There was another impact and the darkness returned, bringing pain which rapidly pulsed in his face. As his body regained its functionality, the feeling of hot liquid became apparent, trickling down the front of his face.

Shakily, Shinji pushed off the cold concrete with both arms, eyes growing as he spotted fresh crimson fluid dripping onto the gray stone. Shirou had punched him, had genuinely struck him in anger.

It was unexpected, and it made the Matou wonder what else the boy would do. With his head reeling to maintain consciousness, Shinji scrambled clumsily to his feet, taking a few steps forward with his back toward Emiya before turning around to face him directly. There was some space between them now at least, another moment to comprehend what was happening.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Shinji asked, in bewilderment and with a voice altered by a blood-clogged nose.

Shinji's question did little to stop the Emiya from advancing. There was literal murder in each of those eyes and for the first time, Shinji feared for his life.

Disregarding his bloody nose, Shinji fumbled around trying to stuff one hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. When Shirou was just a step away with his hand reaching forward, the Matou managed to withdraw what he was searching for.

There was an audible clicking snap just before the Matou thrust his hand forward in an act of panicked desperation. A soft fleshy noise halted Shirou in mid-step, forcing the Emiya's eyes open while he made a soft grunt of pain.

The two simultaneously looked down toward the area of conflict. Following Shinji's arm, they both arrived at the same point - the blade firmly embedded in Shirou's abdomen.

Shinji was stunned, appalled that he had even done such a thing - thought it felt powerful at the same time. He _stabbed_ Shirou, his rival. Would it kill him? Was he a murderer?

No, it was self-defence. But he would have still killed regardless. Maybe if he killed Emiya, his grandfather would respect him more, maybe _everyone_ would respect him more.

Shinji yanked the blade free and blood began dribbling from the gaping wound. The blue-haired boy reared his arm back to stab his rival again, but his hand was suddenly caught by another in mid-thrust. Snapping his head up with an agape mouth, he couldn't even blink before another hand was thrust toward his face.

Everything happened at once: Some sort of cloth was being forced into his mouth, his arm was twisted and yanked toward Shirou, and the hand pushing the cloth into his maw was abruptly snapped downward.

There was a visceral crack as Shirou's elbow collided with the back of Shinji's own. The limb was broken effortlessly and the blue-haired boy made a cry of pain that was muffled by the cloth jammed in his mouth.

Shirou didn't stop there, as Shinji's own arm was twisted back on itself, being manhandled to force the blade right back into its wielder's own torso. His hand was released, but he was still unable to fully scream with the cloth in his mouth. Focusing on his mangled arm, he cautiously used his other hand to try and dislodge the blade, but every touch to his broken limb sent blinding agony through his body and whited out his vision.

He had never felt anything like it before, the pain was horrendously indescribable. The shock of what was happening likely dulled the suffering, but it was excruciating nonetheless.

Shinji didn't make it very far, unable to move the knife or even release it with his own disgustingly broken arm. The Matou looked up to find his rival staring at him, not with fear or uncertainty or even regret. Shirou's face was cold and apathetic, heartless and understanding of his actions.

This man wasn't human; humans felt emotion, especially after stabbing one of their own. Peering into Shirou's eyes Shinji could tell: He had done something like this before - it wasn't something new for him. He had done it before, and he would do it again if he had to.

Shinji was too stunned to move out of the way as Shirou wrapped one hand around his clammy throat. The silver-haired boy lifted him off his feet easily, glaring into his panicked eyes with cold hatred. Sucking in a shaky breath, he let out a haunting whisper. "You won't be able to hurt Sakura anymore."

The hand around his neck squeezed tight, cutting off his already limited supply of oxygen. The edges of his vision went dark, and he struggled to try and free himself. Shinji punched at the arm holding him but it was to no avail, his rival was too strong. "You won't be able to hurt anyone anymore." There was a hot searing pain in Shinji's abdomen that went above the agony of his arm. Straining his eyes to look down, he spotted a _sword_ embedded in his torso, likely continuing through his entire body if the pain in his back was any indication. Where had that come from?

As the seconds passed on, the suffering gradually ebbed away and his entire body began to feel _cold_. The motions of his one good arm were slowing, becoming weaker and weaker as his body shut down one system at a time.

Shinji came to the conclusion that he was dying, that this was the end of the line. Shinji still had a problem though. He couldn't quite comprehend _why_. Why was this happening to him? Now of all times? Wasn't his grandfather supposed to protect him?

His vision was nothing more than a pinprick and even that was fading fast. The last image he witnessed before the darkness eclipsed his entire view was the anger-filled features of Shirou.

… … …

… … …

Shirou couldn't wash his hands anymore. The soap from the dispensers, the hottest water the grubby sink could produce, nothing was getting the blood off his hands.

Pulling back from the scalding water, he watched his hands tremble while the water slowly dripped off his burned pink skin. Clenching his hands and eyes, he tried to will the blood away, reopening both to the same sight as before, blood-soaked hands.

Cursing audibly, he couldn't help but clench his entire body, trying to rid himself of the turmoil coursing through his brain. In frustration, he shouted and slammed a fist into the mirror above the sink. The entire surface shattered violently, with a few large pieces falling to shatter into even smaller shards within the porcelain below. Gripping the edges of the dingy sink, Shirou took heaving breaths in an attempt at controlling himself.

He had lost control, he didn't even know what he was doing until it was over and by then it was too late. _What had he done?_ _How could he let it happen?_ He had really just intended to talk. Threaten, use his words maybe, but he hadn't intended to hit Shinji, let alone _kill_ him.

When Shinji had insulted his own sister like that, then claimed that she would _enjoy_ being struck, something inside Shirou snapped and he hadn't returned to himself until some time after his deed.

Shirou obviously panicked, but before it could deal any damage, his training with Kiritsugu had kicked in. Since Shirou couldn't even cast purifying flames like his old man, he had been taught a single rune that would conflagrate whatever it was written on. Since runes required nothing more than memory and mana to work, almost anybody could learn them. Using that, the body had been handily disposed. Only a trained magus that knew what they were looking for would be able to find a trace. Once the main problem was handled, he cleaned up the blood, traced a clean outfit to wear and calmed himself down - though the latter didn't work as well as he'd wanted it to.

Looking up to the remnants of the mirror, a shattered reflection stared back at him with wild eyes. Maybe he _was_ a monster, maybe Kain was right. If he was capable of this…

Lowering his head and gritting his teeth, he mumbled a hollow "goddamnit" toward the sink. Gripping onto the edges, Shirou focused on breathing, trying to collect his mind before it exploded.

His head was pounding, his stomach hurt and he felt like simultaneously vomiting and ripping the sink straight from the wall. He did neither thankfully, instead deciding to turn the water to cold and splash it onto his face.

Once he was cooled and sufficiently stabilized, he turned toward the broken door he had entered through and silently slipped out into the back alley. After cleaning up, he had fled all the way into Shinto, stumbling onto a gas station that thankfully had a bathroom in the back. It was dingy, ill-maintained and had the persistent smell of rust, stale bodily fluids and mould. The one redeeming feature was that it was discreet. He estimated that he was a little over forty-five minutes from home, and judging by the vibrations coming from his pocket, people were looking for him.

Shakily retrieving his phone, Shirou took a deep breath and flicked it open after noting the time: seven o'clock. Putting it to his ear he offered a nameless greeting. It was a habit inherited from his father, though his father had a reason to protect his identity.

"Where are you?"

Shirou didn't have to think much to recognize his own father's voice. "I'm fine, just got caught up…" He hadn't thought this far ahead, he didn't have an excuse and lying would get him caught. "...helping a friend," he settled on, going for a half-truth. This would help Sakura in the end, wouldn't It?

Shirou decided to start his walk back, wiping a bloodied hand on his clothes. The blood wasn't leaving, though it didn't stain his clothes either. On the other end of the call, there was a shuffling and a soft noise akin to a sigh. "Hurry back when you're done, your dinner is getting cold."

Deciding to play things natural, Shirou decided to ask what dinner was before explaining that he would be back in a half-hour. After closing his phone and replacing it in his pocket, he tried with extra vigour to wipe the blood off. Once again, it failed to leave his hands and failed to leave a stain.

What was happening?

… … …

… … …

Shirou stepped into his house with a tremble. In fact, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking uncontrollably. It was one thing to kill someone he didn't know, hardly knew or hated. It was something else entirely to murder someone he knew, had been friends with and who just so happened to be the brother of one of his girlfriends.

It was different. He couldn't explain it, but it was disturbing him more than any of his other murders.

Maybe he really was a monster.

"Is that you Shirou?" came a question from Illya, startling him even though it should have been expected.

He tried to speak but his voice cracked at the beginning, prompting him to clear his throat and try again. "Yeah, how was dinner?"

"You missed out, it was _so_ much better hot and fresh," she gloated, giggling to herself.

Shirou took another shaky breath, removing his shoes and trying to calm himself. He had been trained by the Magus Killer himself, he was supposed to shut this sort of stuff out and focus on his goal. While he was never taught anything about assassination, the old man had offered his general all-purpose guidance.

Protect his family, protect his friends. Shirou had done both. Sakura was being hurt by Shinji, he needed to be removed if she were to be protected effectively. "That's great. Did Taiga show up?" he called out again, walking down the hall. As he entered the kitchen, Illya explained that the teacher hadn't arrived. At the sound of his arrival, the girl turned, gave him a queer look and actually stood up.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, are you feeling alright?" The small girl approached him and gently took one of his hands in both of her own. Could she see the blood staining them? Did she know already? "You're shaking and cold, what were you up to all night?"

Shirou had already dug himself a hole with Kiritsugu, now he just had to dig one of equal size with Illya. "I was helping a friend with something."

Illya hummed, stared up at him with concern and gently rubbed at his hand. "Well it looks like it was a pretty hard task, why don't you go get some sleep a little early?" she asked, guiding him by the hand back into the hall. He could hardly refuse, especially since he _was_ exhausted and the prospect of sleep was so alluring.

He was lead into his own room but instead of being led to his futon, the door was closed behind him and he was whipped around to face the homunculus. "I know you're lying to me, so what did you do?" The girl placed both hands on her hips, concern growing into annoyance.

Shirou began an attempt at defending his lie but as he started speaking, Illya's face clearly displayed that she wasn't buying it.

The tyrant rolled her eyes and pouted. "You can't tell your own sister? Come on big brother, you tell me _everything_. Is this really so bad?"

"Using your charm to get information isn't fair!" he shot back, trying not to look at her.

"So it was working?" the girl giggled. When he remained silent, she sighed and placed her chin thoughtfully in her hand. "Nobody needs help in the middle of the evening. You've already got _two_ girlfriends so you can't be looking for _that_ sort of thing." When he gave a sharp look, she merely waved him away. Suddenly, the girl snapped her fingers, casually saying, "Take off your shirt."

Shirou recoiled. "Illya, you've seen _way_ too much, I'm not showing you anything."

Now it was Illya's turn to be disgusted, though it almost seemed forced. "I don't want to see you naked again you big pervert! Just take off your shirt so I can see something."

He couldn't put the pieces together in his mind and even if he could, declining would be suspicious on its own. He resigned and carefully lifted his shirt above his head. Illya made a quick "ah-hah" and placed one hand on his abs. He realized his mistake immediately. "You got into a fight and were stabbed. Seems like your _friend_ is pretty rough." There was a soft green glow as Illya patched up the partly healed injury using magecraft.

Shirou remained silent. He was caught, but he couldn't admit to his deeds. Illya knew he had killed, but those were all people who were directly or indirectly trying to hurt her. "I-," he began, voice acting on its own. She was right, he couldn't lie to her, not even half lies. "I killed Shinji."

The girl stiffened, hands pausing on his torso for a moment before pulling away slowly. "Shinji Matou? Not that I liked him, but why?"

Shirou looked down at his crimson hands. "I lost control," he admitted through gritted teeth. His voice turned cold and empty as the memories replayed once more in his kind. "I lost control just like I did with you. He beat Sakura and-"

"Woah woah, calm down!" Illya quickly interrupted, waving her hands up at his face to grab his attention. "That time was years ago and you didn't lose control. You just wanted to protect me and did what you had to. If you say you went through the same thing again, then what you did was for the best." Illya turned her head partly, murmuring to herself. "Abuse from her own brother? Maybe it's a good thing that he's gone."

Shirou ran a hand through his hair, gripping and pulling on some of it. At least he could ask someone else the questions running through his own mind. "What do I tell Sakura?"

Illya shot him a questioning look. "What do you mean? Tell her you killed the guy who was abusing her. Shouldn't she be happy that he's gone? There's no way she could enjoy something like that."

Shirou shook his head, kneeling on the tatami below so he could rest his sore legs. "Sakura never wanted him killed. I can't explain it, but she was almost protecting him. When I found out about it, she said that she could _handle it._ "

Illya hummed. "So what do you want to do? If you tell her, she'll be crushed."

Shirou nodded mournfully. "I know, I know, I'm stuck."

Illya plodded up to kneel just ahead of him. "Alright, well let's think about our options. Did anybody see you," she trailed on, gesturing with her hand awkwardly. "You know, kill him?"

Shirou thought about it for a second before shaking his head. "No, nobody was around."

The homunculus shrugged. "Alright, well we could lie to her."

"You want _me_ to lie to her?"

Illya broke into an unamused laugh. "No, she would see through you like water. I was thinking that Daddy could do it for you."

" _Kiritsugu?_ " Shirou asked with the same emotion as if the girl had punched him in the mouth. "I can't go to him, no way."

Illya scrunched up her face. "Why not? He doesn't care about that guy any more than I do and besides, he knows much more about this sort of thing than either of us. On top of it all, he's the only one who can lie to Sakura." Making note of Shirou's confusion, the girl rolled her eyes and continued. "Sakura sees through everyone. You know how I can tell when you're lying? Well, she can tell when _anybody_ is lying."

"Except Kiritsugu," Shirou mumbled, finishing her thought. "I guess we have no choice then, let's see what the old man thinks." Illya nodded and quickly ran out the door to get their father. Before long she returned with the man in tow. The expression on his face was one of disappointment more than anything.

Closing the door after he entered, the man stared at Shirou intensely. "We have a problem." Kiritsugu leaned against the door and sighed heavily. He paused to rub at the bridge of his nose before speaking. "You've battled Zouken Makiri before," his words were a statement but Shirou understood it as a question.

Shirou was confused already. "If Makiri is the same as Matou, yeah. He's not-"

"Human, he's a collection of worms," Kiritsugu filled in, nodding in agreement. "It's what I assumed after my confrontation with his as well. Either way, because of his condition, he has the uncanny ability to be everywhere at all times. Parts of him are inside insects and dormant worms across all of Fuyuki, acting as his eyes and ears. Zouken undoubtedly keeps an extra eye on those he deems important. The odds are that he knows precisely what you've done."

Shirou's heart sank. "He wouldn't tell Sakura, would he?"

Kiritsugu nodded, "The first chance he got." Watching Shirou rapidly grow in worry, he motioned with one hand for him to calm down. "Don't worry, Sakura likes you more than that excuse of a step-brother I'm sure. She will get upset and confront you, but you should be able to work things out."

There was silence as all three collectively thought over their situation. Illya was the first to break the tension. "So then why do we have a problem?"

Kiritsugu hummed, his mind a thousand kilometres deep in thought. "With the Holy Grail War just around the corner, why would he allow you to kill his grandson? Even if he planned to use Sakura as the Matou master, why allow one of his own blood to be slain?"

"Hey old man," Shirou began, furrowing his brow in thought. "When I was defeated by Zouken, he said he would leave me alive so that I could help break Sakura's mind. Maybe that has something to do with this?"

Kiritsugu made a noise of thought, bringing one hand up to his mouth before scowling. "If only you hadn't thrown the jar containing our only specimen directly into our enemies' face we might have been able to test something, a bounded field that would repel or destroy Zouken's familiars." Sighing at length, he closed his eyes and sat quietly for a few more moments.

Father and son had already spoken at length about that encounter and both concluded that it was incredibly foolish. Shirou had acted impulsively, his young nature believing he could defeat Zouken single-handedly without help. While Kiritsugu had knowledge, Shirou's resistance to asking for help meant it went untapped. It was a mistake, but at least the boy had learned to seek assistance when he was up against something unknown. Shirou was gradually coming to terms with the fact that his father was a wealth of knowledge, though he still disliked asking for assistance regardless.

Kiritsugu nodded partly to himself. "We don't have enough information to act, so for now we should keep an eye on Sakura, collectively. Obviously, the key to Zouken's victory in this coming war depends on Sakura's state of mind."

"What if she won't speak to me after this?" Shirou asked.

Kiritsugu opened the door to leave, stepping halfway into the hall. "She'll come around. She doesn't enjoy living there any more than you enjoy her being there, I'm sure of it."

Kiritsugu turned to leave but suddenly stopped, abruptly casting his head back to look at the kneeling boy. "When you're more composed, we have to talk," he stated, continuing to exit shortly after. While the man walked off, Shirou couldn't help but look down at his hands. They weren't covered in fresh blood any longer, but they were still stained red.

… … …

… … …

The public hadn't been aware of Shinji's murder. Rather, it was assumed that he simply ran away, so a funeral wasn't held formally. Surprisingly, Sakura didn't even hold one for herself, though she did refuse to speak with Shirou for a good month. Eventually, she came around, though the beginning of their conversations were quite rocky for another month following. Memories of that initial confrontation still returned to him in the quiet of night, when his mind had nothing to focus on.

 _She didn't even speak. There were no words, though her eyes said more than her mouth ever could. She was judgement, proclaiming his guilt with a glare more damning than anything he had ever encountered. The pit of anticipation that had formed for this encounter grew several times heavier, becoming something crippling. He could only feel sorrow staring into those depressed, violet eyes._

 _This was the second time he had done something like this. The first time was with Luvia, where his attempt at doing her a favour by allowing her a chance to win in the Magus Tournament backfired and only made her hateful._

 _Why did his attempts at doing good always seem to end up making things so much worse? He opened his mouth to express his apologies, but he was silenced by a loud slap._

 _He had been struck. While it wasn't painful physically, it had done immeasurable damage to his already sorrow-filled mind. Straightening his head and peering down at the girl that had rapidly approached, everything else seemed to lose importance. There was only one goal, one objective for him to accomplish now: To stop the tears from crawling down her face._

" _I told you not to do anything and now look what's happened!" she cried with more emotion than he had ever heard from the girl. "You killed him, I can't-" Her voice failed to register, fading out as a sob coursed through her frame._

" _I thought-" he murmured, trying to justify his position._

" _You thought you were doing good, but you have no idea," she shot back, cutting him off. Pulling her hands back to her chest, her frame shook once more while she took a step back, staring at him as if he was a stranger. "It doesn't matter if he hit me, he was still the only thing I had that I could call family."_

 _He didn't know what to do, and he had no idea what would be the right move to make. He began apologizing, extending a hand toward her but when the girl visibly recoiled, he stopped himself and pulled back._

 _There wasn't any convincing her, he couldn't say anything that would take the pain away. He would just need to give her time, as difficult as it was to wait while she was hurting._

Even now, there were still moments where he caught that same fearful, saddened expression in her eyes. It was likely involuntary, but the fact that it existed in the first place still served as another reminder of his deed.

Spring came without any _major_ events, though it was fraught with minor things. Throughout the winter, Rin had worn strange gloves. If it had been a normal person, such a thing would have been far less intriguing, especially during the cold winter. Although Rin was far from a normal person. Tohsaka was a girl who wore thigh-highs and short skirts, regardless of the temperature. It was almost as if she were challenging the cold, facing it head-on with that stubborn nature of hers.

So why wear gloves? It was a question he had been asking ever since she first put them on, but he still had to find a concrete answer.

Something else had changed in Rin as well. It was something he picked up on in his basic visual tracing which became significantly more noticeable during his in-depth tracing whenever they happened to come in contact with one another. He couldn't tell what it was specifically, but it shared a similarity to Caren, of all people. He had isolated the change to her right hand, but since she was wearing gloves, he couldn't see it with his own eyes.

He had expected to be able to see the source of the abnormality when spring rolled around; when the gloves would come off. Unfortunately, that never happened. The gloves did come off, but they were replaced with bandages. The Tohsaka passed it off with some excuse, claiming to have injured her hand while performing an experiment in her workshop. He knew better of course. He could see that it wasn't a wound. Since it was Rin, he decided not to doubt her and took her words at face value.

Things could only get worse when Sakura decided to corner him one night when the house was empty. Illya actually went out on her own this time, having to handle some of her own personal business. Sakura asked him to do something he had been trying to avoid since day one and each time she asked, he grew more and more defiant. Eventually, when she realized he would not budge, the Matou broke down and explained her situation.

With tears in her eyes, the girl explained _everything_ to him. Shirou couldn't describe how he felt, but the closest word he could use was _mortification_. He had known from his father's journal that Sakura was inhabited by the same worms that made up Zouken and had come to peace with that unfortunate information years ago. What he didn't know was that she required an input of mana from an outside source to pacify the worms, else she would be devoured from the inside out.

More harrowing, was the thought that it had been _Shinji_ providing the mana for all these years. That information alone had been enough to wash the blood from his hands, crimson stain fading almost immediately. He was even more despicable than Shirou could have ever imagined. It was a good thing that he was gone now.

Shirou was all set to provide his "services" to help out when an idea had come to him at the last second. In his Clock Tower studies, he had learned of all the mediums used to transfer mana. _All_ bodily fluids worked, though some were significantly more efficient than others. Since spitting on Sakura was quite rude and semen was entirely off the table, the last option he had was _blood_. While not the most effective mana transferring fluid, it wasn't much for him to give blood, especially considering that Avalon helped to replace what he lost at an accelerated rate.

The girl seemed disappointed that he had a solution but dejectedly agreed to test it regardless. Slicing his wrist to draw blood felt a little strange, but considering the alternative, he was grateful to try anything.

Before long he had a glass of crimson fluid for her to try and was praying to whichever deity was gazing down on him that his hypothesis was correct. While she complained about the taste, the girl also pointed out that it had worked and that the impulse had died down. From that point on, it became something like clockwork where Shirou would give the Matou a dose of blood to appease the appetite of her parasites.

While shaky, things slowly returned to how they were when Shinji was alive. With spring came birds, flowers and the student exchange program, something that returned to bite Shirou square in the rear end. He had forgotten about his commitment entirely and when Issei broke the news to him one lunch period, he was understandably far from ready.

" _They'll be here next week."_

" _They?" Shirou shouted abruptly, nearly dropping a piece of food that he had intended to eat._

 _Issei nodded, pushing up his glasses as they had fallen partly down his nose. "There are two and they've come together."_

" _I only agreed because I thought there was one person, how am I going to be able to guide two people at once?" Shirou asked, regretting his kindness more and more._

 _Issei shrugged. "I'm sorry, Emiya, but you agreed and trying to find someone on such short notice now would be impossible. I was caught off guard as well as I had originally thought there would only be one."_

 _Shirou sighed and laid his head down on the table. "Why are they coming so late into the school year?"_

 _The council president shrugged. "Supposedly they had problems gathering immigration papers. From what I understand, they have already completed the equivalent term in their home country in advance. They'll merely be attending to become acquainted with the student body before beginning their education next year."_

Returning from his recollections, Shirou surveyed Homurahara High from the front gate, briefly turning back to catch sight of Sakura walking along the sidewalk. Catching sight of him, she approached and offered a respectful greeting. "You usually arrive earlier than me, why are you so late today, Senpai?"

The boy lifted a hand behind his head, flashing a soft smile. "Illya wanted a big breakfast today so I couldn't come as early as usual."

The two continued a pleasant conversation as they walked side by side into school. After preparing for the day at their lockers, they both said their farewells and carried on to their own classes.

As soon as Shirou settled into his desk, a sudden spike of anxiety hit him like a truck. If he was in charge of two new students, what kind of people would they be? Would he even be able to help out enough? He was so busy with the other elements in his life, could he really handle showing two more people around Fuyuki?

There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable and he couldn't stop thinking about what was still to come: the Grail War. This was his last year before everything would collectively hit the fan and it would soon be his last year in high school as well. So many important events were so near in the future.

What would he do after school? Would he try to be a normal person with a normal job? He was interested in law, but it felt like a waste of his abilities to neglect the magus path of his life. But what would he do if he _did_ follow the magus inside of him? Try to save every life on Earth?

It was noble but ultimately pointless. That was the goal his father had during his Grail War and he knew how that had turned out.

Speaking of the Grail War, he had no idea what was awaiting him but understood fully that very little of it was bound to be good. Rin, Sakura and Illya were all likely to be masters, but couldn't only one of them win? Would he have to kill each of them to destroy the Grail? This had to be a version of the prisoner's dilemma, he was sure of it.

A hand waved down in front of his face, snapping him from his musings. "I called your name three times, Emiya. You feeling alright?"

It was Mitsuzuri, displaying her familiar playful smirk. It had an infectious quality and before Shirou realized it, he was unconsciously smiling back. "Yeah I'm fine, just a little tired is all."

Mitsuzuri stood and seemed quite surprised. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard that from you, something must _really_ be wrong. Is it those two new exchange students we're getting? I heard that you'll be in charge of them." The girl gently ran her fingers along the surface of his desk, casually watching as he stumbled to get words from his brain out of his mouth.

"I guess I'm just nervous," was what he eventually settled on saying.

"Never heard _that_ before either," Mitsuzuri quickly added, grabbing his attention with a seriously concerned look. "You _sure_ you're fine?"

Shirou stared into her sharp bright eyes for a moment before smirking. "Yeah, don't worry about me." He would have been lying just moments ago, but after such a brief interaction with Mitsuzuri, his anxiety had washed away and he wasn't feeling half bad.

The girl shot him a sharp smile that had a challenging edge to it. "You should come down to the kyudo dojo before you cheer up too much. With your mind out of it I might be able to beat you now."

The two shared a brief laugh and an equally short exchange along the same playfully competitive lines. Shirou was almost caught off guard when Taiga screeched into class just as the bell to begin classes rang out. With a short laugh, the teacher energetically extended one hand skyward in victory, claiming to have made it on time. This happened more often than not if that could be believed.

Before actually starting the day, Taiga paused at the start to make an announcement regarding some important news. She went over everything Issei had already explained to him prior: two exchange students who didn't speak English would be attending school just to learn the language and acclimate themselves before fully joining school the following year.

Next, Taiga pointed a menacing finger in his direction, specifically labelling him as the exchange student's "guide". It directed the attention of everyone in the class. There were whispers and laughs that echoed around him and he caught one comment specifically. "I bet it'll be two good looking girls. What use does the fake janitor have for two more girls?"

While unexpected, he really should have planned for such a thing in advance. Taiga was Taiga after all. What he wasn't prepared for in the slightest, and what he would never have seen coming, was the two girls who stepped into his class that next moment.

One confident and proud, the next sheepish and unsure.

Rin was going to kill him.

… … …

… … …

"Don't hold your breath, focus on the target and watch the scope rise and fall with calm, steady breaths," the man whispered in her ear.

Following instructions, Missy focused on her own breathing in tandem with the rise and fall of the crosshair in her scope. She realized that there were moments where the sight remained still at the top and bottom of her breathing cycle and quickly understood what he wanted her to do before without him having to point it out.

"When you feel confident in firing, pull the trigger softly enough so that it comes as a surprise. Any slight jarring motions will disturb your shot," he murmured, voice retaining a cold but fatherly tone. "Try to aim for the heart, not the head. Even if your shot is off, you'll likely strike center mass and incapacitate the target enough to make a second."

Making notes of all his guidance, Missy was left in silence to finalize her shot. There were over eight hundred meters of distance between them, a range which made the men at the far end appear as small as ants. The Magus Killer had already set the ranging and accounted for wind, acting as her spotter so that the job would go smoothly. It was a mere matter of lining up the target and pulling the trigger now.

This time, they were in Nigeria, Africa, a place which was significantly more dry and hot than the other countries they had been to. Kiritsugu, like always, had briefed her on the flight over. They were here to eliminate the head of a guerrilla squadron just hours before a counter-strike by the country's military. According to Kiritsugu, if they took down the leader, the group would be too disorganized to mount a strong enough defence against the coming police force.

It was as good a plan as any, as if she would know any better. During her time beside him, she had come to admire the man. He always had his ear to the ground and seemed to be the first know of potential dangers popping up across the entire globe. With how often they were out taking down targets or clearing compounds, the two had quashed several groups of dangerous individuals long before their names were ever known to the public.

Returning to the task at hand, Missy concentrated on her breathing. On the apex of her inhale, she began to squeeze the trigger, unable to fire the rifle before the scope moved to the bottom of her breath. Listening to Kiritsugu's instructions, she continued squeezing the trigger lightly, only putting on more pressure at the top and bottom to keep the scope on target. When she reached the top of her inhale, the steadily advancing squeeze set the gun off, making her jump in surprise as the sound reached her ears.

"Watch through the scope, confirm your own contact," he mandated, keeping his eyes glued to a pair of rangefinders. Refocusing on the image in the scope, she barely had enough time to watch a small splatter of blood spew slightly left of center on her target. The man grasped at his chest, stumbled back to press up against a truck and then promptly collapsed onto his rear as strength abandoned him.

"Good placement," he murmured monotonously. "Finalize the kill, ensure he dies," he instructed, not moving so much as an inch from his position.

Hesitating a brief instance before obeying, Missy chambered a new round and prepared to take a new shot. People were crowding around the injured man at this point, some trying to move him to safety, others trying to evaluate his situation on the spot. The confusion gave her enough time to line up her shot. After the first shot, things began to feel more natural and fluid. It was as if she had practiced the shot a hundred times when she had only fired the gun once just moments prior. The next round went off, not even deriving a flinch from her.

Blinking as the recoil subsided, she focused on her target to find him certifiably dead, with a visible - albeit small - hole in his forehead. "Once you're certain the target is dead, the next step is to mobilize. Gunshots reveal your position and if you don't move, you'll be located. The more you fire, the easier it is to be found." Without telling her what to do, he began standing, moving further back to leave the area entirely.

Hastily taking down the bipod, the girl stood and slung the rifle onto her back, jogging to keep up to her mentor. "Are we leaving today, master?" she asked, occasionally checking the area around to ensure they were safe. It had taken them two hours to hike to the outlook from their truck and it would take them almost as much time to return. They would be able to cut a few minutes off that time, if only because they now knew the trail and they weren't trying to hide anymore.

"Tomorrow," he answered, explaining himself while retracing the path in his mind. "There's another job that needs doing, but this one will pit you against your first magus target."

"Me?" the girl asked, body twitching as she raised a hand to her chest. "Are you saying I'll be going alone?"

The man nodded. "There are times where you'll need to move independently without my assistance. In fact, I _need_ you to be capable of operating solo. Just stick to what I've taught you and remember the most important lesson about magi."

"To ensure their death, destroy the brain," Missy filled in, reaching behind herself to grab a pistol from her waist.

"That's right. Some magi are incredibly resilient and can survive seemingly fatal wounds. Extra care must be taken and since you're unable to use magecraft to destroy the bodies, double-tapping is our best alternative."

"Yes, master," the girl mumbled, checking the perimeter again for good measure. She hadn't been in this line of work for very long, but Kiritsugu had taught her so much regardless. She continued to receive small glimpses of her past with each bullet fired, though they were still difficult to piece together. It was as if she were watching a movie but for every frame she could see, dozens were missing.

There were things she now knew that she hadn't before at least. She had been in Fuyuki for a reason, she'd had a goal. She was looking for someone and had stumbled upon someone else in her search. Before coming to Fuyuki, she had been somewhere else. That somewhere else was _different_. There were children and another man who seemed familiar.

With the rise of memories, came conflict. Did she even want to remember her old life? Wouldn't that bring up feelings of regret and loss? It had been years since her new life began, what would all of the people in her old life think of her now? If those people were important to her, why hadn't they come looking?

"Missy?" Kiritsugu asked, snapping the girl out of her trance. "If you're not focused and prepared, there's no point in continuing with the mission, we'll head home right now."

The girl flinched and shook her head violently. "I'm sorry," she began, steeling her mind and focusing on the man ahead of her. "It won't happen again, let's continue."

… … …

… … …

"You _can't_ be serious," Rin exclaimed loudly, moving both hands to grip at the side of her head. " _Both_ of them?" She turned to put her back in his direction, twintails flickering in the wind on the roof. "Nobody has approached me, so they must still be sorting out where they're going to stay."

Shirou sighed and stared up scornfully to the sky. If there _was_ a divine deity up there, they were laughing at his misfortune. "It gets worse. I know why she's here." Moving his head back down, he caught the awaiting glare of the Tohsaka and continued. "She's here to kill my old man."

Rin blinked three times before snorting out a laugh. She started to speak but it was broken up by sudden bursting laughter, rendering her words indecipherable. She repeated herself twice, managing to make herself laugh even harder with each attempt. "She wants to _kill_ Kiritsugu?"

The boy let out a long sigh, admitting to himself that it was rather comical. "According to her, only old people retire and since he retired a couple decades ago, he's _really_ old now," Shirou recalled, remembering the conversation like it was yesterday. "Because she thinks he's old, she figures he'll be easy to kill. I think she wanted to kill him because he stole work from her family or something." He slowly turned his head and mumbled a question to himself aloud. "But why did she bring _her_ along as well?"

After her laughter subsided, the Tohsaka responded to his own personal question. "You said her name was Landry Hammon, right? Is she using her same nickname here as well?" He nodded in response and the Tohsaka adorned her trademarked thinking pose. "If Luvia is a magus worth her salt, she'll likely need an apprentice," lifting her head to look at him directly, she asked a question: "Did she have anyone following her around in the Clock Tower?"

Shirou scratched his head, trying to think if he saw anyone nearby Luvia at any point. "Not that I recall, we were pretty close then so I think I would have seen something."

"What do you mean, close?"

Focusing on Rin, he caught a very ominous sight. With her arms crossed underneath her chest and a threatening pout on her face, he knew he was treading on thin ice. "Nothing like you and I, she was just a friend."

With the Tohsaka's short jealous fuse lengthened somewhat, the girl turned up her nose and gained a righteous look. "If I see you gawking at her for longer than a second I'll have your head, Emiya," she threatened. When he agreed that such a thing wouldn't happen, the girl lowered her head and returning to thinking. "If that other girl, Lectra, was a low-ranking magus, Luvia might have taken her on as an apprentice. If her goal was to take on the Magus Killer, maybe she thought that she would need the extra help." The girl snapped her fingers, beaming down at him with great interest. "I'm forgetting the most important part: did they recognize you?"

Shirou shook his head. "I've changed quite a bit since then but they said I looked familiar. Lectra seemed skeptical but Luvia pointed out that my eyes were a different colour and she seemed to believe that."

Rin nodded. "Alright, good. So then it's just a matter of keeping them away from Kiritsugu. I don't think they'll ever be able to find him. I've never even seen him leave the house, let alone show his face in public."

Shirou frowned. "He's not a hermit, he leaves and walks around town when he wants, he just doesn't go looking for trouble."

"Well keep it that way. If you hold up your good little helper act, she'll never suspect you as his son and will search everywhere _but_ your house." Rin finished speaking almost as soon as the bell to end lunch rang. "By the way, how did you get away from them to come talk to me?"

Shirou sighed, recalling the awkward exchange. "I told them I had to talk with my girlfriend and gave them directions to a tourist-focused cafe just down the street." Rin's lips parted in confusion as her cheeks grew pink. Abruptly, she made a strange noise and turned away from him.

"W-well, that was quick thinking of you," she settled on. "I'm surprised they didn't see through your lie is all."

Rolling his eyes, Shirou smiled at the embarrassed girl. "Yeah I know, the thought of you and I being a couple is enough to make me sick too."

The rapid shift in emotions on the girl was _hilarious_. Though by the raging fury behind her eyes, he wasn't going to find it as funny in a few short moments. At least Avalon would stop the gandr from getting him _too_ sick.

… … …

… … …

"Shero~," Luvia sang, flamboyantly jogging forward before wrapping his arm up into her chest. Pulling him close, he awkwardly stumbled against her, giving the girl a strange look. He could tell that she was tugging him away but was trying to do so innocuously. "How is my favourite guide doing today?"

"Luvia, what are you doing?" he asked, speaking to her in Japanese rather than English. It was strange to be touched and handled in such a public area. Not even Rin or Sakura touched him in the direct gaze of the public, though it was more out of an ingrained cultural respect for one another's privacy than a disliking of the act. Public affection just wasn't as prominent in the East.

In something reminiscent of decent Japanese, the Edelfelt responded with something along the lines of: "The weekend was so long and I'm just excited to see you again!"

Behind him was the ominous growling of not one but _two_ women. "I swear if you don't get your hands off of him in two seconds I'll-"

"Senpai isn't a toy!" Sakura shouted, taking hold of his other arm and yanking him away. While Rin could at least restrain herself to communicate, Sakura appeared to be the more impulsive of the two.

As he looked between the two struggling girls, Rin joined Sakura and the duo quickly yanked him away from the Brit, taking a defensive hold of both of his arms in the middle of the hall. He felt like a gourmet steak being fought over by hungry lions. With a face smitten with shock, Luvia stealthily checked her surroundings with her eyes. She seemed to make a note of the people turning their head to look at them. Luvia had _never_ acted this way with him in the Clock Tower, what brought on such a drastic change in personality?

The blonde bombshell dramatically held both hands to her chest, appearing visibly distressed. She made a noise of mock hurt, casually making sure that other students were watching the exchange. "I'm shocked that the idol of Homurahara is so emotional!"

Shirou could practically hear Rin's teeth grinding away as she strained to keep her words in her throat. He felt sorry for her dentist. Like a hawk watching a meal from high in the sky, Tohsaka focused solely on the blonde ahead, disregarding all of the students who had started whispering around them. Before Tohsaka could open her mouth to spit what was likely scalding venom, Shirou struggled to pull his arms free but the action put attention on him. "Both of you can calm down, it's fine. Luvia just doesn't know any better since she's not from here."

Calming everyone down, he could have sworn that there was a glint in Luvia's eyes as she flickered her gaze between him and the Tohsaka.

Lectra suddenly appeared sprinting down the hall, reaching Luvia with a huff. "I make one phone call and you vanish on me to start making trouble," the girl spoke in English. In terms of learning Japanese, Lectra was incredibly one-sided. She could hear and understand spoken Japanese, but her reading, writing and speaking was horrendous, to say the least.

Turning her head to look at the girl, Luvia pouted. "I was bored waiting for you to finish gossiping with Flat. With how close you two have gotten over the last year, I'm surprised he didn't come with you."

The girl grew red in the face, turning her head away from the only two English-speaking people present. "Maybe you're just jealous because you're still single."

As the two began throwing increasingly scalding insults at one another, Rin jabbed at his back, gripping the back of his collar to pull him closer to her level. "These are the two you were so worried about? I can take her, just give me the chance and I'll have that cow crying all the way back to London."

His collar was yanked toward the other side, and Sakura's voice filled his other ear before he could respond to the first girl. "I don't want you hanging out with them anymore, Senpai."

He already felt as if he was being yanked in every direction on a regular basis, today seemed excessively tiresome. Pulling away from the two girls, he scowled and looked at everyone present. "Alright, I've had enough." Unexpectedly, he wrenched both arms free of the girls' grip, raising his hands in a calming motion. To sate everyone, he would have to be impartial as usual. "Can everyone just stop arguing? We all need to get along for the foreseeable future so let's just do that."

He caught Lectra squinting her eyes to give him a confused look. It was almost like she had caught something out of place, though she didn't speak out at the moment. "How do you plan on accomplishing that?" Rin asked dryly, rapidly assuming her _idol position_ after noticing the number of eyes on her.

"I haven't gotten that far, but I'll figure something out."

… … …

He didn't figure anything out.

Lectra was easy to get along with and was the easiest to handle. With her personality, she could befriend anyone if given enough time. It was Luvia who caused everything to turn hostile. Whenever she was in the proximity of Rin, the two gravitated toward one another and began combat, either physical or mental. There were at least a dozen occasions where they had to be forcibly separated by Shirou or Sakura. Even the teachers around Homurahara had taken note of their rivalry, keeping the two as far away from each other as physically possible.

It didn't take long for Shirou to see that those two simply _couldn't_ get along in the slightest. During the last month of the school year, Luvia had put cracks in the pedestal which held Rin's idol status.

To make matters worse, Luvia and Lectra were getting nosier, asking him all sorts of personal questions. They were likely developing a case on him to see if he was a potential suspect for interrogation about the location of the Magus Killer.

They had even asked to go over to his house, apparently catching word of the quality of his cooking after speaking with Sakura. At the very least, the Matou managed to get along with both Brits quite well, despite her jealousy regarding how much time he had to spend with them both. Perhaps it was a "keep your friends close and enemies closer" tactic.

In the first few days, he had learned from Rin that Luvia and Lectra were staying together in Fuyuki's well-known haunted house, though it had been remodelled and repaired extensively. Relaying the information, Kiritsugu had built upon his knowledge, explaining that a master in the Third Holy Grail War had been from the Edelfelt family. They had been sisters, using the innate ability of their family crest to summon two copies of a single servant. They had purchased two mansions in Fuyuki. One was in the heart of the city near the Tohsaka manor and the other was close to the Fuyuki Church. Both were considered haunted, though it was likely that Luvia had chosen the manor in the city to reside in. It explained why Rin was never contacted. Since the Edelfelt family already owned a workshop in Fuyuki, there was no need to notify the Second Owner or ask for permission.

"That dumb cow, I can't believe she'd pull a stunt like this." Rin's sudden outburst popped his concentration, prompting him to look toward her with some concern. The two were back on the roof eating lunch once again, though the Tohsaka seemed significantly more sour than usual. Thankfully he could still have this time alone with Rin, though he had to have lunch with Luvia and Lectra every other day as well.

"What did she do this time?"

Rin had a deep scowl on her face and one hand positioned on her hips. It was a sign that she was prepared to assault the next person to so much as breath in her general direction. "That _cow_ told everyone in my class that my family name sounds like something else entirely in English."

There was a moment of confusion before Shirou had to suppress a laugh at the prospect. He knew exactly what sort of conclusion Luvia had made, but he wanted to hear Rin say it aloud himself. Barring his amusement as much as he could, he asked, "What does she think it sounds like?"

Rin turned around to face him, blazing fire in her aqua eyes. " _Toe-sucker_ ," she spat with anger.

At that point, Shirou couldn't hold it anymore and he burst out with laughter, much to her displeasure. Rin's face darkened several shades until it nearly matched the colour of her uniform's tie. "S-she isn't right, is she? That's not what it sounds like to English people, right?" Shirou couldn't even make a coherent response, his laughter too powerful to form proper words. "You big dummy, answer me!"

… … ...

… … …

"Have you noticed anything _odd_ about Shirou?" Lectra asked, stuffing both hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

"Odd? How do you mean?" Luvia asked, giving her apprentice a questioning look.

Lectra shrugged, casting her gaze down to her feet. "I dunno really, but we've been searching this entire town for magi since we arrived and haven't found anything, not even residual mana traces-"

"So you're saying he's not here?" the blonde suddenly interjected.

Lectra shook her head with a frown before continuing. " _Someone_ is definitely here. All of the ether clumps I've sent out have died at random times by some mysterious force. It's like they've turned off because the feedback I was receiving just vanishes. At the same time, the mana doesn't return to me either. It's like they're being devoured instead of dispelled."

The girl stopped, an action which brought their gaze to one another. "So you agree that we should keep looking then? What you describe sounds like something the Magus Killer would do to protect himself, I'm sure of it."

Lectra stared into the girl's burgundy eyes, tightening her lips before sighing. "Yeah we should keep looking, but I still want to talk about Shirou." The girl resumed walking the path toward the manor, hearing a giggle from behind.

"I don't think Flat would be alright with you dating another boy, in a new country no less," she teased.

"It's not that, not at all," she defended. "I'm more than happy with Flat a-" she paused, blinking as she realized what Luvia was doing. "Stop going off subject! Haven't you noticed that Shirou seems kind of similar to Blade?" she asked, finally getting her concern across.

There was a long period of silence that made her wonder if Luvia had spontaneously died. "You thought so too, huh?" she finally asked, making a short jog so he could resume walking side by side. "I thought it was just me. While he wore a mask, his hair looks pretty much the same and even his eyes are similar. I don't really remember his voice that clearly, is it close?"

Lectra nodded, comparing the man she knew then and the man she believed him to be now. "I think it's the same. There might be a little more emotion in it now, but he could have been altering it then."

"What about the fact that he's not a magus?" Luvia asked, raising a good point.

"You wouldn't have known that Blade was a magus either. Neither one had a detectable signal that I could see like most other magi. I can tell Rin is a magus just on a glance, in fact, she might be more powerful than you are."

The blonde made a _tsk_ noise. "Fat chance. I could take her on with both hands tied behind my back. It's good to hear that you're making use of those textbooks I gave you at least."

Lectra rolled her eyes. Luvia had claimed that she could do something similar with Blade just last year though after watching the man in combat time and time again, Lectra knew quite well who would _actually_ win that fight. "Anyway, we need more information before we can start accusing him. Our main priority should be finding out if he's a magus, or visiting his house, whichever has an opportunity to come first."

"The odds that Shirou is a magus are pretty high. From what I could dig up on the Tohsaka family, they're a pretty well-respected influential group in Fuyuki. I can't see why the current head would be dating a normal human," the Edelfelt reasoned.

"Maybe she's just keeping up appearances. You know, a cover story. That's why we'd probably learn more if we could get invited to his house."

Luvia made a noise of confusion. "What would visiting his house do for us?"

"Sakura always says he's an amazing cook," she blurted out, growling stomach getting the better of her. "Besides that, she also told me that he has a father _and_ a sister. While I looked through the school records, I couldn't find anything. Not even the students in Shirou's class really remember her, though they know she attended and graduated."

Without even looking, Lectra could hear the smile on her partner's face. "I knew it was a good idea to take you on as my apprentice. I distract Rin and Shirou while you get friendly with the people and find clues. I'm chuffed, we make such a good team."

"Just remember our deal. I'll help you so long as you help me."

"I haven't forgotten and I'll hold true to my word," Luvia assured, turning her head as the Edelfelt manor came into view. "As soon as the Magus Killer is dead, I'll give you whatever you need."

Lectra let out a breath of air before forcing an uneasy smile on her face. She was purely riding on faith, but Luvia seemed rather trustworthy. "Where did you want to eat today?"

The blonde whipped around on the spot with a beaming face nearly as bright as Lectra's own. "Apparently there's only one Chinese restaurant in Fuyuki and it's got some of the best mapo tofu around."

Lectra made an appreciative hum. "I don't think I've ever had that, is it spicy? I don't really like spicy food that much."

Luvia waved one hand. "It's a little spicy but not too bad. I've had it a few times back in Britain but this should be something special." Lectra hummed, considering her options before eventually deciding to give it a try.

How spicy could it be?

… … …

… … …

"Why did you want to go out to eat today of all days?" Shirou asked, more curious than irritated. "You know I can just cook whatever it is you want, right?"

The priestess shrugged her frail shoulders, keeping her eyes forward while she responded. "I've heard good reviews of a Chinese restaurant but I do not know where it is."

He hummed thoughtfully, recalling the name of the only Chinese restaurant in Fuyuki. _Koushuuensaikan Taizan_ , a joint run by a single woman named Batsu, someone who was known to beat the men clueless enough to try flirting with her with a wooden spoon. Neko claimed its food to be heavenly. Although, with her favouritism of all things spicy, he could tell his mouth was in for something hellish. "Well, if that's what you want then there's no point in refusing."

Caren nodded stiffly before stating that he was learning in a very bland tone.

Smirking, he threw his gaze upward to read the nearby store signs, spotting the one he wanted within a few seconds. He guided the two of them into the building, surprised to find it decorated in full authentic Chinese fashion. Visually tracing the various decorations, he found that each and every one was imported and no expense had been spared on their construction - something that couldn't be said for most products imported from China.

The store was relatively simple despite the fine decor. Paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, oriental wallpaper and a surprising amount of greenery. There were six tables in the entire restaurant, though only two were filled. At the far back wall sat a doorway leading into the kitchen and a large rectangular viewing window, through which Shirou could see the cook and hostess, Batsu.

Upon realizing that another customer had arrived, she immediately moved from the kitchen to offer a bright greeting, preparing two menus and gesturing them toward a table.

With incredible hospitality, the girl explained the daily special - dumplings and chow mein - before taking their drink requests. Both had requested water, and were left with some time to decide on their order.

Shirou only just began to read when Caren set her menu down and confidently murmured, "Mapo tofu." Taken aback, Shirou rapidly read through the menu items before deciding to take on the restaurant's most famous dish as well.

While waiting for Batsu to return, Shirou made small talk with the miniature priestess, hearing much of the same dialogue as always. She was always doing fine, she never witnessed anything interesting and her sermon was always completed without a hitch. After asking her the same questions and gathering the same answers, it had become more of a formality than anything.

As he was about to ask another question, the girl focused on something over his shoulder. With his back toward the entrance, he had to turn to see what she was interested in. He spotted Luvia and Lectra almost immediately and the two made note of him just as quick. They both raised their hand and adorned smiles to offer a friendly greeting, steadily approaching their table only to be intercepted by Batsu as she placed drinks in front of Shirou and Caren.

Batsu gave an inviting greeting to the two girls, quickly asking if they were intending to join the table Shirou was at. Luvia agreed in the time it took Shirou to open his mouth, deciding on his behalf. Repeating the process she had gone through with Shirou and Caren, Batsu took drink orders and was about to offer the newcomers menus when they both kindly explained that their orders had already been decided.

Everyone was having mapo tofu, though given that it was practically famous from there, it was far from unexpected. Only Caren was brave enough to take on Batsu's offer of having it made "extra spicy".

Once the hostess had left, Luvia immediately cast a look toward Shirou. The table sat four and when they had arrived, Caren and Shirou took the outside two across from one another. When Luvia and Lectra arrived, the two had moved in, with Luvia beside him and Lectra beside Caren. "Would you care to introduce us, Shero?"

Glancing between the girl and Caren herself, Shirou quickly developed a cover. Hopefully, he could still lie to Luvia and Lectra without a mask. "She's my sister," he stated while doing his best to keep his expression locked.

Caren flinched visibly, eyes widening before her face changed to take on a thoughtful expression. "Shirou's sister," she mumbled softly, voice barely audible even to Shirou. Thankfully, the other two girls were focused on him so they missed the reaction.

Luvia turned to examine the priestess, who caught the Edelfelt's eyes with equal intensity. "I'm Shirou's sister, Caren Emiya."

Surprised that she was committing to the ruse so well, Caren took over answering questions. The questions were far from unexpected. They featured basic detail gathering and small talk.

"So are Shirou's meals as good as Sakura and Rin say they are?" Luvia asked, squinting inquisitively at the priestess.

The girl nodded softly. "My brother is the best cook, I have never had meals as good as his." The neutral, impassive tone could have easily been mistaken for sincerity and thankfully for Shirou, that was exactly what the other two girls took it as.

"So all the rumours are true. Seems like you're quite the host, Shero. So why haven't _we_ gotten an invitation? Are we not good enough?" Luvia went full on the victim offensive, forcing him to raise his hands in mock defence.

"Hey, it's nothing like that! You're both smart girls but I've just been really busy with other stuff, you know?" He smiled, but it was more out of nerves than genuine amusement. No matter what, he couldn't let these girls weasel their way into an invitation, the risk of either one discovering something was too great.

Before either one could start begging and pleading, Batsu stepped out of the kitchen door with arms full of equally appetizing, steaming dishes. With considerable finesse, the girl deposited a plate in front of each of them. They all appeared similar, though there was significantly more red chilis coating Caren's meal.

On the first inhale through his nose, he understood that this was going to be a painful experience. As the scent of expertly prepared food reached the sensitive olfactory organ, his senses exploded from the raw spiciness in the air alone. He got similar vibes from the two other girls as he panned the table. This was certainly going to be interesting.

… … ...

Comparing the sensation in his mouth to anything known was impossible. There wasn't a heat in the world that could be likened to the entire mouth incineration. Each exhale felt as if he were breathing raw flames. On the backs of his jaw below each ear, tingling, persistent agony reminded him of his foolish mistake.

Not wanting to waste food, he had finished the entire plate and that had been the true mistake. Sweat was profusely dripping from his head and there wasn't enough water in the world to calm the inferno that dominated all of his senses.

Luvia and Lectra weren't handling it any better, though Lectra was crying and making silent prayers, so she was definitely handling it worse. The two still had half a plate of food left each, though it was obvious that they were in no condition to finish it.

Caren, on the other hand, appeared no different than usual. Her cheeks were red and there were beads of sweat rolling down her forehead but otherwise, she was completely fine.

Only the rest of them were snivelling messes, sweating, snotting and crying over their mistake. "That was good," Caren stated softly, looking at the other pained faces around the table.

With various levels of pain in their voices, everyone still agreed. While overwhelmingly spicy, it was _delicious_. In fact, that was part of the problem. Because it was so tasty, it was practically additive. After the first bite, the taste lured everyone in to consume more despite the raging flame in their mouth.

"I can't feel my tongue," Lectra whimpered, planting her forehead on the table.

Luvia laid one hand on the back of the girl's head, weakly collapsing her upper half onto the table as well. "Stay strong, you can make it through this!" Straining to get such inspiration out, it seemed to be Luvia's last attempts at helping someone before she perished to the blaze herself.

Casting a pained expression toward the priestess, Shirou asked why the girl could handle such extreme spice so easily. The girl looked down at her clean plate with a simple expression. "It was quite spicy, but not the spiciest I've eaten."

There was a cry of shock from behind in the kitchen. Turning toward the source, Shirou watched an incredibly agitated Batsu storm from the kitchen, pointing a wooden spoon ominously at the priestess. "Not spicy enough? I was taking it easy since you looked a little young, but if you come back next time I'll show you!"

Reeling back from the sudden outburst, the hostess wore a smile and looked at her suffering customers. "I'm glad you all enjoyed the meal, would you like the bill now?"

After recovering some more, Luvia and Shirou both elected to split the bill in half, paying for each of their respective guests. After leaving the restaurant, Shirou and Caren said their farewells and split away from the other group.

A few steps away, Caren snapped up to grip at his hand. She was really committing to this "sister" thing, wasn't she? Since he was still in eyeshot, he decided not to make a scene though he did point it out after rounding the corner.

"Thanks for helping out and covering for my lie. You can let go of my hand now," he explained, surprised when she silently refused, actually tightening her grip instead.

"You said I was your sister," the girl stated blandly.

Shirou opened his mouth to speak, to deny the comment and explain that it was a lie but his heart stopped him prematurely. Caren was just a sad lonely little girl, he couldn't deny her something so small but so comforting. "Alright, alright you can be my little sister. Just don't let Illya hear that or she'll probably kill me, okay?"

Caren turned her head to beam up at him, soft smile on her face as she offered a stern nod. He had to admit, her joy was infectious. "When we get home, we can continue to work on our plan."

He couldn't help but feel a rapid pang of sadness. She was referring to their partly assembled plan to rescue Sakura from the clutches of Zouken. Together, along with Kiritsugu, the trio had established the barest framework of what would be required to pull it off.

The priority was getting Sakura to Caren with enough time for the priestess to perform a purification ritual without the vile worm noticing. Zouken wasn't a stupid man and after almost losing the girl once, he had undoubtedly installed a "self-destruct" switch inside Sakura. With that fact in mind, it was difficult to develop a plan that could work. Hopefully, with the Magus Killer on their side, they could put something together that could work. Thankfully, the man in question had just returned from his trip with Missy. Once again, Shirou was left in the dark and clueless on where they went. Considering how often the two went on these trips nowadays, he had gotten used to it.

It didn't take long for the duo to arrive at the Emiya house. Caren held his hand the entire way, separating only when they passed the door to the front gate of the estate. Entering and settling down in the kitchen, Missy served the dinner she had been working on while the remaining members around the table tried to work around the supposed "self-destruct switch".

Caren explained that she would need two hours to cleanse Sakura's body of worms and that time would need to be completely uninterrupted. The problem lay with finding a way to distract the old worm for that time, something they rapidly realized was impossible. There was no way that a single person could take on Zouken for two hours.

After beating their heads against the metaphorical wall for hours, Kirtisugu moved on to a more tangible subject: The Holy Grail War. Seeing as how Caren would act as the mediator for this year, she was the best person to speak with. Beyond confirming the fact that it was to take place in the coming winter, she revealed no more information, regardless of Kiritsugu's attempts at prying and extraction.

Contemplating the coming War, Shirou came to a grand conclusion. Immediately he went to work explaining what was going off in his mind, laying the framework of a plan where the success of Sakura's rescue hinged on a single circumstance - the Holy Grail War.

It was shaky to start, and the boy could see in his old man's face that it came across as impossible, but as Shirou finalized his musings and polished off the idea, the two male Emiyas came to a similar conclusion:

"This could work."

… … …

… … …

It was quiet here, standing amidst the blades. There were so many more of them now than there were when this type of dream began. There were now hundreds of weapons he had gained over the past few years. He had finally amassed something resembling a collection, enough so that there were weapons in his view regardless of where he looked.

He was in his own mind again. That far, distant place only accessible in his dreams. How could he remember each time he came to this land while simultaneously being unable to understand what it even was when he awoke?

This had been going on for years, these dreams, so why couldn't he recount a single occasion with absolute certainty when he was awake? It was like the Shirou he was here and the Shirou he was in the real world were two entirely separate people. There was so much loss here, so much suffering and regret that it became crushing. When that blackened figure appeared, the effect was only amplified, guilty sadness becoming something physical and impossible to breathe in. They had fought at length, over and over, conducting endless battles until he awoke, unable to remember a thing.

Peering down, he examined the black and white swords in his hands. They were so familiar, eerily so, yet each one was more distant than he could comprehend. Of all the things he forgot upon awakening, how could he forget something that seemed so natural?

The swords faded into blue sparks, hand clenching into fists as he recalled that ominous line spoken to him by a mysterious old man. " _Sweet dreams_."

Shirou still didn't really understand who the man was but he was obviously quite powerful. Either the man had a hand in causing these dreams, or he was causing them himself directly.

Why couldn't he just go back to wandering through the Great Fire? At the very least, that dream was simple and familiar, something known. The land he was in now was foreign, obscure and it gave him the sensation of dread.

Everything was confusing in this world. It was absolutely foreign but there was a persistent feeling of deja vu. He had been here, he was here, and he would return here again. How long had he been walking into the horizon? He had started when the dream began, but at this point, it felt closer to weeks. Turning around, he spotted that familiar clay hill. Regardless of how far he walked or in what direction, the hill was always the same distance away. Gazing further up, the shadowy figure perched upon its apex stared back at him, weapons in hand. That _thing_ was always here too and it seemed to have a singular purpose - to kill _him_.

Shirou had tried conversing with it before to no avail. It broke through any sort of imprisonment and shattered every single weapon he created with a single strike. It was the ultimate unstoppable force, an inevitability. How many times had he died to that ominous being?

Deciding to get this nightmare over with and wake up, Shirou turned and took a step toward his fate. As his foot hit the ground, everything suddenly melted away, changing colour and coalescing into a new scene entirely.

He was no longer on that baked clay plane. He was somewhere else entirely, an expansive, dimly lit room which featured several dead bodies. The two different uniforms revealed that this had been a team-based battle, though they had all died regardless. Shirou had never seen such an area in his life and that did little to calm the foreboding sensation in the back of his mind.

It was dark, but a pit up ahead was producing a strong blue light from within, bathing the area just enough for him to see. The area was industrial, with concrete floors and steel handrails making up the edges of pathways. Between these walkways, were large, deep channels filled with flowing water. These channels extended to connect to the large basin, the same basin which was producing the only light in the room.

Shirou had seen something like this before in science class. Thinking back, he realized exactly where he was. This was the chamber of a nuclear reactor and the blue light signified that it was _running_.

Why was he here? What sort of connection did he have to his place, and how could he see it so clearly, even in a dream?

Then he saw the reason. One of the bodies was moving, struggling to hold onto their last scrap of life in a vain attempt at surviving. They wore a bomber jacket and a tactical rig, though both were covered in droplets of blood. This was obviously in a cold region of the world. It was a man, a man with reddish-orange hair in a careless style, freely floating on top of his head. Shirou knew it was himself, but it wasn't the version of himself he knew. This version was similar to his younger self, so what was going on here?

The dream Shirou was on death's door. Rivulets of blood streamed down the sides of his head and one eye was swollen closed. Those wounds were superfluous compared to the bullet holes in his arm and chest.

Not even Avalon could heal _that_ quickly, though it would likely prolong his dream version's suffering by a few minutes. Shirou's copy managed to reach the railing just before the large reactor pool. The redhead collapsed over it, panting heavily as his lower half gave out entirely.

The real Shirou - though who was he to claim to be the _real_ Shirou? - watched from a distance, as his doppelganger struggled to move. Both of them snapped their heads up as a blast of energy washed over the area. Blue mana-charged fog rapidly dominated the area, condensing high in the sky above the pool almost as rapidly as it had appeared. The orb was surrounded by two thin concentric rings which rotated around the orb in random unpredictable ways. Every piece was made of a pure form of mana, something foreign to him personally, but eerily natural in the moment.

It was beautiful, it was impossible, it _spoke._ While it didn't speak any language, Shirou understood the _deal_ it was making clearly even without words: It would give him the power required to shut down the reactor and save millions, and in exchange, it would claim his life after death and turn him into a Counter Guardian.

The real Shirou knew what a Counter Guardian was, well. Rin had told him and it was even spoken about at the Clock Tower. They were a silent force of the " _Will of the World_ ", acting as a deterrent against those who would bring about the extinction of either the Earth or humanity.

Evidence from the past told a grim story. Wherever a Counter Guardian went, nothing but craters remained. It became clear that the World cared little about the fidelity of innocent or guilty, deciding to lump every individual together only to annihilate them all with impunity. It was barbaric and cruel, effective but inhumane. Something only Kiritsugu could condone, if only because it would save more than it would kill.

Becoming one of those _things_ would help him save more lives in total, but what of the innocent lives he ended? What if his family did something to incite the wrath of a Counter Guardian? Counter Guardians, like Heroic Spirits, were timeless. Who was to say the World wouldn't play a spiteful trick and send a copy of _him_ to kill his own family?

Suddenly, like clawing hands from the depths of hell, thin blue wires similar to Illya's Engel Note crept from the blue orb. This wouldn't have been concerning if they only reached the dream Shirou, but they were after _him_ too. He tried to move, but found both his legs were cemented firmly to the ground; there was no escape. As the creeping fingers of the orb contacted his body, they rapidly spider-webbed across his form, covering him in visible wiring.

He felt warm and connected to something that was on an entirely different level. It demanded an answer and drew it from his lips without his consent, drawing from his truest desire. "No, I won't do it. I won't pose a risk to my family," he claimed.

Then the dream Shirou spoke, voice equally as confident and brimming with truth. "I'll do it if it means no one has to cry."

An ominous noise sounded while the dream Shirou was covered in a blue aura. His wounds were healed and his body restored while the tendrils attached to the real Shirou receded as if he were cursed.

While the blue tendrils returned to the orb, the scene ahead of him grew distant, like he was being yanked through space and time away from the area. As the darkened room became blurred with bleary white, his name was softly called out and there was something warm on his cheeks.

… … …

"Shirou, wake up you dummy!" Illya chided, gripping onto the sides of his face with both hands. If he didn't wake up soon, she was going to have to slap him. Thankfully, her shouting in his face finally stirred something up in that paste behind his eyes.

His eyelids fluttered open and he drearily focused on her face. "You slept in, you're going to be late for school," she explained, and the prospect got him moving immediately.

In fact, he moved _too fast_. Illya had been sitting on his stomach and the thought of being late for school sent him lunging from his futon without a care for those around him. The featherweight girl was quite literally thrown away as the boy prepared for school.

Thankfully, since there was a king-sized futon around them, her landing wasn't too hard, though it was painful nonetheless. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" he called out, rifling through the dresser nearby for clothes.

Illya scowled while rubbing her rump to ease away the soreness. "I just woke up a minute ago. I don't really set an alarm for school anymore since I don't have to go."

The boy made a growling noise of defeat, finding the clothes he would wear for the day only to snap his head back to look at her with a demonic look of fury. The girl stiffened but understood what he wanted. Obediently, she turned her head away so he could dress. "Today of all days. Sakura is at her house so she couldn't be here to wake me up, Rin hasn't visited in weeks and to make things worse, Lectra and Luvia expect me to meet them in front of the schoolyard right about now."

Illya drowned out the complaints, casually turning her head to lecherously sneak peeks at Shirou. They weren't _really_ siblings, so it was okay if-

 _No! Bad Illya!_

The mental shout snapped her body to attention, head-turning to look in the opposite direction in an attempt to drive the thoughts away. Not only did he have _two_ girlfriends already, they were brother and sister. She couldn't possibly see her feelings being reciprocated, or see him having the time to deal with her on top of the others.

No, her attention needed to be focused elsewhere, like teasing Caren. Illya would never claim to be a kind soul or even a good person. For some inexplicable reason, it was just _fun_ to see people jealous. While flaunting how good life was with her family to a lonely priestess might have seemed cruel to most, Illya couldn't help but enjoy it. Illya could tell in subtle ways that the priestess was unspeakably jealous of Illya's own position.

A thought came across Illya's mind. "Don't you have an alarm clock to prevent things like this?"

Feeling his eyes searing into the side of her skull, she immediately regretted asking the question. "Once upon a time I _did_ , but one morning it went off when I slept in and you demolished it with Degen!"

Illya deflated, silently remembering that she had done exactly that. "That was because it went off at six in the morning and I was really tired."

"Look at where it got us now," he mumbled moving toward the door. "Well, at least you get to feel the consequences too. I won't be able to make you breakfast so you'll either have to go without or beg Missy to make you something."

Illya gaped toward the door as Shirou opened it to leave. "But Shirou -!"

"No buts, I don't have any time!" Before she could say another word, the boy was out of the door and on his way. Defeated, the girl collapsed forward onto the futon sheets and groaned loudly. Missy already did so much around the house and was so busy going on trips with Kiritsugu that it felt rude to ask that she do _more_ just for her. She was the one woman Illya actually felt bad for. Though she couldn't tell whether it was because of her amnesiac state or because she seemed genuinely pleasant without a hint of forced politeness like Rin. She was similar to Rin's mother, Aoi in that way, though Aoi seemed to exude a strange emotion that reminded Illya of her own mother.

The thought of her mother sent Illya down a winding path through fond memories of Iri and Kiritsugu back in Germany. It all seemed so far away now, a mere fraction of her life, but each memory held so much weight.

Illya would have been lying if she claimed that she didn't miss her mother. There wasn't a day that went by without looking at her father and imagining her standing beside him, smiling in that warm way she always did. Illya could almost feel her mother watching over her, even now.

Her father's persistent sad smile only made her heartache, if only because she knew why it appeared the way it did. He had lost so much and had hurt more than Illya ever had without Iri. Even though he never said it aloud, she knew why he hadn't tried to find someone else.

There simply wasn't anyone alive who could compare to Iri in his mind, and Illya could understand where he came from considering she felt the same way. Letting out a long breath into the covers beneath her, a sudden full-body pain made her gasp. All the strength in her body faded at once and she collapsed onto the soft surface, struggling to move at all as the sensation of electrocution even cut off her ability to make noise.

What was happening?

… … …

"Daddy?" rang a soft voice from the hall.

"Yes, princess? Did you need something?"

"I'm not sure, I don't know what to do about this."

Lifting his head from his desk, he spotted Illya standing in the doorway, holding her hand out in front of her face while closely examining something on the backside. Immediately he knew what the problem was and his heart sank into the abyss. "They're command seals, aren't they?"

The girl meekly nodded, turning her right hand over so he could see the back of it. Clearly emblazoned on her hand was a strange symbol. It was tribalistic but intricate, with arching spikes, unlike any other seal he had seen before. It wasn't even similar to his own, though that was far from unexpected. "I'm pretty sure."

"While it's not much of a surprise, you've officially been chosen by the Grail as a master in the coming War," He gestured for her to come closer, leaning forward in his chair and patting the top of her head when she was within range.

With a scowl, the girl asked her next question. "Rin and Sakura will be masters too, right?"

He nodded, offering his daughter a sad smile. "Unfortunately, yes. Each one of you is the head of a founding family. Three masters in every War are always decided in advance by the Grail. The remaining four will be picked seemingly at random, however, it's more than likely that the Mage's Association will have a master already picked out in advance."

"So it could pick Shirou?" she asked, looking over her hand several times.

Kiritsugu had no desire to answer that question. He knew quite well that his son would be a master, it was revealed to him years ago and by a man who was certifiably the best source for that type of information. To make things worse, he couldn't lie to Illya without being caught either. "The Grail could choose anyone to be a master. It could choose me _or_ Shirou. So long as the person is a magus, they have a chance."

"But I don't want to hurt Shirou," she huffed.

The Magus Killer's saddened smile grew a shade more depressed. "Hopefully you won't have to. If he's not selected, you have nothing to worry about. Even if he is chosen, the two of you can work together to claim the Grail."

The girl looked up at him, concern plain as day in her crimson eyes. Despite how much she had grown, she was still her father's little girl. "We'll work together as a family then."

He nodded softly, maintaining his sad smile as he withdrew his hand. As he did, Illya scrunched up her face, suddenly reaching out to take hold and look the appendage over. "Did you burn yourself?"

Examining the back of his own right hand, he could see the blotchy, reddish patches which resembled scalded flesh, in that way he could see how Illya came to such a conclusion. What he saw was something much different, something more familiar and infinitely more concerning.

His old command seals.

* * *

 **Howdy, all! It's been a long time for an update. This time it _wasn't_ me though, so you can't be mad at me! Anyway, the Holy Grail War is almost upon us and things are starting to get heated. Get prepared for an unexpected Grail War which is sure to be _Unbalanced_ , though likely not in the way you might think :}**

 **Remember to favourite, follow and leave a review! And thank my beta, Talndir for continuing to help out when he can!**


	22. Like Father Like Son

**EDIT:** **Stained glass, the red kind, used to be made of gold! In the past, glassmakers would sprinkle fine gold dust on the glass to produce wine red and violet stained glass. Nowadays we use copper to produce better shades, but think about how much money was spent on those ancient churches with their stained red glass.**

 **Hello all! I have some bad news, but in case you want to skip these intro notes, I'll be posting the same news at the bottom (Just to make sure nobody is caught off guard)**

 **Before that though, I'd like to shout out a reader named** **nandro** **for getting us to the 500th follower milestone! Halfway to a thousand, hopefully on the fast track now!**

 **I would also like to shout out** **myself** **, for producing a brand new short story inspired by your contributions to my straw poll (** www .strawpoll .me/18129592 **). The first two chapters for "Fate: Edge of Eternity" have been released as of posting and I might consider writing a prologue for "Fate: Child of Swords" but only if it gets more votes!**

 **Give Fate: EoE a read and see if you enjoy it!**

 **Don't be mad at me for the late chapter update - in fact, don't be mad at anyone! My beta works just as hard as I do but he gets busy like anyone else. I've got the next chapter done for both EoE and Fate:US**

 **As for the bad news: My laptop is dying. I've done everything I can to save it, reformatting the drive three times but there's a problem in the hardware that I just can't fix. I don't know how long it'll last, and it's lasted for this long, but if I don't make a post for a while - you know what has happened. There's nothing I'd like to do more than buy a new one and get on with writing for you all, but uni is coming up again and I just don't have the money. It's unfortunate, but stuff happens. I'll do my best to keep putting out content for you, but should my laptop finally bite the bucket, I'll be forced to write from mobile, something which could delay new chapters by a month at the minimum.**

 **With that depressing bit over, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

It was finally coming together. The Holy Grail War was rearing its ugly head and there was nothing Shirou could do to stop it. It was threatening to him, though rightfully so considering he had so much to lose and so little to gain. He could lose his friends and _family_. The one thing he had worked so hard to protect could slip straight through his fingers in an instant.

Illya had command seals which meant she was a certified master. The information was more concerning than he had anticipated. His tracing identified the command seals, recognizing their makeup and adding it to a stored database within his mind. It immediately made comparisons to two specific people, Caren and Rin.

They both shared similar symbols and at that moment, everything was perfectly clear. Rin also had command seals and had been hiding them from him for some time - but what sort of explanation was there for Caren's command seals? She was the impartial mediator for the coming War. According to Kiritsugu, the extra unused command seals would have vanished with Risei, though that didn't seem to be the case.

"So what do we do now? Do I have to hide these under gloves?" Illya asked, looking over the symbols on her hand for the dozenth time.

Kiritsugu shook his head. "It would be useless at this point. Something like that would be deviating from the norm and tip anyone that has a brain off. It's a drastic change that wouldn't go unnoticed."

Shirou lowered his head, saddened by his father's indirect insulting. "Rin started wearing gloves a couple of months ago and I didn't think anything was wrong," he mumbled, getting a muffled giggle out of Illya.

Kiritsugu blinked awkwardly at the boy before clearing his throat. "It may be a more effective tactic than I had originally thought. Regardless, it is still unnecessary. As Illya is an Einzbern, it is expected that she be a master. If Rin started wearing gloves, it's safe to assume she had acquired her command seals as well."

Shirou contributed more information. "I've traced both Rin and Caren and they have the same signature as Illya. That means they're both masters, right?"

The Magus Killer nodded, humming in thought for a moment. "I believe so, yes. It's odd that the mediator for this year's war would also be a participant, although stranger things have happened. So the command seals leave a verifiable signal you can detect. If you ever come across another master, we'll know - that's very good."

"Because knowing who we'll be up against is one of the most valuable pieces of information, right?" Shirou asked, getting a nod from Kiritsugu.

"If we know our opponents, we can plan against them and make our victory assured."

"We don't have to kill Rin and Sakura though, do we?" Illya asked hesitantly, looking at her father with concern.

The man offered a long, serious stare in response. "It's not a requirement, however, if they prove unyielding, that may change."

Shirou let out a long breath, closing his eyes and reconsidering the information. "So they either work with us or they'll have to be dealt with. I don't know if I can do that," Shirou admitted, opening his eyes to reveal his worry.

Kiritsugu maintained a cold face, staring through his son rather than at him. "Then it will just have to be done for you."

… … …

… … …

Beads of sweat made gentle pats on the soft tatami of the dojo. He had pushed himself harder than he should have, but with the most difficult trial of his life rapidly approaching, every one of his limits would soon be tested.

His arms were quivering, but he had set a goal and he would reach it no matter what. Five full minutes in a handstand, trying to perform as many press-ups in that time. It was the last challenge in a long list and after wearing down his body the entire afternoon, this was definitely the hardest.

Five minutes passed by in a mental count, though he had no intention of voluntarily stopping. He wanted to, he really did. Each passing second was making the pain exponentially worse and his self-confidence was rapidly declining.

He decided to create some self-inspiration to make his training seem easier. What if he needed to hold this potion for _six_ minutes in order to protect Illya? Would he do it for her?

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, attempting to force the pain away. If that was what it required, he would do it. It didn't matter if it caused irreparable damage, so long as she was safe.

Six minutes passed by and it wasn't one more second before he collapsed straight onto his face, the rest of his body landing on the dojo floor with a loud whump. He let out a pained groan and would have lifted his upper body from the mat, but his arms weren't responding to any signals from his brain. To make matters worse, they were absolutely numb. It was as if he had slept on them both at the same time.

Effectively stuck, he let out heaving breaths while his screaming muscles recovered enough to regain function. Before he could move on his own will, a small hand touched the side of his head.

Struggling to look at the owner, he spotted bright crimson eyes beaming down at him with concern. "You're going to end up hurting yourself if you keep pushing yourself this hard."

Shirou bared his teeth, struggling with both arms to lift just his top half off the tatami. "I need to be stronger for the Grail War. I need to grow stronger before then and training is the only way."

Illya sighed, moving the hand on his face to rest between his shoulder blades. The girl applied a small amount of force and he collapsed on his front again, unable to mount a defence against a girl less than half of his own weight.

"If you train yourself like this just before the War, even a weakling like myself could defeat you."

Fighting to no avail, Shirou eventually acquiesced to his demanding sibling. When his squirming stopped, Illya returned to affectionately patting his head and toying with his hair. "I think Daddy is going to be a master again," she murmured, voice empty in comparison to its usual emotion.

The two were silent as they digested the meaning behind her words. "Are you sure? He didn't have the same signature as you or Rin."

Illya nodded. "I've seen the marks on his hand but they aren't like mine." The girl paused to admire her own command seals. "They're _faded_ , almost like they aren't really complete."

"I guess that's how I missed it. The signature must not be complete." Shirou tested his arms, finding that he could at least move his fingers and hands with some degree of precision.

"Why don't you have your command seals yet?" she asked, gazing at the back of his extended hand.

Shirou himself clumsily shifted his head to look at the appendage as well, claiming, "I don't know. Could the Grail still be deciding? Maybe Kiritsugu is supposed to be the master instead of me." He tried to shrug, but it looked more like he just twitched on account of his arms not working.

"He already had a war, would it really choose him a second time?"

Shirou sighed, feeling the numbness work its way back from his wrists. "Like the old man says, stranger things have happened." The boy quickly remembered something and his voice changed from a saddened tone to something more questioning. "What time is it?"

Illya blinked but answered his question regardless. "Just after six, why?"

Shirou grunted, trying to move his arms but only managing to make a convincing fish-out-of-water demonstration. "Caren will be here in a half-hour or so. I'll need to start getting dinner ready."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to invite a potential rival master to our house?"

Feeling started returning to his arms at an increased rate. He could now move everything past his elbows. "I think it's a great idea. We can find out for sure if she is a master or not. She already knows all of us and where we live, so she can't gain more knowledge about us than she already has."

Illya donned a very dry expression. "What are you going to do? Take her by the hand and blatantly look to see if there's something there?"

While shaky, he managed to lift his upper body partly from the floor. It was enough to allow him to shake his head in disagreement. "It's really not that hard to see the back of someone's hand. I only have two examples to go off of, but it seems like all command seals are on the right hand. While Caren isn't right-handed, she uses her right hand to eat with. We'll be able to see clear as day then."

Illya scrunched up her face. "Do you always make a point of noting which hand people eat with?"

Straining to seat himself cross-legged, he gave a weak nod. "Of course. That way I can place people at the table so they don't bump elbows with other guests."

Illya blinked several times, shrugged her frail shoulders and carefully stood upright. "I guess it's not as bad of an idea as I originally thought. Did you tell Kiritsugu?"

"We worked together to come up with the idea in the first place. The old man and I have been planning things out a lot more with the War so close," he admitted.

Illya turned to leave with a soft exhale, making it halfway to the exit before speaking with a raised voice so it would reach him. "So you've got a set plan for _every_ situation then? That's nice, I hope those plans include tomorrow's dinner!"

Shirou could barely open his mouth before the girl shut the door behind herself. While he should have been upset, he could only smirk. If the inner workings of Illya's mind were ever made into a movie, ninety percent of its runtime would be flickering images of food. Whether it was in her nature or due to him spoiling her with his cooking was up to debate, though Kiritsugu would claim it to be the latter.

Since his legs were still working, Shirou made an effort to stand - something which was heavily dissuaded by his sore midsection. He managed to stagger into the bathroom where he could wash up after his training. In fresh clothes and with the sweat washed away, Shirou started preparing dinner.

He had barely gotten all of the ingredients out before Caren arrived, solemn and silent as usual. The priestess did nothing to hide her hands and even from the kitchen, Shirou couldn't see any sort of command seals. Regardless, the signature remained. He wasn't imagining things, he simply couldn't be.

Maybe the seals were elsewhere on her body? Was such a thing even possible? Kiritsugu certainly hadn't informed him of such a possibility, and so far, three out of four cases had seals on the hand. It was a possibility for sure, but he couldn't legally check Caren's entire body. He would just have to go with the assumption that his tracing was picking up something different.

Conversation carried on, though it was a touch tenser than Shirou was used to. Once Taiga arrived - expectedly late - things picked up significantly, though that was just Taiga's way. While Caren wasn't known for lengthy conversations, she was a great listener. It was a trait which paired well with Illya and Taiga, who were both well known for talking at length about the most insignificant things, especially to guests.

Dinner went as could be expected, though it was still much quieter than he was used to. While no event with Taiga could ever be called quiet, there was still a lack of distinct voices. Rin seemed to be growing ever distant with each passing week. It had started with her not visiting the house but had grown to her cancelling their lunches at school. He knew she was avoiding him and it was likely due to her command seals appearing. She believed him to be clueless about the Grail War, so maybe it was an attempt at sparing him?

While Rin had become something of a lost cause, Sakura was still there. It just so happened that she was at her own home that day. Most of the time, she stayed at the Emiya household, having just re-moved in only recently.

Not even Missy was present. The girl had gone alone on a trip two days ago, on Monday. He had been left in the dark on the reasoning once more, but Shirou was starting to get rather annoyed with the espionage. His father was supposed to be forthcoming with everything, what reason could he have to hide something?

He was drawn from his mind by a tapping on his arm. Turning his head, he spotted Caren, who had an emotion on her face he couldn't quite place. "May I speak with you in private?"

The request caught him off guard, causing his brain to enter a "restarting" period where he could do nothing but gape. Recovering, he softly agreed, expecting to speak with her after finishing their meal. He was surprised to find she had meant that very moment if her standing and soft excusing signified anything.

After excusing himself, Shirou followed the priestess out of the hall into the backyard, far from earshot of the dining room. Caren didn't waste any time being dramatic or tense in the night air, deciding to fire off her request as soon as she was facing him.

"Could I live at your house?" The question was as unexpected as a slap to the face and Shirou found himself reeling, asking if she could repeat it so he could be sure what he heard was correct.

Unfortunately for him, it was. "Why would you want to live in my house?" was the first question he asked, one of many in his head.

The priestess tilted her head, giving him a peculiar look. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Don't you have responsibilities as a priestess at the church?"

The girl nodded. "If I lived here, I would commute to and from the church daily. It would be good exercise though I would have to end the twenty-four-hour confessional program."

Shirou stared at the girl for a moment before signing and rubbing his eyes with one hand. As the War's mediator, could she really live in the same house as a master? Wasn't that against some sort of rule? At the very least, it would show the other masters that there was some sort of favouritism and he would become their first target. As much as he wanted to ensure that the girl wasn't lonely, now just simply wasn't the time to play host.

Eventually, he shook his head and took the time to crouch down to her level. "I'm sorry but you can't." It was subtle, but he noticed that her face had taken on a sad expression. "The church needs you. If it was any closer to the house I would agree but you would have to travel across Fuyuki every day and you're only thirteen."

"I can travel on my own," the girl defied.

"You probably can, but in the case that something happened it would indirectly be my fault and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." Shirou wasn't lying. Beyond the fact that hosting her would be a conflict of interest, he was worried about her own safety. Caren wasn't a combat-oriented magus, so it wouldn't take much for another magus to defeat her.

The priestess' shoulders dropped and her golden eyes seemed to peer _through_ him absently. "I must respect your decision, it is your home," she murmured.

Shirou stood and let out a soft breath. He could see that she was disappointed, he wasn't blind, though some would argue against him on that. "I can visit you every Monday if you would like. That wouldn't be much of a problem for me."

The girl didn't speak a word, nor did she move. Eventually, she lifted her head and blinked while staring into his eyes. "We can finish dinner now, thank you."

… … …

… … …

Caren did return the next week, though things were _different_. She was more talkative, something ill-befitting of her clinical, rigid speech. The priestess also tried to overshadow Illya wherever she could. If she ate a considerable amount of food, Caren ate more. If Illya was close to him, Caren tried to be closer. Once Illya caught on, the two formed a very strange rivalry. It was a competition for his attention and the two continually tried to one-up the other, unwilling to be beaten.

For that reason alone he was thankful to have declined Caren's request the month prior. He couldn't imagine what sort of trouble the two girls would get up to if they had to live with one another.

The two would likely set up a war between one another and he would end up being a casualty, probably. Leaving the thought as it was, he turned to the shorter girl diligently studying from a textbook. "How is Japanese coming, Lectra?"

The girl scratched the back of her head with a pen, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Not very well. The writing system you have is so strange," she admitted. When he thought about it, Lectra attending high school was interesting. She had been twenty-one last year, meaning she was twenty-two this year. Assuming she graduated at eighteen, four years had passed only for her to return to high school.

It was funny enough to bring a smile to his face. If an older, wiser version of himself suddenly appeared and told him something like that about his future he'd probably just laugh. "I understand what you mean, though learning English was the same for me."

It was Sunday, a day where he would usually pick up a shift at the Copenhagen. Surprisingly, Lectra had called his house and requested a private tutoring lesson at her home. At the end of the day, he was supposed to be assisting them wherever he could and declining might have just been enough to put him on a suspect list. He sent a call to Neko and rather than sounding disappointed or upset, she was almost happy.

" _I'm proud of you, Emiyan. You're finally taking my advice and cutting work for some recreation time. Go have fun, I'll see if I can get someone else!"_

The girl withdrew a few pages that he clearly identified as Japanese language arts practice questions. With the pen in her hand, she carefully scrawled an answer for the first question. He waited until she was finished, but before she carried on he extended a finger to point at her mistake. "You're missing the second stroke here. Unless you want to cast your employees in metal, that is."

Groaning in frustration, the girl dropped the pen in her hand and placed both palms on her forehead. "I'm never going to get this stuff right. The only thing I can do is understand it but I still can't even speak it properly."

Defeated, the girl laid her head on the table and produced another sorrowful noise. He made an attempt at consoling her by patting her shoulder. "You'll get it eventually. Is Luvia helping out at all?" The blonde in question was supposedly out for the day running errands, leaving the entire Edelfelt manor open to the two of them. It was lavishly furnished almost to an extreme. Comparing it to the Tohsaka manor wasn't really fair considering that there were nearly a hundred years of difference between the age of decor. The modern style was far more accommodating but there was something to say about the Tohsaka's antique vibe.

Lectra spoke with defeat in her voice toward the table. "She tried but that was the whole reason behind why I called."

Shirou couldn't help but chuckle. "You think she's useless?"

Lectra snorted, lifted her head and stubbornly retrieved her pen. The girl fixed her mistake and moved onto the next question. "I don't know if I want to talk bad about her when she's not here but I also don't want to lie and say you're wrong."

The two shared a brief laugh before an awkward silence descended over them both. Eventually, Shirou cleared his throat and thought of something that could start a conversation. "I've heard Luvia mention someone named Flat. Pretty strange name, is it someone back home?"

Immediately, the girl's cheeks flushed with blood. "I-uh, he's a guy back home, yeah," she murmured, immediately growing sheepish. From what he remembered, Lectra was never one to get embarrassed, through that changed drastically when the topic of conversation turned to relationships. It was nice to see that she hadn't changed.

"Luvia makes it seem like you talk about him all the time, must be pretty special."

The girl produced a very shaky laugh, lifting her hands to throw her hood over her head. "C-can we talk about something else maybe? Luvia already teases me enough."

Shirou chuckled, leaning back so he could stretch his arms. "Alright, why don't you try speaking some Japanese and I'll try to correct you if you're wrong."

Lectra made a dismissive noise. "Nice of you to think any of it will be right."

… … …

Closing the door behind himself, Shirou took a deep breath of the autumn air. The end of 2003 was approaching faster than he would have anticipated. Sighing, he began the walk back to his own home, casting a glance in the direction of the Tohsaka mansion. Were they just rivals now? Rivals with a friendly ceasefire until the war commenced?

Even though the Grail War was a few months away, his command seals had yet to appear. It was concerning. He had been training and preparing his whole life for this war, so why would the Grail be so reluctant in selecting him as a master?

Not like there was much he could do about it though. He just had to hope that he would be selected as one of the seven. So far there were still only three for certain. Rin, Illya and Sakura. While Sakura didn't have command seals, she was a Matou, so her selection was inevitable.

Something itched at the back of his mind and he unconsciously snapped his head around to pan his surroundings. There was a soft breeze, the scent of distant ocean water and something else. It was faint, but he could detect perfume.

Re-examining the area twice, he found nothing. Considering how paranoid he must have looked, he brought a palm to press against his forehead, questioning his own actions. Why had he done that? He had such a compelling feeling that someone was watching him and his body acted on its own accord.

Lifting his head to check over his surroundings one final time, he decided to continue his walk back home.

Not even ten minutes passed before the sensation returned, stronger than ever. Snapping his head over his shoulder, his eyes flickered across various potential hiding points, still unable to find a lock on who or what was watching him.

Put on edge, he murmured a very soft "trace on", concealing his lips with a faked mouth wipe with one hand. Tracing the ground brought a stabbing pain to his brain, but still garnered no results.

Standing amidst an empty street, the chilling breeze and his isolation became overwhelmingly obvious. Did he return home and risk leading this tail back to his family or did he try to outmaneuver them with his knowledge of Fuyuki's streets?

He took an extra second to glance in the direction of his home and the Edelfelt manor he had come from before making his decision.

Muscles snapping to life, he exploded into a sprint, taking a sharp right turn down another street that sloped downward. Picking up extra momentum, Shirou constantly checked his flank over his shoulder while planning his next move. In a half block, there would be a left turn he could make onto another street. Twenty meters after that, an alleyway opened up, giving him the option of doubling back on himself. From there, he could loop back toward the Tohsaka manor and make use of the alleys between the scattered stores. After that, he could switch their roles and become the tailer instead of the tailee. Or play it safe and return home without risking his neck. Both options had their merits, though he did promise Illya that he wouldn't risk his life alone anymore.

Skidding into the first alley, he slowed his movements and made them especially deliberate to minimize the sound produced. Moving as quickly as he could under these new conditions, he doubled back onto the street he initially turned onto and carried on with his plan.

From there, he took an alternate route back in the direction of his home, just further north to avoid running into his tail. This time, his walk was uninterrupted by any sensations. The feeling he had experienced earlier failed to return, so he wasn't being watched anymore - thankfully.

… … …

What the hell happened? She had been patiently waiting for the past two hours for him to leave her home. When he finally appeared and she started watching him walk, it was like he _knew_ something was up and he took off running like a wild animal.

If she had been a normal human, she would have been too far away to keep up, though that wasn't a problem for her as a magus. Moving as fast as a car, the girl had closed the distance but lost her mark after he turned a second corner.

She had done her best to look but came up with absolutely nothing.

All that time waiting was wasted. But at the very least, a potential lead revealed itself. She had initially planned to follow Shirou home and discover where he was living. She still had to, of course, though she now had more important answers to discover.

Like how a normal human could both realize he was being watched and escape a trained mercenary magus with ease. Or how that same normal human could have an entire family that nobody within the entire school seemed to remember.

Things just weren't adding up and with Shirou's similarities to Blade, he was becoming a more likely candidate by the second. There was no avoiding it anymore, Luvia and Lectra had to focus their sights on him and unravel the mystery behind the Fake Janitor.

Stumbling into the grounds of her home with an aura of depression, she unenthusiastically shambled inside to meet Lectra, who took her visage with some concern. "What are you doing here? Did he see you?"

Luvia shook her head. "There was no way, but it sure seemed like he did. He took off running as soon as he walked into my sight." Groaning with exasperation, the girl leaned back on the door she just entered, sliding down until she hit the floor. "This is going to get worse before it gets better, I can just tell."

Lectra crouched ahead of her, maintaining a solemn silence before taking a great inhale. "Look, we can pretty much say for certain that Shirou is a magus, but we're not certain if he's Blade - so we still have a chance."

"Because if Shirou is Blade and Shirou is working with the Magus Killer, we're screwed, _royally_."

Lectra begrudgingly nodded. "Even together, we'd be hard-pressed to take Blade on alone. Combine him with the Magus Killer and our chances are virtually non-existent."

Luvia rather loudly banged the top of her head against the door behind her, closing her eyes in frustration. "I know. I hate admitting it, but there's no way we could handle Blade if he was putting effort into fighting. I couldn't even get the upper hand when he was letting me win." The Edelfelt couldn't stop a scowl from appearing on her features as memories of the Tournament returned. Even after Blade's supposed death, she never forgot that slight against her.

It had actually infested her mind and festered over the last year, culminating into a cancer which made her despise the man. Did he really not value or respect her enough to fight her fair and honourably in combat? Was she just that worthless to him? Nobody did anything out of the good of their heart, so what was his ulterior motive?

"So what's the plan then? Call this whole thing off and go home where we're safe from becoming pincushions?" Lectra dryly asked, humour falling flat to match the tone of her voice. Luvia thought about it for some time. It would be easier to tell her family that there wasn't anything here, but the lead was too strong, the proximity to her goal too alluring. Eventually, the blonde shook her head, throwing drill curls about in every direction. "We stay here until we're certain. We have to know if Shirou is harbouring or working alongside the Magus Killer."

Lectra drooped her head downward, letting it bounce limply before throwing it back up and moving some hair from her face with one hand. "Alright, so we need to find out where he lives and go from there."

"I agree. Thankfully, I just thought of a way to get the location of Shirou's house without following him or trying to get invited." The girl in the hood tilted her head and made a questioning glare, prompting the Edelfelt to elaborate. "There's nobody we know that simultaneously has the knowledge of the Emiya family and is open enough for us to speak with."

Lectra narrowed her eyes. "I feel like there's a _but_ coming up."

The blonde nodded. "You'd be right. There is _one_ person that both has the knowledge, and is someone we can speak with. What makes it better is that she's someone who we spend time around five days a week."

Luvia held silent a moment as her apprentice struggled with determining who the mystery person could be. Just when the girl was about to admit defeat, her face brightened with a sudden realization. "Miss Fujimura?"

… … …

… … …

Shirou was lost in a pot of soup. Specifically, a large pot of jambalaya soup - a new dish he'd decided to test out. He had read the recipe in a cooking magazine and the colourful display had caught his eye. It was much more alluring in person, and he was quite lost in the bubbling sauce.

With a blink and soft shake of the head, he returned to himself all before stirring the fragrant blend of vegetables and meats. It had been a struggle to get quality andouille in the heart of Japan but Shirou had found something passably similar.

While it had been gradual, the dining room had become quite empty during the course of the day. Typically, Kiritsugu watched the news while enjoying coffee, conversed with Missy or did whatever he did on his laptop - a surprisingly useful piece of tech, so it was claimed.

Recently though, the old man had spent significantly more time in his room and Shirou wasn't certain why. Missy frequently came and went from it at various times in the day as well. Knowing his father as well as he did, it wasn't for anything nefarious, though it was concerning.

That thought was enough to bring his thoughts to the girl in question, Missy. She had been taking trips on her own for some time now and each time she returned, she appeared more exhausted than before. The soft, demure woman Shirou remembered seemed so distant to the bag-eyed, quiet one that was in her place. While still respectful and polite, it was obvious that she was worn out - why, Shirou could only guess. Though with the number of injuries across her body, his guess was likely to be on point. He hadn't spoken to anybody and Kiritsugu certainly hadn't said a word to him, but he would bet money that Missy was working under the old man.

There was no other explanation. The secrecy, unexplained injuries and the exhaustion clearly showcased on the woman's face all told a concerning tale. While he was worried about her safety, there was nothing he could really say or do for her. His father, while skewed in his methodology, knew what was best and did what had to be done.

The most admirable quality of his was that he never forced anyone to do something or be someone they weren't entirely comfortable with. He strongly suggested doing certain things but understood that he would be unable to change others. That meant Missy had chosen this route on her own and Shirou had to respect that.

An audible sniffing from behind brought his attention to the door. Casting his head over his shoulder, he found the excited expression of a miniature girl. "What are you cooking today?" she asked, before being overshadowed by a louder, deeper voice from behind.

"Whatever it is, it's making everyone in the house hungry." Stepping past his daughter, Kiritsugu glided into the dining room, peering into the kitchen from the partition but going no further. After he nearly burnt down the house trying to make toast that one time, Shirou had banned him from entering the kitchen.

Turning to resume stirring the pot, Shirou let the two know its status: "It still isn't going to be ready for a few minutes."

"Regardless, it is certainly a tantalizing scent," came a much softer voice. Glancing back to confirm his suspicions, the tall but tired sight of Missy greeted him.

"Senpai is trying something new," came an even softer voice. It hardly took him a moment to recognize the voice of Sakura.

"If you wanted to eat a little earlier, one of you could set up the table." Both Missy and Sakura simultaneously claimed the role and the two shared the load of the task. The timing ended up being perfect and Shirou moved the large pot to the table just as the preparations were being finalized.

Shirou delegated Kiritsugu to call over Taiga and within five minutes the girl arrived - though she was admittedly out of breath. With all guests for the night present, dinner began and everyone dished out a helping from the single large pot in the center.

Conversation was quite sparse while those present enjoyed the quality meal before them, though Taiga did her best to keep _something_ going. "It looks like you've got two other girls after you, Shirou," she claimed, giving him a smirk.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he asked for some clarification as to what she meant. Months ago, just before they arrived, Kiritsugu had expressly informed the teacher _not_ to speak with either of the two new magi. Obviously, that suggestion had failed to stick.

"Those two foreigners were talking to me the other day all about you," she claimed innocently, though the entire mood around the table shifted drastically.

"What sort of questions?" Kiritsugu asked, tone entirely serious.

Caught off guard by the change, Taiga's face faltered. "About Shirou's cooking and the house."

"Anything else?" the Magus Killer pressed.

"Y-yeah. They wanted to know if Shirou had a family. I said yes but didn't tell them anything else because there wasn't any reason for them to know," she admitted.

Both Emiya males let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Taiga hadn't let out anything of major importance, though there was still a pit stubbornly residing in Shirou's gut. It was possible that Luvia had pegged him as a potential suspect in her search, though why wouldn't she have asked him directly?

Shirou was about to question the old man with his concerns but before he could swallow the food in his mouth, the doorbell chimed through the house. The two Emiya males shared a glance of concern while the present Matou stood to answer it. Shirou stopped her short and rose up himself. "Let me get the door this time, just in case."

Out of the dining room, down the hall to the front door, Shirou spotted a very concerning silhouette. He knew in advance who was on the other side but was unable to hesitate as it would only incite suspicion and make the situation worse.

Sliding the front door open, he greeted his fate head-on, exclaiming a surprised, "Luvia?" as the blonde fully revealed herself.

The bright smiling Edelfelt offered a short wave, an act that was copied by the smaller, much more genuine girl behind her: Lectra. "Good evening Shero, how is your night going?"

Blinking a few times while his mind had a quick reboot, Shirou stumbled out a polite greeting and asked what the two were doing at his home.

"Well…" Lectra chimed, turning sheepish even though she was practically hiding behind the more confident woman.

"We're sorry to be so intrusive but Lectra really needs the extra help with Japanese," Luvia bowed heavily, an act which wasn't really necessary and verged on being rude - but at least she was trying. "She's struggling and I'm not a very good teacher evidently."

Shirou blinked a few more times, furrowing his brow and putting on a look of confusion. "How did you find out where I lived? And why would you show up at such a late hour?"

Both girls were visibly surprised by his quick questions and Luvia's voice caught in her throat, though before either could make a response, a loud clattering noise sounded from behind, deeper in the house. If Shirou had to guess, Kiritsugu or Illya had heard who was at the door and were working to make themselves scarce.

Unfortunately, it gave the two girls an out from his questions, prompting Luvia to ask: "You have company over?"

Withholding a grumble of frustration over whoever made the noise, he focused on getting the two girls away. Shirou flashed a brief smile and nodded, excusing himself by saying, "Yes I do and we were in the middle of dinner - something I'm sure we would like to return to."

His hand reached out to grip the sliding door. While it would be rude to shut the door in their face, he had to or he ran the risk of having them discover something. "We? How many guests do you have?" Lectra asked, offering a questioning glance.

Shirou twitched at his slip of the tongue. "Yes, is it strange that I have many guests for dinner?"

Luvia shook her head, continuing to smile despite his uncharacteristically sharp response. "Not at all. But if you have guests, you've made a large dinner to feed them and it really wouldn't hurt to have two more, would it? After dinner, you can help Lectra with her Japanese and we'll return home as quick as we can."

Shirou stiffened, unconsciously gripping the door tighter. He tried to conceive of a reason as to why they wouldn't be able to stay. He wasn't rude enough to blatantly deny them and he couldn't think of anything that would send them away. He had one last attempt at driving them off, even though he doubted it would work. "I might not have enough food to feed you both," he claimed, moving the hand from the door to scratch at the back of his head.

Luvia spared a glance toward Lectra. With his sharp ears, he caught the mumble easily. "Are you hungry?" she asked, getting a nod from the smaller. Turning to face him again, Luvia nodded herself. "That's fine, we can pick something up on the way back."

The girl took a step forward, but Shirou planted his arm on the wall, blocking her path. "Before you can come in, you have to tell me how you found my house. I don't think I've ever told you."

Luvia stood tall, placing both hands on her waist while shooting him a smug smile. "Miss Fujimura told us how to get here and said," the girl adorned a resolute face and recited in a deeper, Taiga-like fashion, "if you ever need help, Shirou will be there!"

The person to ruin months of meticulous planning was Taiga, of course. The loose end nobody could control.

… … …

To say it was tense around the dining table would be an understatement. Shirou, Taiga, Sakura, Lectra, Luvia and Missy were all eating in dead silence and the raven-haired woman continually glanced between the two new guests and Shirou himself, verifying that things were still amicable.

The cover story was that Missy was a friend of Taiga's. It wasn't very far off, considering both women were around the same age and got along well enough. The fact that she was living in the Emiya house was omitted. As was the existence of Shirou's father and sister who had fled somewhere in the house.

Shirou couldn't find out where they were through tracing either since activating his circuits would tip the two girls off to his magus status and open a whole new can of worms. The original girls, not including Lectra or Luvia, had finished eating at similar times, though Taiga had eaten two entire helpings for Missy and Sakura's one. All guests began light idle conversation either between themselves or with the two girls - who were still on their first helping. As Shirou expected, Sakura and Lectra spoke more than anyone else, holding their own conversation while others took place.

Shirou was halfway through his third bowl, though he was slower than normal as he spent most of his time watching the two new guests. As he lifted the bowl up to finish its contents, Luvia made a soft noise.

"What's this?" she asked, reaching toward the zabuton to pluck something from its surface. Lifting her hand aloft to the light, it became obvious what she had discovered. Between her fingers was an excessively long pure white hair.

Flickering her eyes between it and the hair atop Shirou's head, she found the distinct dissimilarities. "Well, this obviously isn't yours."

As Shirou struggled to think of a half-truth he could tell, Missy suddenly giggled softly and took the hair from the blonde. "That would be mine. You wouldn't think so, but I used to dye my hair white for a while." Producing a warm, genuine smile, she continued. "I returned to black once I realized it was making me look old."

Luvia made an appreciative noise, reciprocating the smile. "I see, well, I imagine you look good regardless of your hair colour." The girl dropped the matter and returned to admiring the room before making a clearly emphasized, smug noise of surprise. Reaching toward another zabuton, she retrieved a significantly shorter, black hair. "And this one?"

It was time for both Shirou and Missy to lock up now. That was undoubtedly Kiritsugu's hair, but they had no cover left to use. "That's from one of my friends, Reikan Ryuudou," Taiga blurted out.

Shirou snapped his head to look at the teacher in confusion. "I didn't know that you invited him here," he claimed.

Taiga tapped her fingers together, laughing awkwardly. "Well, grandfather was home and you weren't here so I thought I could use it for-"

Shirou thrust out his open hands, shaking his head sharply. "That's enough, don't tell me any more."

Lectra had stopped eating to cover her mouth - and laughter - with one hand while Luvia just seemed stunned. "A very interesting home you run, Shero."

The boy himself placed his face into one hand and grumbled softly. "Sometimes it surprises me as well."

"I see you entertain quite a few guests, with or without your knowledge. I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise with all the stories of your glowing hospitality of course." Removing his face from his hand, he saw the girl beaming a sickly sweet smile. She was planning something, though he could only hope it wasn't what he was expecting.

"I enjoy cooking and the more people I can entertain, the better." He returned her smile with one of his own, adding on to his statement with, "though there are days where I prefer the presence around the table to be a little smaller and not as full." It wasn't a full lie. Normally he enjoyed serving as many people as possible but there were rare occasions where eating as a small family was all he desired.

Retaining her smile, the blonde tilted her head partly to one side. "I can understand that. It would get straining to entertain so many at once, especially if you had guests who didn't really see eye to eye."

Shirou closed his eyes softly and responded with a soft nod. Without looking, he took hold and popped the last remaining piece of food in his bowl - a shrimp - into his mouth.

Luvia's next question was the worst yet. "Shero, where's your adorable little sister?"

Three separate mouths opened to form an answer but each one would claim the wrong thing and blow their intricately crafted lie sky high. " _Caren,"_ he emphasized, trying to surely make everyone else aware of his lie. He tried to think of something he could say that wouldn't reveal he was lying, but he couldn't think of anything. Instead, he donned a frustrated look and hoped that someone would cover for him.

"Didn't you say that Caren was visiting her friends?" Sakura asked, shooting him a concerned look from across the table. "She didn't tell you that she was also spending the night, that's why you made so much extra food."

Shirou nodded, trying to play off his lack of an excuse on failing memory. "How could I forget," he murmured.

Missy chimed in. "Perhaps it's all the stress you have with school, errands and a part-time job."

"I warned you that Neko would work you to the bone," Taiga scolded, even though it was entirely false.

Clearing her throat, Lectra suddenly contributed to the tense conversation. "I've seen houses like this in books and movies but never got to see one in real life, even once I came to Japan. It seems very rare and antique."

Opening one eye, Shirou watched her while he finished chewing before opening the other to respond to Lectra genuinely. "This manor was built toward the end of the seventeenth century. Back then it was built for the shogunate but instead housed daimyo and their families. In 1872, it was purchased by a wealthy businessman and was passed down for a few generations before trading hands quite a few times during the Second World War. It ended up in the hands of a young man-"

"Mister Saito!" Taiga blurted out, contributing her own knowledge to the building's history.

Shirou nodded. "The Saito family had this building until our family purchased it after his death. As he never had children, it was either that or the site would become an architectural museum."

"So we're in a building that's over three hundred years old? That's really neat," Lectra admired, looking around and taking in the sights with renewed respect.

Shirou chuckled but nodded again. "Of course, much of the original building has been renovated to keep it structurally sound, but the original design hasn't changed and the renovations performed have retained the traditional way of construction. Expensive, sure, but it doesn't detract from the quality of the architecture with modern elements as much."

"You wouldn't be able to show me around so I can see more, would you?"

Shirou repressed a twitch. While he should have expected such a question, it did surprise him. "Yes, I could, though there are rooms that I've filled with furniture and others that are specific rooms for guests like Taiga and Missy, who essentially have a second home here."

Lectra agreed wholeheartedly and after a brief moment to relax after their meal, the three - Lectra, Luvia and himself - all explored the manor. He showed them specific rooms which were empty guest rooms, cleverly avoiding the _occupied_ rooms. While Illya hardly spent any time at all in her own room anymore, it was still packed with personal trinkets and the like.

Finishing the tour without issue, the three returned to the dining room but just as they were about to enter, Luvia cleared her throat and gathered the attention of the other two. "I don't think we'll be able to tutor Lectra with her Japanese today. It's getting late and if we try, it'll wind up being midnight before we leave and we all have school tomorrow."

Shirou peeked into the dining room to take note of the clock within, agreeing with the blonde. "I feared the same, so I agree that it would be best for you to leave." Without much trouble, Shirou led them to the door and expressed his farewells as the girls returned home.

Once the door was closed, he pressed his back against its surface and breathed out a sigh of relief. That was the second time an enemy he was trying to avoid had snooped around his house. Though these two were far less thorough, it was still equally as tense.

"Trace on," he murmured, scanning the house to locate the two fugitives. As he should have guessed, they were both on the roof again. It was quite cold out, so they could likely use what remained of the hot dinner he made.

… … …

"You didn't see it, did you?"

"You mean how awkward and weird Shirou was acting? Pretty hard to miss that," Lectra replied, scowling while she begrudgingly trailed behind the other girl. "No matter how distracting that delicious food was, he was like an entirely different person."

"I meant that girl with the dark hair, Missy."

"What about her?"

Luvia rolled her eyes. "You're telling me you didn't notice the pistol pointed directly at us the entire time we were eating?"

The other girl visibly paled and her face drooped. "She was what?"

"And there were four toothbrushes in the bathroom. If Missy and Taiga only stay there occasionally, they wouldn't keep a toothbrush at that house, and where does the extra one come from?" Lectra furrowed her eyes deep in thought. "I'm almost certain that he's hiding something. Shirou is the most prominent suspect we have so far so we'll need to focus our attention on him until we either find something substantial or prove his innocence."

Lectra looked back toward the Emiya house, keeping close to her partner. "Since we know where he lives now, we can keep watch and see what we find, right?

Luvia nodded. "If they're magi, they'll notice any familiars that watch their property but we can use video cameras instead. The quality of the visuals won't be as good, but it'll be untraceable."

"So I won't be able to use ether clumps, damn." There was silence as Luvia was distracted with deep thought, leading Lectra to look back at the Emiya house another time. "She was really pointing a gun at us the whole time?"

… … …

… … …

"When I was a master, we summoned Saber four days prior to the declared beginning of the War. Since this date has yet to be declared, we'll have to wait a little longer - though it's good to be prepared." Grunting, the man used his back to shove a large table aside, freeing up space in the stone shed.

"Is this going to need some complex magical knowledge?" Shirou asked, watching his father work to prepare the area.

The Magus Killer made a soft "tsk" before looking over his area. "Believe it or not, the ritual is so simple that someone could do it by accident. The only reason we'll be creating a magic circle and chanting incantations is to provide a better anchor for you, Illya and the servants you'll summon." Extending one hand, he requested a hammer and chisel, which Shirou projected into his grasp easily enough.

"So we're making up for our inability and lack of true magus capability," Shirou summarized.

With strain as he descended to his knees, the old man agreed. "Not entirely. A major component of anchoring servants is the application of mana. For this reason, Illya is in a significantly better position than you are since she can pour as much as needed into solidifying them. You're the main point of concern due to your comparatively small mana pool."

"I suppose that makes sense. Since you're making it permanent, Illya will probably be able to use it again after me, right?" The man nodded while Shirou moved to lean up against one of the workbenches. "Don't we also need some sort of item to summon a servant? I know I'll use Avalon, but what will Illya use?"

"Avalon," the man responded curtly. "You'll utilize the sheath inside you, summon Saber with it and allow Illya to summon her servant using the same relic."

"What? Is it possible to use a relic in summoning like that? Wouldn't it summon two copies of the same servant?"

The man shrugged while tapping away at the floor. "I honestly have no idea, but it wouldn't be that big of a problem if we summoned two versions of Saber. Double the firepower," he murmured the last part, pausing to inspect his work.

Shirou scratched his head. "And if the second copy is summoned as the berserker class?"

"Illya has enough mana control to handle a berserker servant. If it turns out that she doesn't, the use of a command seal from her would more than solve the matter. Due to the quality of her circuits, any order would demand near-absolute obedience."

Shirou made a noise of admiration, pausing to scratch his face. "Seems like there's a lot of uncertainty in this plan."

Kiritsugu resumed chiselling the floor. "You want certainty in a ritual that will summon a legendary ruler who's been dead for hundreds of years?"

Shirou realized how foolish his question was when his father posed a reworded version back at him so rhetorically. "Alright, I get it. We're sort of shooting in the dark but we have no choice. I have one last question before I need to start on dinner: Since you summoned Saber and I'll likely summon her again, what will happen when she recognizes you?"

"That won't be a problem," the man replied immediately. "When a servant is summoned, a copy of the hero they were in their prime is ripped from a sort of storage cell called the Throne of Heroes. They hold no memories of any event following their death, but every memory up until that point. The Saber we summon will be as clueless and simple as the one I started with." Kiritsugu paused to chip away at the floor with a bit more focus, resuming shortly after. "Imagine it like a photocopier, except the original can't be recovered. You can draw or paint whatever you want on one copy, but it doesn't matter at all to the others."

With his question answered, Shirou felt more at ease. Deciding to leave his father to his work, he moved to leave but stopped short at the door. "How long do you think we have until the beginning of the war?"

Kiritsugu hummed at length, slowly mumbling to himself. "Today is December sixth, the Fourth War began on January seventh." Lifting his head and staring monotonously toward his son, he gave the estimation of "four or five weeks."

So a month to tie loose end, train and mentally prepare for the War. Where had all the time gone? "Don't stay out here too late, dinner will be ready in an hour - alright?"

The man grumbled in agreement, a signal to Shirou that the conversation had ended. He took that moment to leave and get to work on feeding his family.

… … …

… … …

The official "start" of the Grail War, January sixteenth, was revealed to them on Christmas day by Caren herself. She had been invited to spend the day relishing in the festivities and had spilled the information just before leaving to handle Christmas mass. That, along with her statement that she could no longer visit their home. As expected as it was, Shirou couldn't help but be surprised.

They were required to show their command seals, state their willful participation in the War as well as declare the servant they had summoned to her before midnight of the fifteenth. Before then, masters were honour-bound to maintain a ceasefire, lest they face extreme punishment from the Church. Late submissions and potential masters who existed or appeared after the fifteenth were "free game" as it were, able to be killed with impunity, regardless of whether or not they managed to summon a servant.

Supposedly this was deemed fair, but it only stressed Shirou further. It was no wonder why Rin avoided him after gaining her command seals. She was worried about being killed by Kiritsugu - or even Illya - before her chance at claiming the Grail.

The average fall had gradually turned to a warm winter. While void of snow and harsh winds, it was still cold enough to demand the use of a scarf and heavier clothing.

Shortly after her impromptu visit, Luvia had started avoiding him. He was somewhat understanding after such an awkward encounter, but something wasn't adding up. Foremost, she had spoken and studied with him for the first week or so after. Why would she decide to avoid him a significant time _after_ that encounter? At the start of December, she was abruptly absent from school for two weeks. Lectra had claimed rather genuinely that Luvia had unspecified medical issues which needed to be handled and, while nothing serious, it would keep her away from daily activities. It did, though after she returned, Lectra spontaneously required additional help throughout most of the day, occupying much of Shirou's time as their "guide".

She claimed that Luvia was no help to her Japanese and she was struggling enough to almost be failing. Wary of some sort of deception, Shirou tutored the girl as much as he could and even with all his effort she only improved marginally - enough to pass. All the occupied time meant her exposure to Luvia was minimized. Likewise, her exposure to the general student body was at an all-time low.

In fact, the going rumour at Homurahara was that she died and her spirit was all that remained to wander the halls. Both points of the story served well to explain her rapid personality shift and practical disappearance from interaction. It was curious, but Shirou could do little to investigate it further without being able to speak with her directly.

On the ninth of January, Kiritsugu made an executive decision. Shirou and Illya would summon their servants early to acclimate them both to the associated mana drain. During the time between then and the start of the war, they would establish their roles and define how the masters would work alongside their servants. After many answered questions, the two becoming masters were more confident in their roles.

"The ceremony will take place at midnight, supposedly the most stable time for major formalcraft," Kiritsugu claimed, answering Illya's question. The man ran a hand through his messy hair, revealing the still blotchy image of _something_ on the back of his right hand. If they truly were command seals, they still weren't fully formed. Shirou had often wondered why his father wasn't summoning Saber again, but the first time he brought up the question, he was harshly reminded of the old man's journal and told that Saber _had_ to be summoned by himself, not Kiritsugu.

"How do you know about magecraft like this?" Shirou asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't like his father to spit knowledge about magic, that was Rin's department.

"Years ago I borrowed books from Rin in preparation for this moment. Several superfluous books to make the truly informative tomes seem innocuous by comparison. She had and likely still has no idea of my plans."

Silently agreeing that it was a wise idea, Shirou cast an uneasy glance from his father to Missy and back again, speaking the question that his eyes conveyed. "What about Missy? Should she really stay here when this is about to happen?"

Kiritsugu stared at his son for a moment before letting out a regretful sigh. "I haven't told anyone yet, but I should be entirely transparent with you all about this." Taking in a small breath, he looked between his two children and informed them both that, "Missy is acting as my disciple and she had been for some time now."

Shirou couldn't be _that_ surprised. He had assumed such a thing anyway with the number and severity of wounds she had received. Illya seemed to be more confused than surprised, though he supposed it was an appropriate reaction as well.

Bowing her head and moving a considerable amount of hair in the act, the girl stared softly into Shirou's eyes. "I understand the risks and have accepted them fully. I am indebted for the humble generosity and kindness you have shown to me, among the saving of my very life. This is how I aim to repay that debt."

There wasn't much he could say in response. He didn't feel as if she owed them anything, but he had little doubt that Kiritsugu had told her the same thing. If she committed herself willingly, he couldn't say anything to stop her. From the corner of his eye, he caught a rather excessive pout from his sister; perhaps she felt the same way. With all of their questions answered, the family waited until the midnight hour was neared.

At eleven fifty, Kiritsugu guided his two children into the chilly, damp shed and directed them on what to do one last time. Because Shirou was acting as the summoning catalyst, he needed to be closest to the circle, though not so close as to always be in contact as that supposedly caused other problems.

After ensuring his children were prepared, Kiritsugu offered a "good luck" and left the shed, closing the heavy door behind him. He claimed that this was done to prevent the interior from becoming too cluttered. Four people were already enough to make the space cramped. With two servants added to the crowd, it would become quite uncomfortable.

The interior of the shed was illuminated in low-level orange light by candles strewn about the space. They were new, unscented and had been placed specifically for this purpose. When Shirou trained his magecraft inside, he typically left the door open and allowed the moonlight to light the space. It was different but not entirely unwelcome for that glow to be replaced with flame.

Ahead was the faintly pulsing crimson circle that would produce Saber. How or why he didn't know. But it was something he had to do regardless. "Well?" Illya asked from his side. Turning his head to meet her eyes, she shrugged. "I guess this is it. We really get to be masters now."

With a hoarse voice, Shirou croaked out an agreement before clearing his throat. "Hopefully our servants don't kill one another," he chuckled, producing an equally nervous laugh from the girl.

"Well then you'll just have to look for another servant," she continued.

"Me?" he asked, peering down at the girl questioningly.

"Well, duh. My servant will be so much stronger than yours, so you'll have to get a new one if mine kills yours," she explained, nerves replaced with humour.

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but laugh - both from the amusement gleaned off the comment and the anxiety striking at full force. Cautiously, he moved forward until he was an arm's length away from the circle. Then, he settled onto the cold stone floor with his knees.

Shirou hovered his hand over the surface of the circle. The skin facing its partly luminous surface prickled as if it was being electrified with low current. He wasn't even flowing mana into the arcane craft yet, but residual mana from the air was collecting and condensing within the magic circle at a surprising rate.

Sucking in a deep breath, Shirou nervously examined the back of his own hand. He still didn't have any command seals, so could he really be a master in this war? Would this summoning even work?

Clearing the thoughts from his mind, he decided that it had to, for him to protect his family - summoning a servant _had_ to work. "I guess you can start whenever you're ready," Illya claimed softly from behind him.

The boy nodded in confirmation of his preparedness - both to her and himself. When he was absolutely certain, he gently shut his eyes to concentrate on his circuits. This would need all the power he could offer to form a stable contract. Running a mental checklist, he found everything to be in order. The last step would be to chant the incantation. It hardly took more than a thought to recall the incantation instructed to him by his father. Supposedly, it was the exact one he had spoken all those years ago. With the words on the tip of his tongue, Shirou activated his magic circuits and channelled the mana within to his outstretched hand. Like a leech, he could feel the mana within his body being forcibly drawn out through the skin of his palm. The electrifying sensation intensified, still at a level that was more uncomfortable than painful.

"Heed my words, my will creates your body and your sword creates my destiny." With how many times Shirou had chanted an aria, this one felt different. It was as if he were connecting with something beyond his relatively puny human existence: Something greater than him in every way. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the air grow thick with mana, making the simple act of breathing a struggle.

"If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reasoning - then answer my summoning!" he chanted, confidence swelling in tune with the draw of his mana. There was a soft gasp behind him, and the shade of light hitting his eyelids shifted from orange to _blue_. "I hereby swear that I shall be all the good of the world and defeat all the evil of the world!"

Immediately, a searing pain pulsed through his body, something which began at his outstretched hand. Opening his eyes to the pain, he spotted glowing crimson markings etching themselves onto the flesh of his left hand: It was something tribal, with a fat triangle pointing toward his fingers, followed by two connected curved segments and a long tapered line leading toward his elbow. Beyond his hand, the magic circle was pulsing an ominous, deep crimson as it was overburdened with mana. It was a colour that tried and failed to battle the polar opposite glow of the candles they had lit just moments prior. Instead of orangish-red, each one now produced a tall, wild blue flame that flickered unsteadily, reacting to the unstable atmosphere being created.

His ears popped from the rapid pressure difference, bringing pain but mostly discomfort. Grimacing away the annoyance, he focused on the last line and struggled to get it out clearly above the pressure-induced silence in his ears. "From the Seventh Heaven, attended by the three great powers, come forth from the throne O-Wielder of Promised Victory!"

At the end of his last syllable, the room exploded violently with a light brighter than the sun. Clamping his eyes shut so they wouldn't be damaged, the subtle clanking of metal plating and a wave of smells struck him simultaneously. Rather than the stale damp air he had grown used to, his nose was assaulted with thick, rich scents of heavy leather and luxurious wine with the subtle note of brimstone behind it all. Opening his eyes, he was met with a heavy mist which swirled around as if there was an ongoing tropical storm. That wasn't the source of the scent however, there was something else here - his summoning had worked!

Through the haze, he spotted something, and his eyes rapidly acclimated until the full picture came into view. It was a woman, standing tall with intricately braided golden hair and piercing green eyes who glared down at him with righteous authority. In her right hand, was _nothing_ , though her hand obviously gripped _something_.

He was captivated, both by her jaw-dropping beauty and the sheer strength exuded by her very form. It was a woman, certifiably, and her appearance was stunning. He was no stranger to good-looking women. Rin, Sakura, Luvia, even Lectra and Missy were all attractive - but this servant, _his_ servant, Saber, was on a level above them all, at least in his mind.

He couldn't form words, but that didn't stop her or Avalon. The sheath was radiating brilliant golden energy within his mind. It was so bright that he could see it every time he blinked. He was thankful that it wasn't threatening him with pain in an attempt at being brought out to the real world. With its genuine owner in his presence, it actually seemed much calmer and significantly more effective. "I ask of you, are you my mas-" The woman cut herself off, eyes snapping to something behind his shoulder. With a voice full of surprise, she mumbled out, "Illyasviel?"

"Saber?" the girl replied with equal measures of bewilderment.

Shirou blinked, awe quickly shifting to confusion. "You remember Illya?"

As he spoke, Saber's eyes snapped back to him and he almost wished that he hadn't opened his mouth. The knight slowly raised the hand holding nothing to point in his direction. With his circuits activated, he was able to trace the item held, though the information which flooded his brain sent a stabbing pain straight to his brain. Even shrouded in some sort of compressed air, Shirou could see its entire construction plain-as-day. It was the greatest holy sword ever made, a weapon designed by the Fae and passed down to the Once and Future King, Excalibur.

And it was about to take off his chin.

Falling backwards to avoid being scarred, he collapsed on the ground and lifted a hand in surrender while the knight loomed threateningly above. "I ask again, are you my master?"

"I- uh," he stammered, considering the question. "Yes?" Shirou asked sheepishly, unsure of how to really answer. Was it that easy to bind a servant to a summoning contract? Just accept it?

The woman nodded and withdrew her sword to rest peacefully ahead of herself. "Then our pact is complete." Shirou blinked, was it really that easy? It was almost comically simple. The knight turned toward Illya and smiled nostalgically. "How is such a thing possible? Sixty years have passed yet you still appear so young? I am glad to see you remain in good health." Seemingly ignorant of Shirou, the knight stepped toward the small girl and kneeled to her level.

Shirou was able to stand in the time it took Illya to find her voice. "It's only been ten years since the last war," she cracked out, clearing her throat before sniffling. It didn't take much more than a glance to see that Illya was on the verge of tears. Did they have that much history? "I missed you, you were one of the few friends I had back in the castle," she admitted, haphazardly wrapping both arms around the woman's neck.

It seemed to surprise them both, as the two simultaneously flinched. As Illya sobbed quietly, Saber's face quickly turned to a soft smile. Hesitantly, the servant used the single gauntlet-clad hand _not_ wrapped around a sword hilt to return the embrace. "It has not been as long for me, but I assure you that you have been missed as well."

The two were embraced for a while before Illya stopped sniffling and returned to normal. As the homunculus removed her arms, Saber must have caught the command seals on her hand, as she abruptly stood upright and took a step backwards. "You are an enemy master?"

Shirou practically leapt at the ominous question, placing himself defensively between his sister and his servant. "No! She's not an enemy master. We're family and we'll be working together," he explained, fearful that Saber would attempt to skewer her before understanding what was happening. "I want you to treat her as your second master so everything you can tell me you can also tell her."

Saber's face tightened, but oddly enough the grip around her blade loosened. "As you wish, master, though your caution is misguided. I would never willingly harm another master, even if it was in my benefit to do so." The knight stared at his face impassively, before squinting and scowling in the next moment. "You remind me of someone I have met once before, master. I am willing to introduce myself in private, but please introduce yourself here."

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he stated his full name without much problem, visibly catching a twitch the moment he said "Emiya". The statement of his name did abate the scowl on her face, though only somewhat.

"Son of Kiritsugu Emiya?"

"Adopted son," both children confirmed, watching her scowl fade entirely.

"I hope that your surname is where the similarities to your father end." The statement was enough to make _him_ sour then. What about his father was so bad? He simply couldn't see it.

"If you don't like Daddy then I don't think you should go outside just yet," Illya murmured, scratching the top of her head with a wide close-eyed smile.

Shirou nearly watched the blood drain from her face. "Kiritsugu is still alive? And he's here?"

"Yes, he's just outside - but please stay in here so we can prepare you first," Shirou clarified, holding out an arm to block the knight's path as her body lurched forward toward the exit.

Saber threw him a cutting glare. "As my master of the previous war, I must speak with him - at least to discover the true outcome and apologize for my failure."

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but replayed the words she spoke in his head, an act which made him stumble. So she wasn't upset at his father? She was hoping he wasn't the same as he was but all the while regretted her failure in capturing the Grail? Giving his head a minute shake, he focused. "You can apologize later around the table. For the moment, remain here so we can summon Illya's servant."

The knight stared up at him for a moment before nodding sharply. "As you wish."

Without much warning, a hand yanked down on his collar, dragging his ear down a whole foot so Illya could whisper into it. "Kiritsugu told us not to let her know about Avalon, how are you going to explain having to sit close to it?"

Turning to look at her, he merely shrugged. What did Saber know about summoning other servants? The chances of her asking a question like that were minuscule. Standing upright, he used his hands to gesture where Saber could stand. Thankfully, the knight obliged and stood in the background as the two children prepared to summon another servant.

Things went nearly identical to how Shirou had summoned Saber, though there was a great difference in the amount of mana in the air. Like usual, he was a drop of water compared to Illya's ocean of mana. As the flash and fog subsided, more clanking metal sounded, though a male's voice clearly rolled out through the dark area.

"I ask of you, are you my master?" Unlike the summoning with Saber, no new scents dominated the area. In fact, it was almost as if his sense of smell was _deadened_ by this new individual.

Whoever it was, they wore rather bright armour. The dim light of the shed was more than enough to showcase his figure. This was due to the gleaming golden edging which gave intricate details to his white plate armour. Among the white and gold, blue also added to his attire. At the collar and on the front-facing tasset were medieval-looking symbols. At his back, attached to the shoulders most likely, were six long blue ribbons, each of which ended in small golden crosses. These items were the source of the jingling which accompanied every motion, though the extremely convoluted plate-design of his armour didn't help.

The fog cleared enough for Shirou to take note of his face. He was a very serious, rigid-looking man with a sharp, admittedly handsome, face that had controlled features. Above an angular, short nose were perpetually smouldering angry eyes which simultaneously looked depressed and remorseful. They were strange, though most of that uncanniness came from the fact that they were a light shade of purple.

This purple motif extended to both his eyebrows and hair. The hair of his face was a notably darker shade than his eyes and the extremely spiked, parted style worked well for his tall, angular face. Shirou briefly wondered if there was any relation to the Matou family, as they also had natural purple hair and eyes.

Before they could fully admire the new servant, a pitifully weak voice sounded from behind. "It can't be-" it croaked, despair evident in the tone.

As Shirou turned to the voice, he caught the new servant stiffen and gain a look of shock. Facing his own servant, he saw blatant depression, eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the man now behind him."

"My liege-?" the man questioned.

"You do not remember?" the girl interrupted with a question, looking hopelessly lost. Blinking, the knight furrowed her brow and put on a straight face. "I see, this is some cruel trick of fate."

"I do not understand what you mean. Beyond the obvious, is there a problem with my presence?" Stepping back, Shirou gripped Illya's hand and pulled the girl back as well. This allowed open space between the two servants so they could speak between one another.

Saber shut her eyes, shaking her head a few times. Even Shirou noticed that she was visibly distressed. Shaking her head a few short times, the girl put on a weak smile. "No, no. It is good to see a… familiar face," she claimed, carefully selecting her words.

The knight in white stumbled to produce a response. It was odd to see such a strong, royal looking knight being so clumsy. He cleared his throat and regained some composure eventually at least. "We must speak in private later, my liege." Turning to the small homunculus beside Shirou, he spotted the faintly glowing command seals on her hand. "Our connection is unmistakable, you are my master - and a powerful little one at that."

The compliment brought a smile from Illya and she maliciously sneered up toward her brother. "I told you my servant would be stronger."

The boy opened his mouth to speak but a haughty feminine voice from toward the entrance beat him to the punch. "Pardon me?"

… … …

… … ...

Gathering in the dining room, Kiritsugu quickly went to work explaining the current state of the war to the servants, ensuring they would not hold any rivalry against one another. He made it expressly clear that there was no chance for _any_ wish to be granted, and that they were fighting for victory in the War to dismantle the system entirely so it wouldn't destroy the world by actualizing Angra Manyu, the supposed corruptor, to grant another's wish. These facts were all well known to everyone in the Emiya house besides Lancer, who took the news as well as could be expected. He agreed to assist, claiming their goal to be righteous and just.

Kiritsugu had taken a considerable amount of time making the heinous nature of the Grail perfectly clear and toward the end, Shirou and Illya were struggling to stay awake. Once certain the servants were clear on their motivation, he asked for their input. It was then that Saber decided to voice her concerns from earlier.

"I bear no ill will to you for the end of the previous Grail War. We were up against an insurmountable force and your command seals were unjustly stripped from you. I may not agree with your actions and methodology, but that does not excuse me for failing you as a servant and for that I apologize." The girl bowed her head deeply. "I hope you can forgive me, Kiritsugu Emiya."

Awkwardly, the man in question cleared his throat. "I accept your apology, though I feel the blame is shared on both our parts," he admitted, taking a sip of coffee as the servant seated herself.

"How can you remember the last time you were summoned?" Shirou quickly asked, getting the most concerning question off his chest.

It was only due to his still active circuits that he caught the imperceptible tensing of muscles within the knight's body. "I do not know for certain, but it is best to use the information to our advantage whenever possible."

"Saber's right," the old man added on. "All that is important is that she does remember. She is more familiar with the current situation than our new servant, a benefit no matter how it is looked at."

Seated across the old man was the male knight. It was amusing to see such a large person in gaudy gear settle onto a small zabuton, though that was beside the point. Staring at the much smaller, dark-haired man across from him, he spoke. "I admit, I feel like quite the outsider at this moment." With a soft bang, intricately crafted gauntlets were seated squarely onto the table, halfway into fists.

"You are Lancer, correct?" Kiritsugu asked, getting a nod from the large male knight. "We were quite fortunate to summon another Knight of the Round. I hope this is a sign that our attempt at the Grail will be trivial."

"The Knight of the Lake, Lancelot. It feels good to be fighting alongside my king once more." He offered the king in question a pained smile which went unreciprocated.

"The Once and Future King, Arturia Pendragon. I have met both Illya and Kiritsugu before, so my greeting extends mostly to you, master." Her emerald eyes bored holes into Shirou's, almost forcing him to turn his head with the intensity.

"I don't have any titles, but it's nice to meet you both," he responded. Reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, Shirou continued with, "do you think you could stop calling me _master_ as well? My name is Shirou."

The blonde knight nodded. "Very well, Shirou." Hearing such a royal foreign accent speaking his name gave him a strange feeling that made him subconsciously look away.

Lancelot leaned down toward Illya, armour producing a creak as he did so. "Master, does your sibling always blush like that?"

Illya snickered. "I'll tell you what I think later. I don't want Saber to kill me."

"In any case, the odds are stacked in our favour - so we can rest easy for today." Producing a large yawn and stretching his arms languidly, the man drearily looked at those around the table. "We'll start preparing and training tomorrow. During the night, Lancer, I would like you to patrol the exterior of the house as you can enter spirit form - correct?" The servant nodded, giving his king a questioning look but nothing more. "Saber can ensure the interior remains protected."

The two servants looked toward their respective masters who both nodded in agreement with their father's plan. "I will oversee Shirou's safety by staying within his room through the night," Saber commented, garnering strange looks from everyone else - including her own knight.

Shirou sent a look of concern. What was she planning? "Uh-"

"No!" Illya finished for him. "Shirou and I already sleep in the same room, he doesn't need anyone else," she pouted, appearing quite hurt.

With each comment, Shirou wanted to sink further into the ground and disappear. If this conversation got any more awkward, he would honestly throw himself out of the nearest wall. "Can we just get some sleep?"

… … …

… … …

"I doubt you will ever be able to forgive me, my liege," Lancer began, staring bitterly toward the starry sky.

Saber approached his side, pausing as she tried to spot what he might have been staring at up there. "You are wrong, Lancelot. I never once resented you for your decisions. I blame myself for what happened between you and Guinevere. It was foolish of me to expect a different result."

"You're wrong. I renounced everything and destroyed your trust by claiming your queen as my own. I ran away, fearful that I would face punishment, though I did try to return in your aid at the battle of Camlann." Twisting her head to gaze up at him with surprise, he merely nodded softly. "Gawain turned me away. Rightfully so, after I had slain his next of kin in cold blood when I rescued Guinevere from execution." His voice took on a resentful tone. "I can't help but wonder if my involvement would have spared Briton from her fate."

"I admire your loyalty, Lancelot. Even after all that had transpired, you attempted to return to my side." Taking in a shaky breath, the King of Knights examined the face of her greatest and most loyal knight. "Would you believe me if I told you I killed you in another life?"

He chuckled humorlessly, turning and staring down at her with that stern face of his. "Absolutely. Considering I deserve death for my actions."

Saber shook her head. "What if I told you it was during this life. Not _then_ when we were alive, but recently - ten years ago." Flickering memories of that rainy night battling Berserker came back to her. That twisted, pallid wrinkle-filled face and those wild eyes. Teeth sharpened to points and murderous intent in every action. He was the embodiment of the insane grief _she_ had directly caused. It was _her_ fault that he became that monstrosity. All of that was nothing to the man she faced now, the man she knew. Could she find redemption in him now? "As you've heard, I've been in this Grail War once before - and you were as well."

Lancer was rightfully taken aback, staring down with concern. "If that is the case, why do I not remember such a thing as you do?"

"Because I am different," she claimed, hesitantly looking around. "You and I are servants, but that is where our similarities end." She was harbouring her secret though her comrade could tell easily.

The concerned look grew deeper but abated after a moment of eye contact between the two. "You withheld secrets then for good reason, so I will place my trust in you now."

"You were part of the berserker class."

Surprisingly, he hardly reacted at all. In fact, he even shrugged and nodded. "I can see that quite easily, yes." Producing a hollow laugh, he faced the stars once more. "Rather fitting in fact. I assume you were the target of my madness?"

She nodded, recalling several times where Berserker had singled her out specifically. "I understand that I was the source of your madness, hence why I blame myself."

"It hardly matters in the end. I never went mad during my lifetime. Once Briton had fallen apart around us, I entered a monastery to repent of my sins and died peacefully in my sleep during my senior years. I felt no remorse for what I had done to you, but was plagued by the lingering guilt of what I had done to Guinevere, condemning her to cry forevermore."

Saber nodded, closing her eyes with her face pointed toward the ground. "As I have said before, I shall say once more. Guinevere shouldered a burden greater than any Knight of the Round. It was a tragedy, truly."

The two comrades in arms sat silently, digesting their dialogue before Lancer cleared his throat and softly asked, "So I can assume I claimed victory in our battle?"

Snapping her head upright, Saber narrowed her eyes at the man. "You lost to me countless times in the circle, you assume something to have changed in your favour?"

The saddened smile on her knight returned. "I would like to note that you did not agree or disagree, so I'll be claiming victory should anyone ask."

Narrowing her eyes further, the King of Knights felt her blood boil with competitive rage. "We shall see how well you perform in the dojo tomorrow. I surely won't be holding back."

"Nor will I."

Saber forced air through her nose, letting the silence of the night return. "Lancer," she began suddenly when a question struck her. "If you became a servant, you must have had a wish. What might it have been?"

"A wish?" he asked himself, looking down to his own two hands. "A wish, yes." Turning to face his king, his face split into an unnaturally genuine grin. "The chance to fight alongside my king once more." A smile edged itself onto her own face. "Though-" he began, before being silenced by the clearing of a throat off to their side.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," came a soft excusing. Stepping down from the engawa, the pale figure of a woman moved toward them.

Saber had caught sight of the girl earlier and while she wasn't seated at the table during their briefing, Kiritsugu had informed her that the woman's name was Missy. So Maiya had fallen during the last war? Or had Kiritsugu gotten her killed sometime after? Regardless, it didn't take long for the man to deceive another into working under his rule. "Not at all, did you desire something from us?"

The girl nodded, lifting the folded article in her hand into view. "Master Kiritsugu suggested I give these to you - he said you would enjoy such a gift." Transferring the attire over, the woman turned to Lancer before bowing partly. "I apologize but we do not have anything in your size as of yet. In two days, we should be able to find something similar, if you so desire."

Saber recognized what it was immediately, but she unfolded it to allow Lancelot to bear witness. It was her black suit, the same one - at least appearance-wise - that she had worn while serving under Kiritsugu. As it had been selected by his wife, Irisviel, rather than the man himself, she had no ill memories associated with it.

"I see all of the attention formerly spent on upholding justice was moved to tailoring. Petty comments aside, I must admit that it is quite dashing," Lancelot agreed, admiring the suit from over her shoulder.

There was something attached to the tie however, a metal clip that was extremely out of place. Removing the piece and turning it over, Saber revealed a single squarish key with the words " _Yamaha_ " engraved on the metal.

… … …

He couldn't sleep. Illya had fallen asleep quickly enough, but Shirou simply couldn't relax enough to drift off. Beyond that, he had the feeling that his nightmares were going to get particularly bad. Kiritsugu hadn't experienced it himself, likely on account of his inability to sleep period, but the man had explained that masters often had glimpses into the history of their servants through dreams.

That wasn't the most pressing reason as to why he couldn't sleep. He was concerned about his sister and that was brought on entirely by the sunlike glow of Avalon. If it was reacting and working this way inside of him, was it reversing the harmful effects plaguing Illya?

He hoped so, he really wanted it to be so. If Avalon, fueled by Saber's mana, was enough to extend her life by even a couple years, it was more than worth the effort of going through the Grail War.

Even if he died but she lived on happily for those few extra years, it was worth it. Closing his eyes, he softly murmured his iconic phrase and the lines to increase the quality of his projections. As was ritualistic for him every night since the first night he began this, he created a projection of Avalon, dematerialized the partially degraded one within Illya and replaced it with a freshened copy. While one copy would last two days without fully disappearing, he preferred being safe.

As the golden sheath was fully absorbed the girl made a soft noise and shifted in the futon, murmuring something in her sleep. "Shirou? Where are you?"

Her hands reached out to where he would have been laying, instead landing on the soft quilting with a dull thump. Carefully, he used one hand to pull back the hair from the side of her face, resting his palm against her cheek. The brief contact was enough to pacify her and the girl quickly returned to softly snoring in the dark room.

Running his hand along the side of her head to comb back her hair, he stood quietly and moved toward the dresser near the entrance of his room. Opening the top drawer, he carefully withdrew a steel case with two snap latches and placed it on top. Opening the latches as quiet as he could, he cracked open the lid and was surprised to find the indented foam was empty.

This had been Shirou's gift. The pearl-handled showroom pistols engraved with the name of Kiritsugu's former assistant. Had they been stolen or moved? While he could always project them, he did enjoy appreciating the genuine article every now and then.

There was one thing that remained. He hadn't caught it upon first glance, but a closer look revealed a small folded note. Taking and opening it up, he read English obviously written by Kiritsugu: "Borrowed".

… … …

An echoing boom rattled the very walls of the dojo as two shinais locked into a power struggle. So much force had collided, it was a miracle that both hadn't exploded violently into splinters. In fact, they already had once before. Shirou had projected and reinforced these ones so they wouldn't meet the same fate as their ancestors.

One of them wasn't even his own anymore. He had projected it, sure, but as soon as Lancer had wrapped his hands around it, he lost all control over it. In fact, it was so altered, he couldn't even dematerialize or recognize it was his own creation. To signify this shift, the entire surface was altered into an eerie violet with spiderwebs of golden lines in random, asymmetrical patterns. Tracing the modified weapon, Shirou realized that it had become a noble phantasm and its properties were elevated to levels he couldn't even dream of reaching.

One thing was for certain, it was more powerful than a normal shinai as Saber had to actively use mana bursts to counter the increased strength. "Too slow!" the man shouted, planting his foot between Saber's feet. Advancing forward, he forced the girl stumbling backwards while simultaneously shoving her ruthlessly with his upper body.

Thrown entirely off her feet, Saber landed unceremoniously on her rear, Shirou quickly called the fight in Lancer's favour and recounted the score. "Eight to two in Lancer's favour."

Growling like an angry animal, the petite knight bounced to her feet and readied her blade. "Best of seventeen," she stated ominously, re-engaging with the allure of victory blazing in her eyes.

The two had changed since last night into much simpler attire far from the metal plate mail they both donned for combat. Both servants had the capacity to dematerialize their armour, but the obvious age of their attire made them stick out. Oddly enough, Kiritsugu had a set of conservative, effeminate modern clothing that fit Saber perfectly. How he managed such a thing was probably best left unknown. Lancer wasn't offered the same luxury, as none of the clothing anyone else had was large enough for him to wear comfortably.

"So what I can see from this is that my servant is definitely stronger," Illya taunted once again, getting a sorrowful sigh from Shirou.

"I don't think it's about being stronger. What matters most is whether or not a servant can successfully counter another. Both of our servants would be useless if the enemy held them at range."

Struggling to hold back the rage-filled Saber, Lancer shot Shirou a fleeting glance. "Speak for yourself. I have mastery of all things considered a weapon, so ranged opponents are no problem for me-!" he shouted, batted away Saber's shinai with the back of his forearm and moved to swing the wooden blade overhead with one hand toward her face.

With dexterity Shirou could hardly comprehend, Saber contorted her body to barely slip along the side of the attack. With a bark, the woman slammed the hilt into his shoulder, blasting him back with mana to give her time to prepare a stance.

She was using an incredible amount of mana, though he didn't notice it as much as he expected. Was she somehow mitigating the draw on his own body? To make matters worse, this was only a spar - not even a real battle. With a very vague guess, he estimated he could only fuel her with mana for an hour at full power. If he projected weaponry or clothing, that time would only go down.

Shirou scratched the back of his head. "Well, I guess we're well-rounded in that way then."

"Not to mention my servant has _three_ noble phantasms," Illya gloated, admiring her servant as he battled the King of Knights.

While Saber technically had three as well, Kiritsugu had specifically told him _not_ to allow her to see Avalon. Shirou didn't ask why that was, but he was the Magus Killer after all - he undoubtedly had his reasons. "Still have to remember counters," Shirou pointed out - though he did feel as if he had drawn the shorter of the two straws in this situation.

If adaptability was his strong suit, a servant like Lancer would work much better. He could quite literally give the servant any weapon and make it their noble phantasm. For that reason alone, Shirou felt that Lancer would have been the better servant to summon though since he hadn't witnessed Saber in genuine combat, it wasn't much of a fair assessment.

The door to the dojo slid open and the form of Kiritsugu stepped inside. Rather than wear his lush kimono for lounging, the man had put on a suit Shirou had only seen a few times before.

"Ah, I see you've already begun testing one another, splendid." Stepping further inside, he watched the two servants make battle beside his children. There was an obvious winner and it definitely wasn't the one whose name should have indicated a skill in swordsmanship. "I have to say, you summoned quite the servant, Illya. Shirou, what are his parameters in comparison to Saber?"

Shirou hesitated for a moment but quickly moved to focus on the two servants. As if something else was speaking to him, six parameters and their corresponding letters were revealed to him. "Endurance and Agility are both A rank. Strength and mana register as B, luck comes in at E and his noble phantasm is A plus, plus."

"Interesting. So the Berserker variant likely had skills above that. To think Saber managed to defeat such a creature," Kiritsugu mumbled, squinting at the blonde knight. "The two-plus modifier indicates that his noble phantasm has the ability to perform at three times the normal level. This multiplication relies on specific scenarios or events. It could derive its power from his emotions, see what you can discover about that, Illya."

The girl nodded while staring intently at Saber. "Strength, endurance and agility are all B rank. Mana and luck are A rank and her noble phantasm is also A plus, plus. Looks like your servant is luckier but not as tough or fast."

Still watching Lancer, Shirou caught something. "Hold on, his parameters just changed while he made that swing. For a minute, he had B plus ranked strength."

"That's impossible, parameters don't change," Kiritsugu commented, turning his head to Illya as she made a hum. "And his agility just changed to A-plus then."

"At the same time, his strength returned to B," Shirou confirmed. "Lancelot is changing his parameters to suit his needs somehow," he concluded.

Kiritsugu made a strange noise. "I've never heard of a servant doing such a thing."

Saber made a pained noise, skidding backwards in an attempt at remaining her balance while raising her weapon to defend another attack. Lancer was relentless, easily pushing the smaller woman to her limits with a flurry of blows Shirou couldn't even keep track of before spontaneously gripping her sword and converting it into one of his own noble phantasms. In a puff of silver and golden shards, the shinai exploded and allowed Lancer to swing his own blade straight for her head.

Expecting a loud thwack, Shirou was surprised when Lancer stopped a few inches away. "I'd call that a victory, wouldn't you?"

With fire burning behind her eyes, Saber made a "tsk" and dejectedly turned away from the knight.

Lancer merely smirked, resting his palm atop the shinai that was out to his side. Kiritsugu raised his voice toward Saber then, asking, "Still have energy to burn, Saber?"

The knight turned toward him and nodded rightfully. "My reserves are adequate."

"As expected. Shirou," he called, placing one hand upon his son's head. "I'd like to see how you fare sparring with Saber."

Several voices questioned the man's sanity with a single outraged word. Saber was the most appalled. "You can't be serious. A normal human stands no chance against a servant."

"So they say," Kiritsugu murmured. "Whether you can be harmed or not doesn't matter. I would like to see if Shirou could survive contact with a servant and I imagine he does as well."

Questioning eyes turned to the boy who made a half-hearted shrug. "I was interested, but I don't think I could stand a chance against an expert of the blade like Saber."

"Nonsense, you won't know until you try."

"At least it won't be as difficult as fighting me," Lancer pointed out, merely teasing Saber more.

Eventually, the boy stood and asked, "Are you willing to spar with me, Saber?"

The question seemed to calm the girl down somewhat, as she looked toward him and nodded rigidly. "If that is your desire, I will oblige."

Lancer traded placed with Shirou, with the former becoming a spectator as Shirou projected new shinai to be used during the match. Unlike Saber, Shirou used two shinais, altered to be shorter, heavier and perfectly balanced. He knew how to use the shinai as it was intended, with two hands, and despite the queer looks he received, he knew better than anyone that this was his preferred style.

Once the two agreed that they were ready, the spar began and Shirou found himself quickly on the defensive. Saber was fast, absurdly so and equally as strong. Defending the initial strike rattled his arms and made him realize that he needed to reinforce himself as if this were a fight of life or death. By the time he had completed that, the second strike had landed. With his body fully prepared, he handled it much better and he started migrating to his suicidal tactic to start predicting her moves.

He understood her tactics. He had been watching her battle Lancelot for the past hour and he had all of her combat history from Excalibur to further support him. Couple that knowledge with her lack of his ability, he had a decent chance to succeed in this first spar.

With a cry, the girl tried to exploit a seemingly open space on his side. Having already expected her to fall into that trap, he used one weapon to defend and the other to make a sharp thrust toward her abdomen.

Eyes opening wide, the knight twisted, and bounced back out of his range. He could see in her eyes that she understood her underestimation of him was a mistake. He had nearly gotten the better of her and if he had used Time Alter, he would have made a decisive strike.

Reevaluating her plan of attack, the knight returned to striking range with more caution than her first attempt. Comparing Saber to Bazett would be an insult to the servant. Like the executioner he had fought, Saber was stronger, faster and more experienced than he could hope to be and it showed with the seamless, powerful strikes of the knight.

He had been able to make an attempt at striking in the first few strikes, but there was no such opening any longer. There simply wasn't a gap in her blows anymore and the power had been increased significantly. He needed to use both weapons to block each strike and the reinforced shinai in his hands were on the verge of shattering as consequence. Saber broke away for a moment, which gave him a chance to reproject a new set of shinai but only after throwing the two near-broken ones toward her as distracting projectiles.

His tactic was effective, as the knight used her weapon to bat the objects away, simultaneously leaving her wide open. " **Time Alter: Double Accel!** "

Time slowed down around him and he immediately moved to capitalize on the opening. Dashing forward, he ducked underneath Saber's guard. Using one hand to keep the lower arm holding up her sword in place, he jabbed the remaining weapon into the center of her chest, ending the time alter as he contacted her.

With a hollow thump and a sharp exhale, the woman stumbled backwards, gasping for air as her diaphragm reacted to the sudden impact. As he returned to moving normally, Shirou felt surprisingly _good_.

Normally whenever he used Time Alter, he felt absolutely terrible and had full-body pain. This time, the pain had faded away almost immediately. He was so distracted by the new change, that he barely caught an overhead strike rapidly approaching.

Crossing his two shinais in the same path, he caught the blade, producing another miniature explosion as the raw power shook his arms down to both legs. The servant redoubled her efforts, and after the third defended strike it proved too much for his faulty weapons.

When her shinai rebounded off his own weapons, they shattered entirely and the blade carried through to strike his side. With a grunt, the weapon collapsed his body to the side and Shirou scrambled to stand.

The pain was sharp, shooting and would leave a gnarly bruise but it faded surprisingly quick into a dull ache. Unable to survey the damage, Shirou recreated his weapons and barely parried another incoming attack.

Saber wasn't letting up and she was pressing him to the ropes at every turn. As it typically was, this was another fight he couldn't win, but one he could survive. After blocking an innumerable amount of blows at breakneck speed, his guard finally faltered. His tired arms had miscalculated where he needed to place his guard by two inches, but it was enough to off-balance his weapons and lay the foundation for his ruin on Saber's next attack.

Trying to compensate for the slip-up while simultaneously reacting to another attack proved impossible and Saber's blade quickly slipped past his guard entirely to rebound off the side of his skull.

With a mighty crack, Shirou's vision temporarily blacked out before returning in a painful flash. Subconsciously, he used his arms to break the fall, but he didn't realize he was already staring at the floor for a good minute. There were too many stars floating around his darkened vision to have confirmed such a thing prior to that.

Shaking his head to try and clear these abnormalities was a mistake as a ruthlessly pounding headache struck him with every movement. "Even though you lost, to survive for so long going against a servant is extremely commendable," Saber commented somewhere in the distance. At that moment, Shirou was having trouble differentiating between an inch and a foot, so he couldn't really tell _what_ was going on.

"While unable to handle my greatest attempt, you managed up until that point, which is unprecedented for a human." Casting a bleary glance toward his servant, he was able to see her point something in his direction. Whether it was her hand or the shinai he projected, he couldn't tell. At this point, he was worried that she had turned parts of his brain into paste.

"How did you acquire the strength necessary to perform such a feat?" she asked, somewhat mimicked by Lancer who had asked the question to Illya and Kiritsugu.

Struggling to form words, Shirou did reply eventually. "I've been preparing for this- my whole life."

The answer satisfied the knight, as she carefully kneeled down to his side, laying a hand on his shoulder. At her contact, there was a noticeable wave of relief that forced its way through his entire body. A moment away from asking what she had done, he watched his vision clear and the headache he was experiencing disappear as well.

He caught sight of the culprit as he blinked. Avalon had connected itself through him to its intended master and the healing factor was extreme - impossibly so.

What he had thought would take minutes or hours to recover from faded away entirely within a few seconds. He carefully stood, much to the shock of those around him. Cautiously, he checked the side of his body where Saber had landed a blow just a short time earlier. He had expected the first signs of a bruise, but the skin at that point was pristine. Touching it didn't even bring about any pain either.

"Your fortitude is commendable as well," Saber noted, looking as if he had just grown a second head.

"I guess," he began, looking down at his own hands, "you didn't hit me as hard as you thought." It was a lie, that strike would have outright killed him had he not reinforced himself as well as he had. It was a lie to preserve the illusion that her sheath didn't exist.

The knight paused to examine her own hands as the shinai grasped within dematerialized into blue sparks. "Where did you learn such an interesting combat technique? Were you instructed by another?"

Shaking his head, Shirou merely shrugged and explained, "Nobody ever taught me. It was just the style I felt most comfortable with."

Humming, the woman lifted up his arms and examined his body in fine detail, carefully prodding at various points that made him twitch though he didn't dare claim his discomfort. "You might have made for a passable knight in my time."

Clearing his throat from the side, Lancer quickly added in his two cents. "Of all the Knights of the Round, I have only witnessed two who were able to lay a finger on you, my liege. The first, myself and the second being Gawain during a summer's day."

"It is best not to give praise excessively, Lancer, lest the praised grow to be overconfident," Saber snapped back as cool as ice. Staring into Shirou's eyes she offered him a nod. "While you may be somewhat effective in combat, I would prefer if you did not risk your life handling servants I would be better suited for."

Shirou furrowed his brow. "You want me to sit back while you handle the servant on your own?" When she blatantly agreed with his clarification, he merely shook his head. "I'm not going to do that. I won't let you fight on your own and if we can work together, we can handle whatever threat is thrown at us."

Saber indignantly shook her head, face set in absolute seriousness. "The risk posed by your involvement is too great. You do not have the capacity to defend against noble phantasms and it is equally possible that your involvement could be a liability."

"You're saying I'll just get in the way," Shirou surmised.

"It is not that you are unable, but your sensitive status as a master makes you the easiest target for a servant or even enemy masters for that matter."

"Then what if we play a game of deception?" Kiritsugu asked.

Saber immediately voiced her opinion. "I refuse to play your games once more, Kiritsugu."

"Perhaps I used the wrong phrase. Strategy is far from a game. In the last war, our contact was limited to ensure your cooperation, but no secrets were held from you." Shirou knew better of course. The biggest secret of all, Avalon, had been - and was still being - hidden. "It was your own negligence in asking questions that made it appear to be deceit."

"Had I asked any question, you would have answered it?" The man agreed more or less with a passive gesture. He must have fallen into her trap because she narrowed her eyes righteously and asked, "Do you know the identity of Caster?"

Even from a distance and with a brain the consistency of oatmeal, Shirou could see his father stiffen. "I do, I have a very firm idea on who Caster was."

There was a period of silence following that was laden with expectations. Eventually, Saber realized what was going on. "You have no intentions of telling me, do you?"

"I do not. There was a reason Caster did not reveal it to you and it is more important than ever that you continue to seek the answer for yourself without guidance." His words were concise and clear while simultaneously being devoid of anger or malice. He was concerned, though could a man like him really be concerned over a servant?

"If I were to correctly guess Caster's identity, would you verify it?"

The man made an uncertain face. "I don't see how you could correctly guess such a thing, however, I will humour you and agree."

Lancer made a noise with his mouth, attracting the attention of the two rival strategists. "I have abilities which may coincide with what you intend to pull off, but if my king deems them dishonest or unjust, I wouldn't even so much as humour them in conversation."

The king in question wasted no time in responding. "I know precisely what you have in mind, Lancer, and we will not be doing something so underhanded."

The man lifted both hands to convey that his decision had been made. Kiritsugu didn't look disappointed. Rather, he seemed amused. "At least I tried. If that is your decision, you can attempt to persuade Shirou to follow it." The man casually stepped toward the door, pausing as he opened it enough to exit. "Prepare for a true test of your patience, King of Knights."

… … …

… … …

With a noise of pain, Shirou landed on his back, panting heavily as he struggled to move. "I have bested you ten consecutive times. Do you still refuse to take a passive approach to this War?"

Growling, Shirou used the shattered hilt of his projected shinai to heft himself onto his feet. "Of course. Whether you beat me ten or a hundred times it doesn't matter," he responded stubbornly, standing on wobbly, failing legs. It was obvious that he was in no condition to continue sparring but that certainly wouldn't stop him from making an attempt.

"Shirou, what will it take for you to see that you simply cannot match a servant?"

Locking his legs to regain some control, he stared defiantly into Saber's emerald eyes. "You'll have to kill me before I'll ever give up fighting to protect my family." The shattered weapons in his hands were remade into fresh ones.

Sighing at length, the knight lowered her weapon. "That's what this is all about? Is your faith in me really so low as to deem my protection inadequate? Not only I, but one of my greatest knights also stands beside me; is that not enough?"

"Shouldn't you know better than I do about this? The forces we face in this War might be more than all of us combined could handle."

Saber appeared quite hurt by that comment. "I assure you, Shirou, that I am capable of handling whatever enemy we might face."

The Emiya lowered his own weapons partly. "Then- I'll agree to stay out of battles." His servant looked hopeful, grateful to finally put an end to this once and for all. "On one condition: If we face an enemy you cannot defeat, I'll be allowed to assist."

The agreement would satisfy them both and it would also serve to put an end to this endless battle between them. While Saber couldn't tire physically, she certainly could mentally and in that capacity, she was at the end of her rope just as Shirou was. Fully letting down her weapon, the knight nodded with signs of exhaustion. "If that is the greatest compromise you are willing to make then I have no choice but to accept it. It is better than nothing at the very least."

Without a "threat" to urge him forward, everything non-essential shut down. His legs, arms and circuits all flickered off simultaneously and his body collapsed onto his knees. Saber shouted out her concern and while he tried to assure her that it wasn't a matter to be worried about, he just couldn't speak.

Hastily moving to his side, Saber was quick to try moving him toward help, concerned for his health. After claiming he was fine with what strength he had, she hesitantly looked toward the door while maintaining a tight grip on his arm. "You have pushed yourself too hard, why did you not stop earlier?"

"If I did, you would have used it as an example of my weakness," he pointed out. With Saber's contact came that strange, extreme regeneration he had experienced earlier. The wounds he had sustained, the muscles he had torn with repeated, excessive use and even the fatigue that plagued his body noticeably faded away.

It was all due to Avalon, of course. While Shirou had thought the relic to be something of a miracle before, it was simply _ridiculous_ when fully powered by its true owner. Replenishing his mana pool was the only thing it seemingly wouldn't do, but that would be asking for quite a lot considering what it already provided.

Within seconds, he felt good enough to stand, and he surprised his servant by doing so. "Shirou, you-"

"I told you, I'm fine," he claimed, wiping the sweat from his forehead as she continued glaring at him with incredulity. "I'll start preparing dinner soon, but I'll need to clean myself up before then." Not waiting for her to respond, he began walking to complete his mentioned objectives, stumbling once as his body fully adjusted to the rapid shift from exhausted to energized.

… … …

… … …

Rin couldn't help but hold her head in her hand. Through the cracks in her fingers, she could see the brilliant crimson fluid etched neatly onto the floor of her workshop. Would it even matter now? What point would it serve to go through with the Grail War?

Caster, Lancer, Saber and Berserker were already summoned. At this point, the best servant class she could hope to get was _Archer_ and the mere thought of considering that class the _best_ outcome was pitiful.

Groaning in frustration, the girl moved her hand up to tug at her hair. She had practically lost already. She _needed_ a Saber-class servant to ensure her victory in this war and honour her family. If she had missed her chance with Saber, she could have at least summoned Lancer, but that servant had been summoned the same night as Saber. Two knight-class servants taken in a single night; what were the odds?

After lamenting within her mind for long enough, the girl gazed at the seals etched across the back of her hand. Even if she wouldn't be able to summon the servant she wanted, she could still defeat the other masters using her supreme skill as a magus.

Glancing toward the large grandfather clock in the study, she noted the time. While it read ten to one, she knew better than to believe it. Months ago, after opening her father's box, every clock in the house had ritualistically moved forward an hour each morning. While initially disorienting, Aoi diligently fixed each clock soon after the change occurred to keep them in time.

There was only one clock left untouched - this one. As Aoi never entered the study, she couldn't fix the time so it remained one hour fast. Rin chalked it up to her father playing one more practical joke on her beyond the grave. It was either that or some symbolic message she couldn't find the meaning in.

In either case, she had a little work to do before she could summon her servant and finding her charged gemstones was first priority. How else could she summon the strongest servant?

… … …

"Stupid, damned-" she growled before mentally damning the consequences of her next action. In an instant, she reinforced her entire body and slammed it shoulder first into the door. The impact managed to blow the door open by shredding the wooden frame. Carrying forward into the living room, a loud bang echoed throughout the house as the door slammed into the wall unrestricted. "-door!"

There had been a loud noise from this room after completing her summoning. There was no other explanation for its source, but why hadn't the servant appeared within the circle?

Half stumbling, half walking, Rin made note of the collapsed ceiling and haphazardly strewn about furniture. It was almost like the servant had been a missile launched from the sky rather than a long-dead hero.

After assessing the damages, she immediately locked eyes with the oddity in the room - her servant. There was no mistaking that face; even though it looked older and held a smug smirk she had never seen before, she knew him well. There had been a look of familiarity shared between them as their eyes met, but all at once that familiarity became one-sided. Without sharing a word, she could tell that he didn't remember her.

"You're-"

A shout cut her off midway. It was Aoi, calling her name as she closed the distance. "Rin, what's going on? I heard a loud noise, are you alright?" Entering the room, the woman fell silent, likely coming across the same sight as her daughter. "It's-"

"Yeah, it is," Rin confirmed. Something of note was the look of surprised confusion on the servant's face as her mother entered the room.

A period of awkward silence ensued as the three people present took in one another and their silent expressions. Rin felt as if she was handling it the worst. She was claustrophobic, unable to get a proper breath which made her feel extremely light-headed. This meant so much, there were so many possibilities. She felt like crying, passing out and just giving up all at once. Had she instantly contracted a case of severe depression?

Soft footsteps broke the silence as Rin's mother calmly descended the stairs. Tenderly, she consoled her visibly distressed daughter by rubbing her back. "At least you know what he is capable of," she murmured, trying to find a light in the darkness.

Closing her eyes, the younger Tohsaka let out a shaky breath. "But now I might have to watch him die twice."

The servant who had been sitting with an air of cocky confidence rose with the shortened proximity of Aoi. Something about her was enough to make him act with more dignity. The woman sighed, looking the servant up and down to reconfirm what was already known.

"Why don't we all calm down with a cup of tea?" she suggested. "Shirou, do you still enjoy black tea with honey?"

* * *

 **Well, the Grail War is finally taking shape!**

 **For all of you who expected Hercules - How?  
Illya doesn't have the marble slab, so how could she summon him?**

 **And yes, quite a few servants have already been summoned. Will you get to see who they are and who summoned who?  
**

 **¯\** **_(ツ)_/¯**

 **Guess you'll just have to wait and see in the next chapter!**

 **As stated in the intro notes, I'm repeating the bad news I have here again: My laptop is dying. I've done everything I can to save it, reformatting the drive three times but there's a problem in the hardware that I just can't fix. I don't know how long it'll last, and it's lasted for this long, but if I don't make a post for a while - you know what has happened. There's nothing I'd like to do more than buy a new one and get on with writing for you all, but uni is coming up again and I just don't have the money. It's unfortunate, but stuff happens. I'll do my best to keep putting out content for you, but should my laptop finally bite the bucket, I'll be forced to write from mobile, something which could delay new chapters by a month at the minimum.**

 **Sorry to end on a depressing note, as always - favourite, follow and leave a review! I love reading all of your opinions and input and answering your questions is my favourite. Good or bad, your voice is always important and worth using!**


	23. House of Cards

**EDIT:** **Black goes with everything. New truck? Black. Don't know what to wear? Black. The best colour to edit google docs in the middle of the night when you don't want to wake people up? Black. Sometimes that bright white hurts my eyes :(**

 **Hello everybody! I know it's been a while and I know I published another chapter for another fic before this one, but EoE is significantly easier to edit and the beta working on that was available at the time.**

 **Because of some communication issues between me and my wonderful beta, Talndir, this chapter was delayed (Sorry). You'll be happy to know that the next chapter is pretty much finished though!**

 **We also breached 100k views! I'm quite proud personally, hope you all enjoy the neat milestone too.**

 **Well, it's that time again, let's get right into it!**

* * *

Lancer's story checked out. The man wielded whatever weapon Shirou threw at him with astonishing masterful ability. Swords, axes, bows, shields, even small sticks that could only be classified as a weapon in the direst of situations.

From his demonstration with Saber to this uncanny ability, Shirou would almost agree with Illya and her claims of having the stronger servant. While far from _disappointing_ , Saber certainly wasn't the unstoppable blademaster that he had expected.

Something redeeming was Saber's experience in fighting alongside Lancer. This meant that neither would become a liability in combat due to their partnership. They could cooperate together with increased efficiency. That, along with their already high status as two of the three knight-class servants would hopefully make them unstoppable.

After spending some time training Lancer and performing his morning training ritual, Shirou prepared an overwhelmingly large breakfast for the servants and his family. In order to account for the two servants who would also be eating, he took the same amount of food he would eat, then added double that, expecting each one to eat as much as he could.

With so much food being made, Shirou ran some calculations and felt his bank account crying prematurely. Hopefully, this Grail War wouldn't last very long, because if it did, he would have to borrow some money from Kiritsugu to support how much food was being made.

After setting the dishes on the table, he gathered Lancer and Saber who had been diligently acting as sentries around the house. As usual, he neglected to wake anyone and drag them out for breakfast, allowing every other resident to get their rest or complete what they needed to before naturally making their way to eat breakfast. Since he typically made it around the same time each day, things simply worked better that way.

"Shirou, as a servant I do not require food to survive," Saber claimed, getting a complimentary motion from Lancer as they both stood awkwardly around the table.

Shirou stared at her and blinked twice, letting his face split into a soft smirk. "That's nice, now sit down and have breakfast."

The two servants were stunned into silence, but both settled at a seat around the table. After a brief count, Shirou realized that they wouldn't have enough seats if another guest arrived. With four on each side and one at each head, they would need to upgrade to a larger table to support more than six people comfortably. Maybe Kiritsugu could find another, larger table and somehow shoehorn it into the kitchen.

Hesitantly, the two knights delivered a modest portion to their own plates. They began eating at a slow pace, seemingly apprehensive of the meal. After the first few bites, their attention became devoted to finishing the meal and adding more to their plates.

Oyakodon, miso shiru, shokupan toast and a spinach-laden rolled omelette were all components of the healthy meal Shirou had prepared for his guests.

As for Illya, her specially made breakfast was waiting in the oven, remaining hot for when she stepped into the room. As she preferred breakfast laden with sugar and sweets and Shirou felt that she deserved it due to her circumstances, he cooked her something separate each morning. When she woke up, she would get to enjoy upside-down apple french toast, a dish which he liberally showered with chocolate chips and pecans for good measure.

"I had no idea you were such a good chef," Saber claimed, hardly stopping for more than a second.

Lancer nodded in agreement, deciding not to waste so much as a moment eating. Shirou moved some food onto his own plate and began, keeping a watchful eye on the knights. The two servants finished simultaneously and they both reached for a single utensil to pile on more.

Realizing they both had the same idea, Lancer gave a warm smile to his king and gestured for her to take first. "Gi- Royalty first," he saved, closing his eyes tight to try and hide his blunder.

Evidently, Saber was more interested in the food, as she delivered a considerable helping to her plate with a self-satisfied grin. These were two of the strongest knights in all of history; it was comedic to see them act so human and familiar.

A soft noise of strain brought his attention to the door, where a half-asleep Illya had stumbled in still dressed in her neon-pink pyjamas. She clumsily tried to sit where Lancer was, realizing halfway through the motion that someone was there. Apologizing with a mumble, the girl settled into a free spot and focused on rubbing her eyes clear.

Standing, Shirou rubbed the top of her head and asked how she had slept while moving to retrieve her breakfast. "Not good at all. I slept long enough, but I had this really weird dream and when I woke up, I still felt tired."

Gently placing the plate in front of her, Shirou resettled himself onto a zabuton. "Perhaps you are still acclimating to my mana draw, Master," Lancelot pointed out.

Illya shook her head. "I don't really notice you taking my mana." The girl paused to yawn, taking up a fork before picking at the sweet, fragrant dish ahead. "I think the only time I did notice, was when you were fighting Saber. Even then, it was only just a fragment."

Saber had even stopped filling her mouth now, swallowing before asking, "You can't really mean that, Illyasviel. Powering a servant takes a considerable amount of mana."

Shirou scratched the side of his face. "I guess I should have told you that Illya is kind of," he struggled to find the correct wording, "broken. She has so much mana, I think she could qualify as a Caster."

With one bite of toast being chewed, the homunculus agreed while simultaneously gloating. "I could probably support you both at your fullest and have mana for a third servant."

Lancer made a short hum. "Not that I wish to call you a liar, master, but could you demonstrate this mana supply somehow?"

While still chewing, the girl offered their servant a terse look. Without another word, she scrunched up her face and tensed her body. On command, jagged crimson lines scrawled across most of her visible skin. As she did this, Lancer visibly jumped in his seat, making a choked noise all while his eyes snapped open.

Just as quickly as the markings appeared, they faded away to bring back her pale skin. "That was all I could make on such short demand. It's also morning and I'm tired - so give me a break," the girl murmured before getting lost in the sugary dish Shirou had made.

"Well then, using my noble phantasm shouldn't be much of a problem then," Lancer claimed, slowly returning to his breakfast.

Expectantly, Saber turned to Shirou. "You must be capable of producing a similar amount of mana, correct?" There was a competitive edge in her eyes, the flame of a lion that wanted to prove they were the head of the pack.

Two snorts sounded at the same instance. They were both from Emiya males. Kiritsugu had stepped into the dining room as Saber posed her question, but he made a brief stop near the kitchen where a coffee maker beckoned his name. Pausing only to express a greeting to his father, Shirou answered Saber's question. "Illya is pretty unique. Of all the magi I know, she has the most in raw reservoir capacity." Methodically, he reached for another rolled omelette to add to his plate. "As for me, I'm pretty weak in terms of mana."

Saber made a short hum, watching his plate with empty eyes for a moment. "You don't appear any less capable than your father."

A questioning noise sounded as the father in question settled with a cup in hand at the table. "Is that so?"

"It's been some time, but I would estimate that your son might even be stronger than you in terms of mana potential, Kiritsugu. Though I'm merely speculating, as I've never experienced a full mana supply from either of you." Saber continued eating after her statement, allowing the two to look at one another questioningly. A considerable time ago, he had been nothing in comparison to his father - magic circuit wise at least. Had he really developed that much in so short a time? Perhaps it was the Emiya family crest that had provided such a boost.

"Shirou, are you still planning on going to school tomorrow?" Illya asked, shifting the conversation entirely.

"Why wouldn't I? I need to collect some homework before I can stay home at least," he claimed with furrowed brows.

"Well-"

Saber was the first to state her obvious distaste for the plan. "Mast- Shirou, entering such a public place undefended with your current position is asking for trouble. What if an enemy master attempts to strike at such a vulnerable moment?"

Considering the danger for some time, Shirou could only shrug. "Other masters aren't supposed to fight one another at such times, but rules don't really stop the more determined," he agreed.

Lancer cleared his throat. "Seeing as how our masters are working together, I could provide protection for Shirou by remaining close in spirit form. Should danger arise, I would be there to assist and you would be notified immediately, my liege."

Shirou considered the proposition, remembering Rin and Sakura abruptly. The former might have already summoned her servant and how would she explain Saber and Lancer to Sakura? "What if we encounter another master who has a servant at school? Can servants detect other servants even in spirit form?"

Kiritsugu made a noise. "They can for the most part unless the servant is Assassin."

"If your concern is absolute anonymity, I believe I have the perfect set of skills to provide just that," Lancelot touted, nodding with a soft, smug smile. "All I need is a set of women's clothing."

… … …

… … …

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Shirou murmured, shaking his head in his hands.

"I assure you, not even the most perceptive servant could see through this disguise," Lancer appeased in a voice that was not his own. Walking toward Homurahara, Shirou was accompanied by another individual. It wasn't the tall male knight Illya had summoned, but a young woman dressed admittedly well in casual clothing. After racking their collective minds all day yesterday, they had decided on a believable design and cover story that Lancer could use.

Daughter of the regional kyudo league president, Taasa Miyoshi, or Miyo as she preferred, had come to examine Shirou in person. The rumours of his skill had reached beyond Fuyuki, but his display at the previous year's tournament didn't match up to the stories.

This would, unfortunately, put Shirou back into the kyudo dojo, but it was the only believable cover that they could find. No member of the Emiya household had any descendants they could imitate in a believable fashion, be it from amnesia, anonymity or plain lack thereof.

The girl had typical short black hair which fell around their face in a natural bob cut. It worked well to frame her soft features but there was still a rigid seriousness in her eyes that unnerved Shirou. Apparently Lancer had done such a thing on purpose, claiming that it would dissuade many of the less resolved from speaking with her.

Shirou could practically hear Sakura's questions ringing in his ear already and he wasn't even at school yet. "Who is she? What is she doing walking with you? Is she staying at your house?" among others.

When he arrived at the school gates and met Sakura, she did ask all of those questions as he predicted, but in a different order. Explaining the situation, the overly-attached girl calmed down significantly. Throughout the start of their encounter, Shirou noticed that she was making a close examination of his right hand while trying to appear subtle about it. While noting it down in his mind, he quickly thanked whatever power decided to place his command seals on his left hand. If he was different than everyone else, it would be easier to hide his affliction.

After Shirou's explanation, Lancer quickly went to work filling in the holes to solidify their story. "I'm only in Fuyuki for today so that I can witness Shirou in action at the school's dojo. As I have nothing else to do, I thought it wise to familiarize myself with the grounds in the off chance I need to return here again."

Sakura glared at the new girl, biting one corner of her lip in a half-pout. "Fine, but Shirou is mine, so you better not get any funny ideas."

Feeling his cheeks grow red, Shirou could only imagine how Lancer was responding to such a comment. Almost on cue, the voice of Saber echoed throughout his head. " _Illya spontaneously burst out laughing, should I be concerned for her sanity?"_ He decided to leave the servant guessing, holding his silence.

Instead of laughter, the girl beside him donned a very serious expression. "I assure you, that is the farthest possible outcome here. Your relationship will go undisturbed."

Still biting her lip, Sakura assured herself with a curt nod, looking toward Shirou expectantly. "So does this mean you'll be rejoining archery club?"

He shook his head partly. "No, this will just be a one time only visit. I still think it's too boring."

"W-well, if you stay a little longer after school you can see how much better I've gotten since you last watched me." Hope was gleaming in her violet eyes and there wasn't a possible chance that he could say no to someone begging him so sweetly. The last time he had watched Sakura practice kyudo was when she was in junior high - last year in fact.

Lancer visibly shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "If you two wouldn't mind, I would enjoy this conversation much more if we weren't standing in the middle of the cold yard."

Realizing his rudeness, Shirou sent an apologetic glance to the visitor. "Sure thing, let's go in-" Immediately, alarm bells rang off in his mind, guiding his head to look toward the school on pure instinct alone. Naturally being guided, he locked eyes with a very particular black-haired woman who was watching him with suspicious intent. Realizing she was discovered far too late, she twitched in place and hastily made a retreat out of sight.

"Shirou?" came a questioning remark, accompanied by a warmth on his shoulder. Turning his head to the voice, he met a concerned Sakura who after looking into his eyes, tried to find what he had spotted. "Did you see something?"

He hesitated while considering what he had witnessed and what he wanted to tell Sakura. He wouldn't be able to pull off a lie with her, but half-truths were still fair game. "Just another student. I felt like I was being watched and I was."

… … …

… … …

"Was that his servant?" Rin asked with a whisper, continuing out of the room. The boy she had been watching was her friend, her boyfriend in fact. Soon, he would end up being one of her rivals, why did life have to be so unfair? She could only hope that her plan would work.

A smooth baritone voice resonated within her skull. If this was how Shirou would sound as he got older, she wouldn't be complaining - that was for certain. " _It seems that this world's Shirou has already made quite the advancement in his projection magecraft. Hair and skin pigmentation alteration didn't start for nearly a decade after this point in my life."_

"Focus!" Rin hissed through her teeth, gathering her servant's attention. "Was that woman a servant?"

The Tohsaka could have sworn that there was a distant sigh in her mind. " _As a servant, I can easily pick out other servants from a crowd but I can certify without a doubt that the woman who was standing beside him was not a servant unless they were Assassin."_

"I thought you said he would summon Saber, King Arthur. This girl didn't really fit your description," Rin levelled, lacking any humour in her voice.

" _He was supposed to, however, this Grail War is entirely different from what I am used to, as you already know. As much knowledge as I have, I can only make assumptions based on the known events of different times. The smallest act decades ago could have altered so much."_ He paused, giving the girl some time to travel down a staircase. " _Are you familiar with the Butterfly Effect?"_

"Of course, of course, isn't everyone?" she murmured, rounding a bannister. To anyone watching, she likely appeared insane. Speaking to herself in anger while flying down the stairs to get to class wasn't something normal people did at least.

" _Then you shouldn't be surprised that I can't anticipate every next move."_

Growling to herself, the girl reflected on last night, when she managed to summon her own boyfriend as her _servant_. He had been reluctant to speak at first and even more against answering questions. After hinting at events she thought would pique his interest, he began to open up. For some reason, he had an extreme fixation on himself - talk about narcissistic.

She needed to get to class, but letting her mind reflect on their conversation wouldn't hurt, just to see if she had missed something.

… … … …

… … … …

"I've been here before. Not _here_ specifically, but here during another time - several times in fact. I was only a master one time and a servant all the others," the man claimed, fixated on Aoi as she stepped into the demolished living room. Archer had destroyed nearly every piece of furniture upon entry, but Rin had performed some quick magecraft to repair the furniture enough so that they could all sit and talk. Even though he had only uttered a few meagre sentences, she had gained some important information. Verification that Shirou was a master, for one. "In every other time I've been summoned, the most consistent detail is that you are dead."

The woman offered the servant a strange look, settling herself into a chair with refined grace. "I find it hard to believe that I am supposed to be deceased when I am very much living," the woman defended, collecting her own cup of tea to take a sip of the piping hot liquid. Unlike Rin herself, she was remarkably calm, but maybe that had something to do with age, wisdom begets courage and all that.

Archer appeared unfazed. "Yes, having someone you know explain to you that you died in another life must be so surreal. Almost as surreal as dying only to wake up mere seconds later during an entirely different time in an entirely different place."

Aoi was silenced by Archer's sarcasm but her daughter was far more annoyed. Furrowing her brows, Rin shot back. "Well, you're definitely a lot more jaded and sarcastic than the Shirou I know."

"That would be because we are two entirely different entities. The Shirou you know and the man I am share no similarities at all," he claimed, voice edged with a strong venom.

Rin hummed thoughtfully, taking a minute to think about how she could test such a claim. Eventually, she gathered a handful of questions that could work. "Well let's test that theory, shall we? What do you think about your father, Kiritsugu Emiya?"

Archer's face soured immediately. "A vile man, a disgusting existence that forced an unattainable dream onto his next of kin."

Blinking at the violent reaction but expressing nothing else, Rin noted that part down on a fictional list within her mind labelled " _Not Shirou_ ". "And Illyasviel? What do you think about her?"

Archer's expression softened dramatically before it shifted to confusion. "You know of her? You two weren't supposed to meet until the war had already begun." Rin merely levelled the servant a stern glower, an act which was enough to get him back on track. At least that was the same. "Even though I never learned she was my sister until it was too late, her end is one of my greatest regrets."

That was one point to the " _Is Shirou_ " list, even with that strange part about not knowing her. "Looking back at yourself when you went through the war, how skilled of a magus were you?"

Archer snorted, leaning back in the chair after collecting his cup of tea. Obviously the scent was too alluring for him to resist. "I had as much claim to the title of magus as the nearest light fixture. Even a potted house plant would be capable of more than I would. You consistently called me a third-rate magus and that nickname happened to stick as long as we were together."

Rin immediately became distracted, cheeks warming at the prospect. "You and I were dating in your lifetime too?"

Archer shut one eye, smirking smugly. "To be honest, I still don't really know how I managed it, as clueless as I was." The smugness faded and bitterness took its place. "Even then, calling us a couple would be excessive. It was more like we were two rival business owners who agreed to work together to finish a project. It wasn't abusive, but far from traditional. Once we split apart- well," he paused, gesturing to himself.

So it wasn't like the relationship they had now, but something much more restricted and terse. To Rin, it sounded as if neither one could open up or rely on the other completely. It was an unhealthy relationship bound to fail. Would that be the ultimate fate for their current relationship? Maybe it would be better to stay away from the boy and let Sakura have him.

"You became a servant," Rin stated for clarification's sake, narrowing her eyes questioningly. "I was holding you back from becoming a hero?"

Archer took a drink of tea, staring into it before admitting with a conflicted expression, "I'm not a hero. However, before I can explain what that means, I have to ask for information on the Shirou you know. Should you choose not to answer my questions, I won't answer any more of yours," he threatened.

Rin sighed. "Well, I can't see there being any harm in telling you. Since you're both...you. Even if you hate yourself, you'll just end up in a stalemate should you choose to fight." She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she caught Archer's eye twitch. So her little insult had gotten to him, good.

For some time after, she went into vague detail recounting Shirou's life. Starting with Kiritsugu approaching her and asking for her help, Illya appearing and living with them both, his assistance with her studies and development of his magecraft, training with Bazett. She even noted the rescue of Missy and his encounter with the werewolves and freelancers before he visited the Clock Tower. From there, she detailed his involvement with the various faces across the pond. Archer was wide-eyed as she recounted his stories of Luvia, Lectra, Flat, Gray and Reines. She wasn't watching a clock, but her mouth was certainly dry after speaking so many words and it certainly felt as if it had been some time.

"So we are even more different than usual, the expected outcome is therefore impossible," the servant summarized. He set the now empty cup of tea down onto its paired plate and stared her dead in the eyes with a look nearly as cold and vacant as the Magus Killer's. "Do you know what his goal in life might be?"

Rin repeated the question aloud to solidify it in her mind, even taking some time to consider it in depth. The only person who knew more about Shirou than she did was Illya and even then it was close. The boy told her everything - at least she assumed as such. There were a lot of things Shirou wanted to do. He wanted to save people and let everybody live a good life free of pain - but that wasn't his first priority. She thought back to the serial killer he had murdered for Illya, the werewolves and enforcer he had killed while on the brink of death to save Sakura, Kiera Eliphas and even _Shinji_.

"I think he just wants to watch over his family, you know - Kiritsugu and Illya. He's always concerned with them and every decision of his leads back there. Though, to be honest I've never asked."

Archer's serious demeanour faded. He seemed to relax and his expression turned to utter bewilderment. "Kiritsugu is still alive and Shirou doesn't want to be a hero?"

Rin scowled. "Of course he is alive, didn't you hear me talk about him when I was telling you about Shirou? Anyway, Shirou hates being called a hero. He said something about how calling him a hero defaces the word or something equally as melodramatic." The girl shrugged, her memory of his exact words rather hazy.

Archer made a long, thoughtful hum. "I see. As you've been around him for a considerable amount of time, would you consider him or some of his actions to be suicidal?"

Rin shook her head viciously, throwing her twin tails in every direction. "Of course not, but there are times I suppose." Making a thoughtful noise, Rin thought back harder. "Normally no, but if Sakura or Illya is in danger, he wouldn't stop trying to kill whoever it was even if you chopped his arms and legs off."

"I see, so he's not as ignorant as the Shirou I'm used to," the man murmured, panning his eyes back to his master before standing. "I agree to act as your servant in this war, Rin Tohsaka. Our contract is complete."

Being honest, Rin thought there would be a whoosh of air or some sort of indication that some sort of solemn promise had been made - but nothing happened at all. Rin stared at her servant with apathy as he bowed in greeting. "I've answered all your questions to the best of my ability, now you must answer mine in kind," Rin declared, treating the man she knew as an absolute stranger. "You said you aren't a hero, that you're different somehow."

"Correct, I am a counter guardian," he stated nonchalantly.

Rin blanched, suddenly feeling as if she had been punched in the stomach. She examined her servant's face for any signs of a lie. "You can't be serious, you gave your life away to act as a _counter guardian?_ " Rin claimed in disbelief.

"It is one of my deepest regrets, yes. Since you never really knew who _I_ was before, the irony and weight of such a statement is lost. Then again, had you been from the same world as myself, you wouldn't be speaking to me in such a manner anyway," he huffed, settling back into the couch with a haughty expression.

"What would drive you to such a decision?" the girl asked, entirely invested in her servant's past. If her Shirou would make the same mistakes, she would have to stick beside him to keep reminding him about how much of an idiot he was and drive him away from Alaya.

The servant shuffled in his seat. "Whether you believe it or not, the downward spiral which would ultimately lead to my contract to Alaya begins when you and I go our separate ways."

Aoi interrupted with a warm smile. "How sweet, Rin is the last thing that kept you sane." It was a safe bet that she knew nothing about what they were talking about, but she decided to selectively focus on the parts she did.

The two other people present were visibly embarrassed. "Wording it like that is rather strange," Archer claimed, shaking his head softly.

"We're on the same wavelength there at least," Rin agreed, trying not to cringe inwardly. After a brief pause to repress the earlier comment, Rin returned to their serious conversation. "You mentioned something earlier about not speaking to me in such a manner, what did you mean by that? You wouldn't tell me all of this?"

"Once again, not exactly. Normally, two things take place in the worlds I am summoned in. In all of these worlds, you do not recognize who I am and that is mandatory for these two things to take place. The first is an incomplete summoning. I believe you conduct the ritual at an inopportune time and as summoning a counter guardian requires a much more stable ritual, my memories are in disarray upon materialization." The man closed his eyes and crossed both arms over his chest, sinking into the cushioned chair behind him.

"So you don't remember me or yourself?"

"Yes and no again. When you summon me improperly, I have no recollection of you, myself or Shirou Emiya. After interacting with you and allowing time to pass, my memories rapidly return which allows me to focus on discovering whether the second and ultimately most important matter is as I know it to be."

Waiting on bated breath, the Tohsaka grew annoyed when he refused to continue. "Go on?"

"The Shirou Emiya of that world must have a dream, a dream to become a _Hero of Justice,_ all to satisfy the wish of a dying man."

Immediately, Rin threw up her hands and waved them in front of her face. "Hold on," she repeated several times to stop him, "I thought you weren't a hero, so where does the _Hero of Justice_ thing come from?"

Archer rolled his eyes, much to Rin's annoyance. Rin really hoped that the Shirou she knew wouldn't become whatever _this_ guy was. "It would be too much effort to explain to you in a sense you could understand. My suggestion would be to ask your Shirou Emiya directly, he'll likely explain to you his position and allow me to make my own judgement as well."

Rin scrutinized Archer's words, trying to find the meaning behind them. He was very determined on discovering what Shirou Emiya would aspire to be - did he have plans to…? "And what type of judgement would you make based on that information?"

Archer scrunched up his face in thought. It was something Shirou himself did, so it actually hurt Rin more to witness the similarity and be reminded that he had the possibility to wind up in this situation. He was putting deep thought into his words, a good sign that he was concocting a riddle-like half-truth. "Whether or not I would be able to end the cycle."

Rin stumbled mentally over the vague wording. Was he referring to the cycle of the Grail War or some other cycle she wasn't aware of? Either way, she logged the comment down in her mind and made a note to show how different the Shirou she knew truly was from the little she knew of Archer's Shirou; or the Shirou that would become Archer. "If you've been through this War before, then you must know everything about it, right?"

Archer nodded once deeply. "Correct, but if you're looking to abuse that knowledge to certify your victory, there may be problems. The most pressing issue is the fact that things are entirely new to me as well and the second is that victory isn't what you might expect. You will need to make that discovery on your own as you're unlikely to believe my word."

Rin stared at her servant for some time before she leaned her head over the back of the couch and released a deep sigh. "Either way, we've basically lost this war before it's even begun."

Immediately, two questioning voices reached her ears, demanding an explanation. Closing her eyes, Rin explained what she believed to be the case to her mother and servant. "If Archer is Shirou, then the two can pretty much match up against one another in a stalemate. It's like throwing rock against rock in Rock-Paper-Scissors. That would be fine and all, but Shirou has his own servant so you say. That means we'll effectively be facing _two_ servants while we only have _one_."

Archer was silent, and that was all the confirmation she needed. "Come to think of it, you might be right. But your awareness of the situation is still limited. If Illya is living with this Shirou, they are undoubtedly working together. Which means-"

"-We have to face two servants _along with_ Shirou and Illya. So essentially three servants and a ridiculously overcharged mana battery," Rin finished, producing another laboured sigh. "You might as well tell me all the details of the War or Wars you've been through and we'll see what we can plan out."

… … … …

… … … …

" _We can't rule out this world's Shirou summoning Assassin,"_ Archer reminded.

Rin's memory caught up with her at that moment. As she was around normal people, she turned to communicate with Archer through the voice in her mind. " _Wait, yes we can. Assassin hasn't been summoned yet. Saber, Lancer, Caster, Berserker and now Archer are the only active servants."_

" _I see, you still keep in touch with Kirei?"_

" _Kirei?"_ She questioned, unconsciously scrunching her face questioningly even though she was speaking within her own head. She knew of a Kirei Kotomine, but merely in passing and that was ten years ago.

Archer was silent for so long, Rin had thought he might have spontaneously died somehow. " _This world is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Without Kirei Kotomine, so much changes, Lancer will- there won't be an eighth servant."_

" _You didn't go over any of this in the rundown yesterday. You just told me the servants and what happens to me,"_ Rin grumbled, growing quite agitated with her servant and his secrets.

" _I had not expected this much variance, I had thought those details to be superfluous. As much knowledge as I have about my own Fifth War, I doubt any of it will be of use to you in this war."_

Rin allowed her head to connect with the desk surface ahead of her face. " _So you're even more useless than I thought, how is that even possible?"_

" _Hmph. It's been a considerable amount of time since you've ever insulted me like that, it's both familiar and demoralizing. Regardless, I believe you should hold your tongue until the war begins. I may not have information, but I can rightfully hold my own in ways you would not expect."_ Toward the end of his rant, the servant almost sounded prideful.

" _Is your noble phantasm a working reality marble?"_ Rin asked, wondering if all Shirou's would get to that level of mastery at one point or another. Would the reality marbles be different with each of their different experiences? Could Archer teach Shirou how to enact his own reality marble?

Archer went absolutely silent and Rin wondered if he had spontaneously died once again. When she was about to ask where he went, he responded with, " _I don't like this. I'm not used to being the one left in the dark."_

… … …

… … …

A shout of his name sent the boy turning around. Having just finished school, he was on his way to the kyudo dojo to premier his skills to "Miyo". He caught sight of Lectra sprinting toward him from across the grounds, waving an arm to garner his attention. Getting close enough to speak at a normal volume she claimed, "I'm so glad I caught you before you went home." She paused to bend over, catching her breath from the sprint.

"Well actually Lectra, I'll be heading over to the archery club to demonstrate myself for the league president's daughter," he explained.

"Ah, well-" she paused, standing up and raising an arm above her head. "I just wanted to tell you that I got a B on my Japanese test, all thanks to your help." The girl cut a bright close-eyed smile that easily slid its way onto his own face.

"That's great to hear, Lectra!" he admired, genuinely impressed with her results. "Still having difficulty speaking though?" he asked, noticing that she was still communicating in English.

The girl nodded. "Still having trouble there but thankfully all the tests are written so it's not too big a problem. At least I can understand and write it now!" she exclaimed, holding her smirk. "Hey, you wouldn't mind if I came with you and watched? I've never seen kyudo but I've heard stories of you when you used to be in the club."

Shirou laughed and turned away shyly. "Seems like word really gets around. I don't know why; I wasn't really that good."

Lectra continued smiling. "The same rumours also said you'd be extremely humble about your skill. I was also talking to Mitsuzuri the other day and she says the only time you missed was during a tournament and that you did it on purpose."

Shirou knew that to be the truth and would admit it if asked directly, but he disliked contributing to rumours so instead, he rather awkwardly claimed, "Well you know how credible rumours can be."

Lectra's smile grew wider. "Exactly, so that's why I want to see it for myself."

… … …

There was a loud thunk as the arrow collided dead center of the bullseye. Releasing a calm breath, Shirou methodically lowered the yumi in his grasp only to adorn a frown. There just wasn't any challenge in firing a bow at this range, the lack of difficulty was still as boring as ever.

Taking a step back from the firing line, several voices made pleasantly surprised noises. Turning his head around, he spotted several new faces around the few he recognized. As Lectra spoke in English, her voice was easier to detect amidst the crowd. He couldn't quite decipher it all, but he assumed it to be a claim that the rumours about him were true.

As he moved further away from the firing line, he was practically crowded with Mitsuzuri getting to speak first. "So why couldn't you just do _that_ and _then_ quit last year?" she asked, shaking her head with a smirk. The girl lightly punched his shoulder, "Ah well, at least now the kyudo league won't keep thinking I'm a liar."

Sakura quickly piled on him as well, leering a bit too close for him to be perfectly comfortable."You were made to use the bow, Senpai, you should rejoin the club - we need a captain anyway!"

"Hold on there, Matou. You can't force him to do something he doesn't want to," Mitsuzuri claimed, smiling as she pulled her younger girl away from Shirou's personal space.

Lectra still held a bright smile, complimenting his shot. "You're a real crack shot, guess I can see why you would have left. If that's how every shot you've fired ended up, there's no reason to keep practicing."

Shirou reached up with his free hand to scratch at his neck. "I've just naturally been good with a bow, I guess."

"And kendo too," the girl nodded, starting a worrying pit in the bottom of his stomach. "Miss Fujimura told me all about how you could take on the entire kendo club with one hand - blindfolded." Something about her tone was worrying to Shirou. He knew that she, along with Luvia, were building a profile of him, he just hadn't expected them to go so in-depth, or for Taiga to spill every detail she had on him.

"That might have been because I was told to train the younger disciples. Since I had Taiga as a mentor when I was younger, that's how they wanted to make things fair. I never went to tournaments outside of Homurahara, so I couldn't really be _that_ good." All that he said was true though he had been offered the chance to follow Taiga's dream of kendo mastery several times. He declined each opportunity to protect himself from situations like this one exactly.

"Oh, so it was all just some exaggeration? That's interesting. I guess if you're Miss Fujimura's favourite student, she's likely to hyperbolize some things, huh?" Lectra continued smiling, though something about it appeared _off_ to Shirou. It wasn't her usually bubbly expression, but something different. Just as he was about to ask her why she was so interested in him all of a sudden, she bounced on her feet and cocked her head. "Ah well, I should really get going - I didn't tell Luvia I would be staying late so she's probably worried about me. Thanks for letting me watch you, it was cool to see!"

With a wave of her hand, the girl quickly departed with a visible sense of urgency. "Senpai, what was she talking about?" Sakura asked, stepping into view. Distracted, he took an extra moment to switch his mind to Japanese and responded.

"Just some questions about my school activities," he passed off, making things seem less serious than they were. "Luvia is expecting her, so she had to take off pretty quickly."

Sakura's features softened, likely thankful that nothing was wrong. "It's a shame she can't stay - but you will, right? You can watch me practice."

Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou caught Mitsuzuri raising an eyebrow with a smug smirk. She knew as well as he did - he was caught. Sakura's glimmering puppy dog eyes and pout broke what little resolve he had. "Alright, I'll stay and watch you practice." Looking down at his own ceremonial attire, he spread his arms. "While you set up, I'll have some time to change back to normal and speak with the league president's daughter."

Lifting his head, he spotted Miyo - Lancer - casually watching him from a distance within the crowd. Behind the golden glow of Avalon, Shirou found the connection he shared with Saber, opening the channel so his mind could speak with her as his father had guided. " _Hey, Saber?_ " Cordially, the servant responded, asking what he required. " _I'm going to be staying with Sakura for a bit. Since it wouldn't make sense for Miyo to stick around, he can head home whenever he likes, just make sure he isn't seen."_

Saber agreed to do as requested and after a short time, Miyo softly nodded in his direction. While Shirou moved to the dressing room to change back into his normal clothes, he caught sight of Miyo as she - that is, Lancer - left. It was nice to have some protection, but he didn't want to waste his time. Besides, he wouldn't need protection anyway - he was just keeping Saber satisfied.

… … …

"So what did you find out?"

Lectra pushed a breath of air from her nose. "Well, I'm eighty-five percent sure that the Magus Killer's son was right under your nose eating lunch with us last year."

Luvia made a spiteful sound with her mouth. "You're that sure, huh?"

"Everything checks out. We haven't seen him fight in person, but he was in kendo which would lead to his blade mastery and he was apparently unbeatable. His skill as a marksman is also unrivalled and Blade was flawless with a bow and arrow." Lectra raised her hands, shaking her head in frustration. "The only time the guy has _ever_ missed was when he did it on purpose. He said he did it because he was bored, but there's more to it than that. There's just _so_ _much_ going on with him."

Luvia pushed off the concrete wall, taking a few steps forward so she could lay a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You seem pretty steamed over this, are you alright?"

Lectra turned her head toward the blonde, anger in her eyes. It was the first time Luvia had ever actually seen such an emotion. "Of course not," she blatantly claimed, walking forward out of her reach. "Why would Blade do it? Play with our emotions and make it seem like he was our friend? Did he plan everything from the start? Why would he fake his own death?" The older girl ran both hands through her hair, squeezing the sides of her skull before throwing the hood of her favourite jumper over her head. "I just don't get it, I thought-" she murmured, voice fading away.

Luvia took a deep breath before letting it slide out her nose during her approach towards the woman. She was a mercenary, born and bred to be an efficient killing machine. Luvia was cold and merciless personally, but that didn't stop her from feeling empathy. Casually, the blonde wrapped an arm around the smaller girl and rubbed at her back. "As much as I hate trying to defend someone like that, it might have been done for our benefit."

Hiding her face, Lectra struggled to get out a question without her voice cracking. "What do you mean?"

"Think of it like those superhero movies you like so much. If the villain can't attack the hero directly..." she led on, allowing the girl to fill in the blanks on her own.

The girl raised one sleeve to wipe at her face. "Then they attack the hero's loved ones."

Luvia patted the girl's back comfortingly. "Exactly, so maybe he fabricated a life and faked his death to protect us, or people back here."

"Like Rin and Sakura - and Missy?"

"And his family, yeah," Luvia nodded, trying to keep her partner from breaking down further. "Or maybe he's just trying to cover up for the Magus Killer, maybe he's their disciple."

The two girls stood in silence in the open schoolyard, listening to the slight breeze and running over their thoughts. "Luvia, do you think Rin or Shirou have caught onto us?"

"I don't know about him, but I had you pegged from the start," a new voice claimed from behind, inciting both girls to snap around on instinct. The voice had spoken in English, but it was regretfully familiar.

With fists planted firmly on her hips, the sight of a particularly irate school idol stood before them. Her face was plastered with a deepened scowl that outlined her intentions perfectly. "Lectra, get behind me," Luvia directed, and the girl rapidly obliged. Preparing herself for an attack, Luvia narrowed her eyes and observed the Tohsaka closely. "So, the Fake Idol knows how to speak English."

Rin laughed, though it lacked any humour. "It pays to keep secrets, though it's not all that difficult with someone as clueless as you, Cow."

Snarling, Luvia considered her options. This area was too public to have an all-out battle, and the noise would bring out everyone from the kyudo dojo - Shirou included. If he caught wind of this, they were as good as dead. Luvia just had to keep Rin talking while she figured out a plan. "I forgot to ask, how was your recovery after our last altercation?"

The Tohsaka's fists seemed to tighten further. "You're just lucky that Lectra came around when she did otherwise you'd be back in Britain eating from a tube."

Luvia had done a significant amount of detective work following her visit to Shirou's home. Curious as to what he was hiding, she carefully positioned cameras to survey the Emiya household from an unnoticed distance. While they wouldn't be able to see inside, nobody would stay inside a house forever and the occupants would leave eventually. Watching for weeks, Luvia came to the conclusion that Caren was _not_ Shirou's sister, as the girl only came around on Wednesdays for a few mere hours before travelling across Fuyuki to where she actually lived, the Church of all places.

It was too strange for the Edelfelt to explain, but it was far from the strangest sight she'd witnessed. The recovered video feed caught sight of something pure white within the backyard and occasionally in the entranceway when Shirou returned home. An in-depth analysis allowed her to decide that it was a girl, likely Shirou's true sister - with bright crimson eyes. Luvia eventually gained two more clear sightings before landing on the same conclusion she'd started with.

Shirou's sister was a homunculus, an artificial being created in a tube for a specific purpose. It was remarkably underdeveloped, an oddity in the world of homunculi. Typically, they were "born" from the tube as a fully functioning adult but this one was still a child. With details of the girl in mind, Lectra asked students around Homurahara about the girl, describing her specifically when they claimed to be ignorant. The act seemed to revive their memory and they were even able to gather a name amongst other useless qualities: Illya.

The memory problem was a classic sign of mass hypnosis; removing a single person from a group's memory. It was efficient and rather strong so long as the affected weren't reminded with specific details. It would have taken a considerable amount of mana, time and effort and it would have undoubtedly alerted the Second Owner. None of those things are a problem when the spellcaster is a homunculus and the Second Owner is already aware.

Following that discovery, Luvia concluded that the wound of deceit was deeper than she could have expected. Rin, a proud magus from the equally supercilious Tohsaka family, was working alongside the Emiya family in secret. Luvia had initially thought the relationship between her and Shirou to be some sort of cover but now she could see there was a mutual benefit to their relationship.

So as anyone would, Luvia established more watchful eyes around the Tohsaka manor - but the Tohsaka herself was evidently much more perceptive of her property. Under the guise of a "meeting to make amends", Rin had led Luvia to Fuyuki park, where the Second Owner rightfully accused her of spying. Communication devolved and the two violently reacted. Having made the mistake of turning her back to the plotting woman, Luvia wasted much of her on-hand supplies just staying alive. As claimed, it was only because of Lectra being close enough to react and assist that drove the Tohsaka off.

"Working together is merely a testament to my leadership and teamwork abilities, two things you seem to be lacking in. While commenting on your defects, you must understand that it's rather impolite and inconsiderate to eavesdrop on a private conversation."

Rin smirked before standing tall like the righteous, pretentious little girl she was. "With a mouth so big and a voice so shrill I'm surprised that _private_ conversation didn't shatter the school's windows."

"I've never seen Shirou blush at the sound of _your_ voice so I believe you're mixing up our two voices," the Edelfelt shot back, watching the Tohsaka visibly twitch. Luvia was always able to get under the girl's skin with comments regarding Shirou, she was rather transfixed with the boy - perhaps their relationship really did go deeper than the skin, unlike most magi.

"Can we get over this already?" Lectra asked, peeking out from behind Luvia. "What do you want, Tohsaka?"

"For you both to go back to Britain, but I have a feeling neither of you will do that willingly."

"Very astute observation," Luvia levelled dryly. "You already know why we're here and that we won't leave until the job is done. Nothing you can say or do will stop us."

Rin finally moved, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. "There is plenty I can do to stop you, but consider this my _final_ warning."

There was a new level of confidence in her voice that Luvia picked up immediately. The problem was that she couldn't tell whether it was genuine or artificial. "We were able to hold you off last time, what makes you think you'll fare any better now that we're prepared?"

Rin flashed a deadly grin. So her confidence was genuine then, what did she have planned? "You have two days to leave Japan. After that, I'm not going to hold anything back."

Luvia pursed her lips, scouring the girl's body for something new. There weren't any visible signatures of increased mana, she wasn't carrying any gems more powerful than normal - where was the validity of this threat? What was she missing? "Two days?"

Rin nodded, repeating those exact two words for ultimate clarity.

"Then we'll merely have to advance our plans." Standing upright, Luvia turned part ways over her own shoulder. "Lectra, let's get out of here."

The two left the schoolyard at a jog without much more of a dispute, taking their chances while they still could. The schoolyard was more to Rin's advantage, considering she knew the area and could have planted traps in preparation of such an encounter. When the two were out of earshot, Lectra asked the first question that came to mind. "Do you really want to try taking down the Magus Killer in two days?"

Luvia declined, slowing her pace back to a walk. "Of course not, I'm not suicidal. We need to strike when he's unprepared and alone."

"Then what's your plan?"

Luvia narrowed her eyes, forming several hasty plans in her mind and throwing them away just as quickly. "I think the first thing we need to do is gather more information from my family's library. Maybe then we can find out what's _really_ going on around here."

… … …

… … …

"I'm home!" Shirou called through the house, barely managing to take off his shoes before being assaulted by a white missile. Exclaiming his surprise while reeling from the impact, he planted a hand on the soft head of his sister. "What's all this for?"

"I'm just glad you're safe," she claimed, squeezing him abnormally tight. "Saber kept saying how it's dangerous out there now and you didn't have Lancer to protect you so-"

His laughter broke her heartfelt sentiment to pieces. "Illya I'm fine. I can handle myself you know." Illya didn't usually act as protective and childish as she was now, but like anyone else she had her days and today evidently happened to be one of them.

"Yeah but-"

He knelt down to her level, offering a genuine smile. "I'll be fine, trust me okay?"

With lips parted in uncertainty, her glassy eyes flickered between his own. "Do you promise?"

The boy maintained his smile, patted the top of her head and offered a short nod. "If it will make you happy then I promise not to get myself hurt." Standing, he looked further down the hall. He caught Saber's eyes, who was looking at the two with the barest hint of a smile. "I'm sorry I was so late, did Missy make dinner?"

The servant nodded. "She assumed you would be too late to handle the responsibility yourself once she learned you were staying alongside Sakura."

"I'll have to apologize. I hadn't expected to be out so late and It wasn't her turn to cook." Stepping past Illya into the house, he was politely halted by his servant with a gesture.

"Your father has made some suggestions for the next two days that I wished to run through with you in private," she claimed, casually sliding the albino girl an assuming look.

Making a noise of frustration that worked its way onto her features, the girl haughtily stomped past them both toward the kitchen. While leaving, she murmured "can't even say hello to my own brother" among various other petty comments.

With the two of them alone, Saber motioned for him to follow. She led him out across the backyard into the stone shed, the most private location on the property. While Saber closed the heavy door, Shirou worked to light the stubby candles from their summoning ritual so they wouldn't be lost in the darkness. "Shirou, how much faith would you put in your father?"

The odd question was enough to catch him off guard. Locking up for a second, the boy abruptly finished lighting one last candle before turning around to face his servant. She was leaning with her back against the door, eyes closed and a tired edge to her features. "For the most part I trust that my father's plans will lead to the best outcome, but I make my own decisions as well."

The girl opened her eyes, looking at him without turning her head. "My intention is not to sow doubt of your father within your mind, but merely to make you aware that your father may be hiding information from you to achieve his own goals."

Opening his mouth to speak, a dull ache spontaneously formed in his skull. Forming the first syllable elevated the dull ache to a stabbing pain and he reflexively shut his eyes to repress the pain. On the back of his eyelids, were flickering images of a man writing in a journal. Memories that weren't his own, imported from writing replayed once more. Kiritsugu _was_ hiding something from him, the identity of Caster from the last Grail War.

Saber pushed off the door to straighten herself. "As mentioned earlier, I do not wish to disrupt your paternal relationship but you must consider your actions and make them on your own. A poor king is one whose voice originates from over his shoulder."

Shirou didn't agree with all of Kiritsugu's methodology, but however bloody and ruthless, he couldn't overlook his efficiency. If the outcome would unquestionably end in casualties, the best thing to do beyond discovering an alternative plan would be to limit casualties as much as possible and that was Kiritsugu's motive. That in no way meant Shirou's decisions weren't his own. "If there's something wrong with the old man's plans, I'll be the first to speak up."

Watching his eyes, the girl nodded slowly. "Very well, then I will trust your judgement unless you provide me with a reason not to."

"We should register in the war tomorrow night, we can reduce the chances of encountering another master and formalize our position in the War."

Saber nodded. "Before you continue I must, unfortunately, move on to beating a dead horse and ask if you still intend to fight alongside the servants in this War."

Groaning, the boy cracked his neck by rolling it. "I've shown you that I can survive against another servant, especially if they underestimate me."

"You may be able to survive light combat unaided by magical power, yes, but I wonder how you might fare against a servant who happens to be a little more determined."

"So you want to fight at full power using all you can?" Shirou concluded, wondering why a servant would ever use their full power against a master.

Saber shook his head, a slight relief to the boy. "I would like you to fight Lancer, tomorrow, preferably somewhere you won't be seen."

… … …

… … …

It hurt.

There was so much pain. Nobody had ever told her that this would hurt so much. Had they left that detail out so they could all laugh behind her back? As if on command, another shooting pain coursed through her entire body. The girl's legs failed to support her body and she collapsed onto her knees.

She wasn't a stranger to pain, in fact, she had experienced much worse than this during other occasions. That experience was the only thing stopping her from screaming bloody murder as the torment raced across her body.

She could feel that _monster_ draining her, but it was taking more than just mana. It was killing her, draining her life force just to sustain its mere existence. This was the power of a servant? He wasn't even fighting or using his noble phantasm - what the hell was it?

Resolutely, the girl lifted one shaky leg to stand, eventually rising to confront the broken existence ahead. Her nose was clogged with the dense acrid scent of sulphur and flame, which mingled with a sickly scent of burning flesh and the coppery iron quality of fresh blood.

"You are my master," he stated more than asked. He paused to look her over like one would a piece of fruit. Based on his expression, she was bruised or spoiled. "Your circuits are poor and the connection is weak." With a heavy thunk, he took a step down from the platform he had been summoned upon, approaching her and making that noxious stench that much worse. "I'll be running on my own power to save us both some trouble."

In an instant, like the man had snapped his fingers, the crushing anguish she had felt vanished. The sensation was so jarring that it made her gasp and collapsed onto her knees again.

Finding the strength to lift her head, the girl stared at the abomination she had summoned. He had a fitting name, for she could clearly see that it would be unstoppable.

"You are-"

… … …

… … …

Lancer placed a flattened hand over his eyes, gazing up at the sky with an inquisitive expression. "To go all out against a friendly master seems counterintuitive. What if I should inadvertently cause permanent injury?"

The morning after their chat, Saber worked with Shirou and Illya to immediately plan their spar, hopeful to put an end to what she claimed were his "suicidal tendencies". Because Kiritsugu wanted to remain hidden, Illya couldn't come with them to watch, even though she made every attempt to do so. She even argued that she could hide in a large bag and come out in the car once they were outside of the city, like a stowaway trying to cross a border. After making a cold lunch, Shirou was driven by Saber to a large field Kiritsugu claimed to be the exact sort of private location Saber was looking for.

The area they arrived at was spacious, settled on the top of a grassy hill range off the beaten trail. It was surrounded by sparse tree coverage and was perfect for an even footing spar.

Across the field, Shirou wanted to tell him that Avalon would protect him from such a thing, especially with Saber fueling it, but he couldn't. Instead, he told the servant, "Don't worry about that. If I can't last against you for a little while then I don't think I really deserve Saber as a servant. Whatever injury you might give me, I deserve it for being so foolish as to think I can fight servants."

Lancer stared at Shirou for a moment before blinking into a soft smile. "My, had you been alive during our time I am certain you would have made a fine addition to the round."

Shirou let the compliment roll off his back, trying to get into the mentality for an intense battle. "Is there anything you need before we start? A weapon for me to project?"

The man hummed appreciatively. "Yes, it does appear that I lack a weapon. Were this a more urban element, I would decline the offer. In the current case, I would like a sword: Thirty-nine inches long, balanced to the rear with a lenticular cross and a straight guard." Watching Shirou struggle with the request, Lancer laughed. "Or whatever you have to offer. I can make do with whatever you can produce."

Shirou's only struggle was altering a decent sword to match the knight's specifics and that was quite minor. "Hold out your hand," Shirou directed, waiting until the knight did as requested. Focusing on the spot, Shirou created a blade at the desired coordinates, surprising the servant when the construction and weight appeared from the very air. As Lancer's hand coiled around the grip, the surface rapidly changed to the peculiar ivory and gold that enveloped any weapon in his possession.

Swinging his chosen blade around to test its weighting, Lancer appreciatively looked the weapon over. "Quite a feat, it would have been advantageous to have you as a master."

"Enough with the banter, start the spar," Saber directed from the sidelines, looking partly annoyed.

Shrugging part ways toward Shirou, Lancer's armour snapped into position with the sound of shattered glass. "Prepare yourself, young master!" the knight shouted, readying his blade.

"Trace on!" Shirou commanded, and the fortified clothing Bazett had crafted for him appeared on his body. Extending both hands, two green blades appeared in his grasp. This was a real battle, he couldn't afford to make mistakes.

Lancer was upon him in a moment and the first strike had the force of a rampaging train. Barely holding his arms in place, Shirou fell into his tested tactic, keeping up with the knight despite his overwhelming strength and agility.

Unlike Saber, the knight was able to see straight through this tactic. In midswing, the knight abruptly halted his arms and twisted his body to rocket a kick directly into his hips, pinching his elbow against his body as he did.

The force was incredible and Shirou was blown back onto the grass, rolling twice before he could dig in his feet and stop himself. Surprisingly, his outfit had managed to severely dampen the impact and pain. It was how the boy could stand with relative ease. His arm had received the blow the worst, and every motion below the elbow sent searing pain through the entire limb. "An interesting tactic. I don't believe I've ever seen anything so brave and effective while being equal parts courageous and stupid."

"Story of my life," Shirou murmured, testing his arm as Avalon healed it. It was obvious that he couldn't win a battle with the blade. Assuming such a thing was stupid.

But it had tricked Lancer into making the mistake of creating distance between them. Dematerializing the blades in both hands, Shirou reached into his mind for the English longbow he favoured greatly. Moving his hands to position themselves around the inevitable weapon, Shirou began altering a sword to act as an arrow. It would destroy the bow, but if he shaved some reinforcement off in two specific points, it would split after firing, rather than violently explode into toothpicks.

The bow and string fell into his grasp, and just as soon, the sword was notched and he was drawing to fire.

Shirou caught the slight widening of Lancer's eyes as he realized what was happening. His body lurched forward, but Shirou projected an angled blade in his direct path. If the Servant carried forward without noticing, the weapon would impale him. Hesitating just the barest moment was all that retained the distance between the two which gave the boy all the time he needed. As Shirou released the string and the bow tore itself apart, he carried on with the rest of his mental plans.

Duplicating the weapon in flight, creating them at multiple angles, leaping to the side from his known position while the dust concealed the servant entirely.

Shirou would never call himself a knight, that simply wasn't who he was. He was a tactician, an abuser of everything that was available to him. With a skill set like his, that conveniently happened to be everything.

As the dust cloud from his earlier attack subsided, Shirou repeated the process of creating a new projectile, this time charging the sword with mana to create a large explosion. Reaching into his mind, Shirou called forth a familiar bo staff from his time at the Clock Tower, using its extending feature to launch himself high into the air.

Projecting so much so rapidly was taxing his mana more than he was comfortable with, but overwhelming firepower from all angles to disorientate and confuse was the only way Shirou could survive. Direct head-to-head battle would get him killed. He had ways to reduce the cost, but those secrets were best left as such until necessary.

With the next barrage of weapons away, Shirou landed just in time to feel the entire hill quake beneath his feet due to the resulting explosions. The detonation had sent even more dirt into the air, adding smoke to the haze to make an efficient cloud of concealment.

Preparing another blade and bow in his mind, Shirou drew back the string to fire a new type of arrow he had considered only in theory. Before he even considered a shot, a white blur shot out from the smoke and ruined what opportunity he had.

He wasn't fast enough to replace his bow with swords and Lancer deftly wrapped a charred gauntlet around his neck. Being yanked from his feet, Shirou was able to survey the damage he had made in much greater detail. The pauldron on his left shoulder had been blown off entirely, leaving behind a burned, still-smoking section behind. He was bleeding, but only from a small cut on his cheek. Somewhere along the way, he had also broken or lost his weapon as well, as his hands were empty.

Shirou was in shock, partly because of the sudden burst of speed and partly because of the damage he had managed to cause. While nothing really quantified as an injury, damaging magically woven armour was a feat on its own.

Perhaps a little slower than he ought to have, Shirou realized he couldn't breathe and he struggled to correct the fact. Gripping the knight's arm, Shirou considered a handful of options, some he had never tried before. Gritting his teeth, Shirou formed projected blades behind Lancer, firing them off as fast as he could.

The servant's eyes widened for a moment, battle awareness saving his life as he snapped his head back to lock onto the incoming weaponry. With unprecedented agility, the knight used his free hand to snatch the nearest projectile out of the air. With a new weapon, he easily dispatched three more projectiles before the weapon shattered into sparks. The entire chain of events had been so fast, Shirou was amazed that he could even comprehend them.

The moment of distraction was enough for Shirou to get his feet up to plant a donkey kick onto the knight's plated chest. His reinforced muscles were more than enough to force him violently from the man's grip, launching him a few feet away. Rolling onto his feet, Shirou projected two fresh blades into his hands in case Lancer decided to follow. He didn't, thankfully, and it gave the boy a chance to plan his next attack.

Snarling as he predicted the incoming pain, Shirou drew from his circuits, pouring an excessive amount of mana into his blueprints. If Lancer would merely swat away the weapons, he would need to make them explode on contact, so it caused damage regardless. The first would be the most effective, the surprise of a new tactic playing to Shirou's advantage.

With the blueprints of his weapons lined up, Shirou began forming the weapons over his shoulders, with one very specifically positioned in front just at his arm's reach. He had never tried using his magecraft like this, but if it could prove to Saber that he could handle himself in a real fight, it would be worth it.

He could defend Illya, he would show her that, he would show them all. "Set, lock coordinates." The swords snapped into position, targeting their enemy with vibrating tips. Lancer had been walking forward, but his step hitched as he caught sight of the new threat.

Analyzing the construction of the sword just ahead, Shirou concluded that it wasn't good enough. It was far from perfect, with a glaring imperfection running down the very center. On top of that, it was filled to the brim with mana that threatened to violently erupt at any moment. None of it mattered, so long as it would fully form in the world, it would be good enough for Shirou's purposes.

The last step before his projections were realized was specifying a velocity input, the final safety. Allowing the blade in his left hand to return to mana, Shirou reached forward to lay his fingers upon the hovering blade's hilt. The maneuver would likely take all the mana he had, but if it worked as he expected it to, he wouldn't need anymore.

" **Time Alter, Triple Stagnate** \- release!"

… … …

… … ..

"Master Kiritsugu, what are you doing?"

The man was concentrated on his work, managing nothing more than a mere questioning grunt as he focused intently on his fingers. With surgical precision, he slipped a miniature spring around an equally small peg. Easing off the pressure, a soft click sounded and the man carefully moved his hands from the table. "What would you like?"

Missy straightened under his gaze. She was tired, but Kiritsugu wanted her to survey the Tohsaka manor overnight. If he suspected that she wasn't mentally prepared for a stakeout, he would call it off and she would be left feeling useless. "I was just curious as to what you were doing."

The man looked between her and the tabletop littered with various miniature components. "I purchased a few dozen landmines from a shady wholesaler years ago. They didn't come with explosive payloads so I've been working on repriming them. There's a chance that they might come in handy."

Missy paled, registering the implications. "You've been working on explosives in the house?"

Kiritsugu stood and calmly strode past her into the hall. "Of course, I can't leave the house to do it anywhere else. As nobody else can do the work, the responsibility falls to me."

When Kiritsugu explained his motives, everything seemed so clear. It was one of the reasons Missy had allowed herself to become his disciple. "I see, is there anything you would ask of me before I rest for tonight?"

He stopped abruptly, turning part ways so he could look her in the eyes. "Yes, there is," he admitted, facing her directly. "I have a gift for you, but I'm not entirely certain that it's quite ready yet." Narrowing his eyes, he seemed to remember something. "Has Lancer's suit arrived?"

She nodded sharply. "This morning, sir. A contact of yours also called, they wanted me to tell you that your delivery is ready for pickup." Kiritsugu had a gift for her? She had told him several times over that she disliked gifts, that he didn't owe her anything.

"That's good to hear, you wouldn't mind presenting him with both as you did Saber, would you?" The man strode past her and where he had begun, obviously changing objectives in his mind.

Following from a short distance, Missy claimed that she wouldn't mind at all before adding on her own concerns. "Do you really believe that the two servants the children have summoned will be able to cooperate for nothing?"

Carrying down the hall to the far wing of the house, Kiritsugu replied without much emotion. "It's not for nothing. As I've told them, they'll be saving billions of lives should they dismantle the system rather than use it. Their _chivalric code_ practically demands they follow through."

The man opened a door and motioned for her to follow. "I see, so it was advantageous that they summoned such compatible servants," she admired, spontaneously making note of where she was at the moment. "Why are we in an empty room?"

"Sit on the bed," the man claimed drly, crouching at a small dresser off to the side.

Doing as instructed, the girl rapidly contemplated what was about to take place. Was he...? There was no way. Kiritsugu was a man who had confined himself to a house for years, but could his urges finally be getting the better of him?

She shut her eyes, trying to clear the thoughts away. Each attempt failed and brought swirling questions to her head. A rush of warm blood hit her face and she felt light-headed. This was happening rather fast, she didn't have any time to prepare! "Kiritsugu, I-"

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, cutting her off. Her eyes popped open to an unexpected sight: A fully-clothed Kiritsugu holding something wrapped in heavy cloth. "You appear flushed," he observed, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

Blinking and clearing her throat, the girl realized how foolish she had been and she excused her flustered condition on a sudden flash of warmth associated with the room change. In an attempt at distracting him, she reached up tentatively to draw back the cloth from whatever he held. The man allowed her to do such a thing and she quickly revealed four specific objects.

Two pistols, a knife and some bizarre type of monocular device. The pistols were lovingly crafted. Deep, matte black bodies with pristine, stunning pearl grips which contrasted the weapons wonderfully. On those same grips, were two simple black roses beneath beautiful golden cursive. The writing was in English, of a name she was unfamiliar with: "Maiya".

The knife appeared rather simplistic. She immediately recognized its exact model. D80, an offshoot of the M9 bayonet style of blades. It was standard military order really, but what really caught her eye were some strange symbols scrawled onto the side of the blade.

The last item of note, the monocular which was also in black, was large and gaudy with a comparatively small viewing port. There was a rail mount on the bottom, making her wonder if it was intended to be a scope.

"Before the War starts, I wanted to give you some additional equipment that might prove useful." As she picked up the two pistols, Kiritsugu began to explain. "Each item here is specifically designed to combat magi but to do so in an unassuming way. The pistols fire special bullets which explode on contact with blood or other bodily fluids. The stronger the magus, the more powerful the reaction. You'll have four magazines, thirty-two rounds in total so it's best to use them sparingly. Only use them as a last-ditch effort, or if you're sure the target is a magus." Setting down the two firearms, she lifted the blade from his hands. "That knife activates in the same way, contacting blood. Unlike the bullets though, it won't explode. Instead, it applies a minor curse that prevents healing. It's nothing permanent or truly damning, but it's enough to be an annoyance if nothing else."

Nodding as she considered the implications and uses, the woman set the blade down and lifted the last item from his hands, the monocular, asking, "And this?"

"A thermal imaging scope. As it's not zeroed for any rifle, the best use would be to use it as you would binoculars. In order to use magecraft, a magus generates mana within their body, an action which also creates heat that can be spotted easily with devices such as this. Masters of servants need to continually feed mana to their servants, so their thermal image will always be hotter than normal people surrounding them."

Missy tried to peek through the device to see what was on the other side, concluding that the device was likely off as she couldn't see a thing. Returning her attention to her mentor, the girl nodded softly. "I appreciate these gifts, should the situation arise I will be sure to put them to good use."

Kiritsugu stared at her blankly, eyes cold and distant. It was unnerving, but she had gotten used to seeing him that way during their missions. "Be careful during your stakeout of the Tohsaka manor. She may have already summoned her servant earlier than we have and they may not be so kind to spies."

Missy nodded in understanding and without much more conversation the man left her alone with her gifts. Collecting them all, the girl considered where she would keep such items in her room. She disliked clutter and would need to hide these things from any prying eyes. Even though Kiritsugu was the only one who ever came in unannounced without proper warning, it was good to be safe.

Halfway to her room, Kiritsugu met her once more to offer the two additional magazines he had mentioned earlier. With the weapons already loaded with one, that made four. Thanking the man again, she stowed off to her room to both find a good hiding place and take a nap in preparation for her next mission.

Awakening to the sound of the alarm she had set, Missy prepared herself and left without being spotted by any other member of the household. It felt wrong to sneak around people so hospitable and kind as Shirou and Illya were, but Kiritsugu had expressly told her that such a thing was necessary.

With the sun down and darkness quickly descending over Fuyuki, Missy travelled straight south toward her objective. The Tohsaka manor - and Matou manor for that matter - were positioned rather expertly in a soft hollow surrounded by the cover of trees, buildings and fence work.

For this reason, it was surprisingly difficult to find a good vantage point where one could survey the occupants without sticking out. Thankfully, Kiritsugu had the answer as always. According to him, there was a specific apartment building which had a rooftop that would prove to be the optimal vantage point. As if he had been planning such an event years in advance, the man had gained access through legitimate means and even installed foliage the previous years to provide a moderately believable form of concealment that wouldn't be out of place. With Kiritsugu, asking questions usually created more, so she settled with being grateful that something had been prepared.

Following the directions she had been given, Missy reached the specified building where she discovered a rather conveniently placed row of planter boxes housing some lush topiary. Examining it for a moment, Missy made note of a larger spacing between two plants, a space which formed a small opening in the direction of the Tohsaka residence.

Deciding not to waste any more time, the woman removed the slung bag from her shoulder and set it onto the roof of the building, unzipping it to withdraw all that she would need: A pair of binoculars and a simple notebook.

As it was the roof of an apartment building, a handful of chairs were assembled around a table for those wishing to get some fresh air or smoke cigarettes. Moving one over to provide her with some comfort, the girl peered through the subtle viewing spot to gaze upon her target. With the binoculars, she had a good enough view to peer into a handful of the windows.

Her watch garnered zero results for hours. Patiently waiting for a while longer got her a sighting at the very least. It was Rin, standing at the window of what Missy could only assume was the living room based on furniture inside.

The amount of time and stillness of her body was unnatural, to say the least. Missy narrowed her eyes behind the glass of her binoculars, what was she doing?

The girl's head snapped in her direction and a brief smile formed on her face. Feeling a sense of dread, Missy didn't even have a moment to react before something violently shattered the binoculars in her hand, producing a headache-inducing screech as something landed mere inches away from her.

The woman practically bolted from her position, terror on her face as she tried to spot the threat. Unlike most, the half-assassin snapped one hand behind her back to withdraw a pistol on instinct. Realizing nobody was there, Missy looked down at the hand that had been holding her binoculars to see if there had been any damage. Miraculously, there wasn't. With enough clarity to realize there was nobody there, she surveyed the area in greater detail.

Nobody was there, but her position had been compromised quite clearly. Sticking ajar from the topiary and skewing her binoculars to the roof, was a large piece of rebar which offered a clear message:

"Stay away."

… … …

… … …

Shirou bolted upright in bed, jarring the girl beside him into a similar position. It took him a moment of frantic looking around the room before he realized that he was back in his own room, safe and free of harm.

The last thing he remembered was using Time Alter on a sword in his spar against Lancer. The spell had worked as Shirou expected, but he hadn't planned for the extreme amount of pain that had come with it. It had obviously been too much for him to handle, as he had fallen unconscious at that point. He struggled to stand but something was holding him back and limiting his movement.

He subconsciously registered that there were hands gripping his arm and his ears quickly tuned in to what was being shouted at him. "-alright, you're safe!"

Shirou's panic subsided slowly as he realized he was safe. "Illya? How am I back home, what happened?" he asked, squinting. It was dark in his room, which meant that some time had passed since the spar.

The girl rolled her eyes, shifting in the futon to settle more comfortably on her knees. "You did what you always do. Pushed yourself way too hard and got yourself hurt."

He moved a hand to his forehead, trying vainly to recollect forgotten events. "Is Lancer alright?"

The girl tilted her head. "You're more concerned about Lancer? He'll still need to recover for a little while longer but he's fine." The girl yawned heavily, trying to rub at her eyes.

Shirou's eyes widened for a new reason now. "I managed to hurt a servant that badly?"

"You really have no idea _what_ you did, do you?" she asked while shaking her head. "I'm too tired to tell you right now but first thing in the morning I will, alright?"

While he wasn't tired, he had obviously disturbed Illya's resting time and that was enough to guilt him into lying back down. Staring up to the ceiling, the girl latched onto one of his arms and rapidly succumbed to her fatigue.

Shirou could only stare at the ceiling and allow his mind to wander. At the very least, his coma-like time hadn't been influenced by dreams. While he had disliked his changing dreams before, they had gotten progressively worse after he summoned Saber. He still couldn't remember them shortly after waking but he knew quite well that they were terrifying.

Shifting his head to the side, he watched Illya's peaceful face for some time. That was what he was fighting for, but he had to act smart to ensure such a thing was even possible.

The old man and he had spoken at length about Illya. As a homunculus, she was this War's grail. That meant if she were to absorb the energy of the servants, she would die shortly after.

The two Emiya males had gone over several plans, trying to determine a way they could eliminate the other servants without bringing Illya to harm and they had settled on one foolproof tactic: distance.

With distance, came an exponential jump in mana cost. It was a known and well-documented fact of all magecraft. In a hypothetical situation where it would take one unit of mana to form an object nearby through projection, it would take ten units to produce that very same projection five meters away. This property coincided with another, or perhaps it explained another. Mana would always follow the path of least resistance, like electricity. That was why formal craft put so much emphasis on proper grounding and stability, so it could direct the flow of mana as intended.

With that information in mind, a plan was eventually conceived. It wasn't so much of a coordinated list of steps as it was a guideline for them both to follow. They had to keep Illya as far from Fuyuki as they reasonably could so that her body couldn't absorb the energy of the defeated servants.

According to Kiritsugu, who had gained the knowledge from his time at the Einzbern castle, the energy of a dying servant would enter the closest, most viable candidate to become the Grail. At a certain point, the one being filled with that energy would cease functioning as a human being and would become the vessel of the Grail. So to prevent Illya from meeting such a fate, they merely had to keep her away from any servants, ensuring she would never absorb any of their energy should they fall.

Keeping Illya far away and safe was Kiritsugu's task during the War. Shirou would handle the War, using Lancer and Saber to pull it off on his own. That plan had the added benefit of keeping Illya out of the line of fire, but neither one of the Emiya males had really taken her own thoughts on the matter into account. There was a chance that she would want to fight alongside Shirou to protect him, an ironic act that would put herself in danger.

Sighing, Shirou returned to watch the ceiling. It hadn't changed since he'd last looked. "I am the bone of my sword," he murmured, a phrase he had enunciated hundreds of times trying to determine his reality marble aria.

There was a soft grumble as the girl beside him shifted unconsciously at the words. Thankful that he hasn't woken her, Shirou closed his eyes just to give them a rest.

Mere seconds after, a knock echoed through his room. Shortly after, the door was slid open and Kiritsugu's dimly lit features came into view. "We need to have a meeting. Gather your sister and come to the kitchen."

Following instructions, Shirou rose and brought an indignant Illya with him to the kitchen. There, Missy explained the situation and relayed what little information she had gathered.

Listening while he crafted a cup of coffee, Kiritsugu was quick to summarize their situation. "Even though you returned early, we've ultimately determined the answer to our question either way. The Tohsaka master has summoned her servant. As expected, they're protecting their information and stopping anyone from gathering more," Kiritsugu hummed, covering his mouth with one hand.

"But the way they reacted could tell us what type of servant they summoned, couldn't it?" Missy asked, looking at the hand that had almost been lost just moments prior.

Kiritsugu shook his head softly. "The best we can do is guess."

"Maybe it's Caster?" Shirou suggested.

Kiritsugu shrugged. "It's entirely possible. I don't know of many servants who use construction materials as their weapon of choice, beyond Lancelot in specific scenarios."

Shirou straightened, his memory jogged. There was a question in his mind that he had meant to ask but couldn't find the right time. While it wasn't particularly the right time, it would be good to get it out of the way. "Kiritsugu, when Lancer and Saber were sparring you made a comment that mentioned Berserker. Did you recognize Lancer?"

He nodded. "Of course. It was easy to correlate Lancer to the Berserker of my War. The armour they wore was unmistakable even if they were different in colour," he answered.

"But the weapon appeared out of nowhere, right? Can servants make and throw weapons at people with that precision without being seen?" Illya questioned, resting her head on the table. Like Shirou, she had been woken up from the middle of her slumber with Missy's news. Unlike Shirou, she was taking the abrupt waking significantly harder.

Illya's input returned Shirou to the matter at hand. "Maybe it's an Archer class servant? But rebar is a modern item, what sort of legend would use something like that as an arrow?"

"While uncommon, it is possible for modern legends to become servants. The Mage's Association has a surprising amount of documentation on the ritual should you know where to look. The contact I have on the inside was able to gather some known details regarding the ritual and attempts to recreate it across the globe. For starters, there are more than the traditional seven we're all familiar with. In fact, there are fourteen possible classes, though their rarity makes them hardly worth mentioning."

"Is there a servant class that uses construction implements as weapons?" Shirou asked dryly.

"Unfortunately no, things aren't that simple," Kiritsugu sighed.

"So we still have no idea what sort of servant she might have summoned, but she has summoned one," Shirou summarized.

"Correct. Archer, Caster or Berserker are all options. It could even be Assassin or a Rider class servant that throws objects from their mount."

"Ultimately we're still grasping at straws then - I apologize for being unable to gather any worthwhile information," Missy claimed, visibly upset about the matter.

Shirou looked toward his father expectantly, assuming he would decline the self-deprecating notion. He was taken aback when the man did nothing of the sort and carried on seemingly oblivious. "Unfortunately, Rin has garnered more information tonight than us. Because she knows Missy, she'll correctly assume Illya has already summoned her servant as well, as there would be no reason to watch a rival master otherwise. The Tohsaka is rather smart, so she may have already predicted that you are a master as well, Shirou," he hummed, bringing one hand to his face. "I believe today is the optimal time to proclaim your involvement in the War. Go with your servants to the church, Caren will undoubtedly be waiting."

"We have to stay awake longer?" Illya groaned, lifting her head enough to drearily look toward her father, then Shirou with a pleading, pouty look in her eyes. He knew what was coming and he also knew that he wouldn't be able to decline her request.

… … …

With how many times Shirou had traced Illya before implanting Avalon inside her, specifics regarding her body were practically ingrained in his mind, though with his memory, that wasn't much of a problem anyway. Four feet, four-point four inches and seventy-four point six nine eight two pounds, give or take one or two pounds depending on the day and caloric intake.

While small and light, that weight grew heavier with time and after the hour walk to the Fuyuki Church, she might as well have weighed two hundred pounds. With how much training he put himself through, it was just starting to get difficult.

Saber's voice momentarily distracted him. "I can carry Illyasviel if you are feeling tired, Shirou." As they were going out biblically as master and servant, Saber had put on a well-fitting black suit with matching tie. Even though she was a woman, Shirou couldn't help but admit the outfit was rather fitting for her demeanour. Serious, tactical and masculine, all things the suit seemed to amplify.

Shooting his servant a glare, he cast a look down to the peacefully sleeping girl in his arms. "It's fine, I can do this for hours."

The soft sound of rushing air brought his attention to his other side. Lancer had appeared, in a near-identical suit. The only real difference was the size and thin purple lines on the tie, something which added subtle colour to the ensemble. "I believe the young master has proved himself to us enough, my liege, has he not?"

Saber made a derisive noise. "My master is a worthy combatant for servants and masters alike, though he is far from infallible."

Lancer leaned close to his ear, armour clanking even with the slight motion. "Take it from me, that's his-her way of showing respect."

Turning his head to watch Lancer as the servant fell into step behind him, Shirou gave the man a strange look. "I thought Illya said you were healing after our spar. You don't seem that hurt to me."

Chuckling without opening his mouth, the servant nodded. "I was quite injured after that attack, yes. However, my master is quite a powerful specimen and it took mere hours to regenerate my body."

Facing forward, Shirou continued their walk. "You know, nobody ever told me what happened after I passed out. Illya was supposed to this morning but then this all happened."

Saber made a noise, drawing his attention. "I had intended to give you an overview of the battle from my perspective but had yet to find the appropriate time. There is no time like the present, I suppose. Only one attack, your final one, carried enough power to truly harm a servant. While the attacks made with your bow were enough to leave marks and annoy, they would merely buy time. The weapons you launched from the air were the weakest, unable to do anything beyond annoy."

Working together, Lancer contributed his own comments to his king's observations. "Regarding those airborne projectiles you create, do not be afraid to fire them in my direction should I find myself without a weapon. Moving on, the final attack you made was considerably powerful, even for a servant. It moved faster than I could even comprehend, removing my entire left arm with ease. Had it been aimed with more precision, there is a chance I would not be speaking with you at the moment."

Rather than marvel at his accomplishment, Shirou felt surprisingly apathetic. He hadn't known that it would work outright or with such efficiency, but he had expected it to work in some capacity at the very least. In the end, it was just another tactic in his arsenal that he could use against serious foes. "Well, now you both _have_ to accept me as a competent master, as someone who can fight alongside you at the front lines."

The two servants were silent before Saber let out a deep sigh. "Reluctantly, yes. I still advise you remain toward the rear as servants may waste no time in killing you outright before any one of us could respond."

"And what if a servant attacked you like that instead? Then you'd be dead and I'd be next anyway." Saber was silenced by such agreeable reasoning. If a servant had been able to get past their awareness and make a strike against him without being spotted, they wouldn't have been able to defend him regardless of where he was on the battlefield. Staying so close to the servants had the possibility of being more advantageous, in fact.

The conversation faltered as they reached the fenced area of the church. Shirou paused momentarily to admire the fringe-gothic inspired architecture. The servants at his sides did the same. "Should we accompany you?" Saber asked, throwing a glance toward Lancer.

Shirou hesitated for a moment. There wasn't much harm in bringing them inside or leaving them behind but it was always better when others knew less. "I don't think we'll need you, stand guard here and alert us if anyone else approaches."

Both servants nodded respectfully, turning to watch the path like bodyguards. With that decided, Shirou moved closer toward the Church, holding just before the doors. "Illya, I can't carry you inside. You'll also have to speak to Caren to register as a master."

With a stirring murmur, the girl tried to roll in his arms, an act which almost sent her careening down to the stone below. "I was having such a good dream and you ruined it," the girl complained, stretching out an arm that struck him directly in the chin.

Making an annoyed noise, the boy blew on his sisters face. It was enough to force her into awakening and the girl struggled to escape his grasp onto her own feet. Managing, the homunculus drearily rubbed at her eyes and produced a great yawn. "Let's get this over with so I can go back to sleep."

Pressing his hand against the heavy door, Shirou gave Illya an odd look. "We're committing ourselves to the most dangerous task of our entire lives, where we might be forced to kill our friends in order to stop a corrupt system that could destroy the entire world and you just want to get to sleep?"

The girl nodded righteously. "Rest comes first. Everything else is secondary."

The door creaked ajar, but Shirou paused. "Even me then?"

The girl stiffened and began trying to excuse herself, stumbling with her sleep-addled mind and the surprise of his question. Pushing the door open fully, Shirou was graced with the light, pleasing scent of incense. Inside, the interior was as he remembered - clean, dimly lit but inviting all the same.

"Caren?" he called out, expecting her to be where she typically was in the middle of the night, asleep behind the central podium. When the girl failed to rise from her expected spot, Shirou immediately sensed something amiss.

It wasn't that she typically slept behind the podium, she _always_ took naps in that exact spot. For as many times as Shirou had arrived in this church, she had risen like clockwork from that position. Illya's soft footsteps entered from behind, and Shirou extended a hand to motion for her to hold.

"Trace on," he murmured to the still space. On-demand, two green blades formed within his grasp, the only symbol of security he had. While he could call forth the servants from outside, that would destroy the respect he had built with Saber. While she was more accepting of him fighting at their side, she hadn't fully committed to the idea.

Drawing weapons in a church felt a little wrong but considering the stakes, what other choice did he have? With trained caution, the boy skulked through the church, checking his corners and watching for anything out of place.

When he found nothing, he felt stumped. He was at a loss. There was nothing here, but he had never really explored the Church in depth before. There was a chance that there was a basement entrance he was missing.

Calling her name out and pausing to listen, he heard strange noises from deeper within the building. Following them to their source lead him to a darkly lit stairway downward. Shirou didn't recall Caren ever commenting about a basement; did it house her bedroom perhaps?

He took one step down into the murky depths before something glowing caught his eyes. Like something out of his nightmares, two yellow orbs appeared below, staring directly at him.

"Shirou," the orbs stated, much to the boy's relief. "What can I help you with?"

Letting out a calming breath and dematerializing the blades in his hands, the boy moved back into the light off the stairway. "Illya and I are here on business. We've come to register as masters in the War."

For as long as he had known Caren, he could certify without a doubt that the girl never flinched, winced or jumped in surprise for anything. Even when Illya had snuck up behind to scare her, the girl merely turned and almost sarcastically commented on how frightful the act was.

But the girl twitched then. He could tell as the two yellow orbs jumped just slightly in the darkness. "Please give me a moment," she calmly stated, disappearing into the depths.

Returning to the main area, he found Illya sitting in one of the pews, kicking her legs idly. Noticing his return, her head bounced up to look him in the eyes. Before she could even ask if the priestess was there, he explained that she was and took a seat beside her to wait.

"Tell her to hurry up so I can go back to sleep," the girl mumbled, leaning against him.

Patiently waiting for Caren to arrive, Shirou made note of Illya's soft snoring. It was miraculous how the girl could fall asleep almost anywhere when she was tired. When the priestess appeared she was hastily smoothing out her attire as if she had just put it on. With noticeable haste, the girl moved behind the raised podium and settled both hands on its surface. "You are both masters then," she claimed, nodding toward them both.

Stirring his sister awake, Shirou stood and flashed the back of his left hand. "I've summoned Saber and wish to declare my position as a master of this War." From behind with a voice obviously plagued with exhaustion, Illya claimed something similar, replacing "Saber" with "Lancer".

The priestess blinked, looking between the two for a moment. "I see, well I am unable to influence the Grail's decision. Your participation has been noted."

Hardly expecting things to go that smoothly, Shirou felt a little disappointed and awkward. All of his expectations seemed to be backwards. Easy tasks ended up being difficult and tasks he thought would be difficult were always simple.

Illya stood from the pew and proceeded to half walk, half stumble down the central aisle toward the exit. As Shirou turned to leave, Caren regained his attention by clearing her throat.

"Good luck."

* * *

 **I've got the next chapter pretty much finished, but it just needs some polishing... A lot of polishing. Not much to say for the end here, hope you all enjoy how chaotic the War is going to get, hopefully _all_ of your predictions were smashed and you've learned that Fate:US isn't going to be anything you could have expected.**

 **And it'll only get worse from here :}**


	24. The First Encounter

**EDIT:** **I'll tie all of these chapters together again by saying this is what my mind thinks of when editing. Why did I start it? Why not! -Berix**

 **So, I have to break some pretty unfortunate news to you all.** **Yes, as you might have guessed that means I'll be going on hiatus again. If you want someone to blame, you can direct it all at** Brazilina **(FFN:Pvsp)** **. They're the entire cause, absolutely; don't look into it any further.**

 **However, I refuse to leave you all hanging for this fic's ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY coming up at the end of October. I'll work on the next chapter until then to try and finish it, and I've been holding some ideas for something _interesting_ for a while now which will also premiere itself for a limited time then.**

 **A friend calls it an "omake", whatever that means.**

 **Anyhow, I hope you enjoy what is only the beginning!**

* * *

Kiritsugu settled his cup of coffee upon the large satellite image map draped across the table. It featured the entire layout of Fuyuki, with various small marks in three primary colours scattered about the city - hideouts, stockpiles, reconnaissance areas, potential forming sites of the Grail and previous battlegrounds of the last War. "The last most important piece would be to mark the homes of all certified masters: The Matou and Tohsaka families." With a large red marker, his apprentice did as suggested, making a large X over two separate buildings close to one another toward the south end of town. "We can mark the uncertain masters with circles," he guided. The Church and Edelfelt manor - both to the east - were quickly circled as well. Since they couldn't scout out each home individually, they had to make an educated guess on masters based on whether they were magi or not. It wasn't optimal, but it was better than nothing. With six marks on the map, Missy wavered over where to put the seventh.

"We don't have any other potential masters," she pointed out, settling back into her seat.

"Unfortunately," the man hummed. "We don't know of any other magi in Fuyuki either so the final master is a wildcard unless the Clock Tower decides to sponsor another magus as they did during my War." Curiously, the Magus Killer observed the back of his hand. Those familiar, half-formed crimson blotches still remained. Was the Grail merely waiting to make him a true master? If he were supposed to be the seventh master, which servant would he summon?

"Is there any more we can do for the young masters?"

Kiritsugu shook his head. "We've done all we can with the limited amount of information and resources we have. To make matters worse, I can't get in touch with my old contacts and you're too much of an unknown to track them down yourself so a large portion of possible assistance is entirely useless." In frustration, the man haphazardly tossed a small black book onto the table. It made a dull thud, slid to an abrupt halt and opened to a random page that contained minimalist, neat handwriting.

Feeling the projected hopelessness, the girl asked the only question floating around her mind. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Taking a sip of his coffee, the man furrowed his brow. "Normally we could spy on other potential masters, but with my current status under lockdown, I can't do it myself. Even then, not all masters will be as kind as Rin and we almost had an incident the other day. As neither of us are masters, they don't have to abide by the rules established by the Church. We're both just inconsequential casualties."

Missy wrapped both hands around her own cup of tea. "So she only kept me alive because she knows me?"

"More or less," the Magus Killer agreed. "She may have kept you alive for Shirou's sake." Glancing toward the clock, the Magus Killer made a soft noise. "We should put this away before Shirou finishes his morning training, I just wanted this meeting to be quick anyway." Lifting his cup from the paper, the man carefully rolled up one edge and pushed it in Missy's direction.

Finishing the job for him, the girl formed a tight roll and bound it together with a simple string. "I'll make one last run to gather groceries before the start of the War. While we won't be here, Shirou will need them to feed himself and his servants."

The older man nodded. "Good idea. After you gather enough for Shirou, pick up additional supplies for us at the other location along with non-perishables and meal replacement bars in case this War lasts longer than expected."

With another task on her plate, the girl prepared herself to see it through. "I should be back before dusk," she claimed, getting a vacant agreement from her master just before she left the dining room.

Stepping outside into the afternoon sun, Missy used a small portion of her mind to play the part of an autopilot to her destination. It was a simple tactic that allowed the majority of her mind to focus on more important things like her memories. Things were _almost_ coherent enough for her to understand bits and portions of her previous life. Still void of specifics, she could certify that she had lived in Japan, she had a family of some sort and she had come to Fuyuki searching for _someone_.

Who, why or if she found that someone was still an unknown. It was entirely possible that the serial killer who kidnapped her _was_ the person she was searching for, but that merely complicated things even further. What was the reason for her search? Why a serial killer? Remembering her old life always brought with it a sense of uncertain anxiety as it likely would for anyone in her position. Would it be better to return to her old life, memory gaps and all, or would it be simpler to remain in the life she knew now? The one where she was a trained killer?

She had done a fair share of good working with Kiritsugu. Stopping potential wars before they had a chance to break out, removing massive amounts of drugs and unmarked weaponry from the common underworld. She had even taken down three rogue magi on her own. She couldn't fully comprehend Kiritsugu's reasoning, but it sounded important enough to get behind. All in all, Missy had killed dozens if not hundreds and for the strangest reason, it felt almost natural. It was the same way with holding a gun. No matter what type of weapon, it felt - for lack of a better word - _right_.

So would it really be better if she regained her memories and went back to whatever life she had? Wouldn't it be better to remain in Fuyuki, working alongside an experienced man to cleanse the world of true evil?

It was probably better to wait until her memories actually returned to ask those types of questions. Hypotheticals and unknowns were a breeding ground for overzealous imagination after all.

If she survived this War, she could start to consider recollecting the scraps of her old life.

 _If_ she survived.

… … …

… … …

Airports were always such a perplexing juxtaposition. Constant busy noise from people with nothing to do, scents of disinfectant, mingling perfumes and body odour and the perfect on-time order attempting to control mindless public chaos.

Noises, sights, sounds. It was overwhelming if you let yourself get lost in it. That was why the best option was to ignore it all completely. Even better if you could make yourself invisible to the public eye. The silver canister rotating around the baggage carousel had met the end of its travel and a hand quickly hefted it upward so that its sling caught its owner's shoulder.

This had never been the exact plan, but they had predicted that they would play a part in this for months. Forced into the role of master, they were unable to prepare, unable to discern the foe ahead, they had to bring everything - just in case it would come in use.

Stepping out of the terminal, familiar sights and scents struck all at once. There was nostalgia here, a sense of familiarity. With a moment of brief recollection over, they spoke. "Let's find the nearest place for a stiff drink."

A voice replied. "At two in the afternoon? Keep this up and we might just start to like each other."

A soft snort, a shake of the head. They were here now, though it wasn't like they could turn back before then anyway. Once they were together, their destiny had been sealed. While they may have been reluctant, neither one planned on dying. One of them even hoped to regale their story for years to come.

And as all good stories did, this one would start with a drink.

… … …

… … …

Skipping school _again_ was enough to get Taiga infuriated. Arriving at the Emiya household in the evening, Kiritsugu was the only thing stopping her from tearing off his head and mounting it on a shinai. The old man ran defence, claiming Shirou _was_ handling his schoolwork, just that he merely felt like staying home for a time, neither of which were lies, thankfully - Shirou was even able to prove his educational diligence after collecting what he needed a few days prior.

Following the summoning of his servant, his entire life had effectively ground to a halt. He couldn't go to school, he couldn't work at the Copenhagen and he couldn't even go outside for a walk without a servant escort. Saber was like the overprotective mother he never had and never really wanted.

She had a point, sure, but he could handle himself long enough for a servant to come to his aid. Besides, it would be an incredibly foolish decision by a magus to break the rules mandated by the Church. Shirou had fought an executioner once before - he didn't want to face another and he felt that outlook was synonymous with most magi.

With everyone home for the entire day, they managed to tear through a considerable store of board games before the two Emiya males broke the news of their plans to Illya and the servants. Lancer and Saber didn't seem phased either way. They likely considered one less liability to be nothing but beneficial. While the servants were apathetic, Illya was far from happy and she voiced that frustration with abandon. In the end, Kiritsugu was much more resilient in the plan than Shirou was. Where the younger Emiya would have folded, Kiritsugu merely sighed and restated that it was the safest option in the softest voice he could manage.

"Master, do you wish to abide by your father's guidance?" Lancer asked, staring at the small girl. Her features clearly showcased a steep conflict within her mind.

Following a heavy pout and an equally as childish groan, the girl crossed her arms. "Sure, whatever - I guess. Just listen to Shirou's orders like you listen to me."

Kiritsugu broke into a weak smile, something he had been doing far less frequently as time went on. "I'm glad you came to agree. Gather some clothes and we'll head out tomorrow, somewhere nobody should look for us."

Illya straightened abruptly, making a loud jarring noise as she nudged the table. "Right now? But the War doesn't really start until tomorrow, can't we stay here just one more night?"

Sighing, Kiristugu shut his eyes softly. "Yes, we can. But we'll have to leave at first light to avoid being spotted, so be prepared to wake up when Shirou does. These first nights are likely to be the hardest. Any master with a mind is bound to try prodding at our defences to see how difficult a foe we might be. For the first night, we should just wait and see what becomes of it. If there's no development we can act as the aggressor on the second night."

Shirou nodded simply, even while thoughts of a different matter roamed through his mind. They had gone over the first few nights dozens of times in the past but each plan of the old man's relied on information he'd expected to gather. Obviously he couldn't get anywhere near as much as he wanted, otherwise the plan wouldn't have turned to something so vague.

With roles decided, the group ate together in the house one last time. The tension around the table was so thick it could have been spooned out onto a plate to become another dish upon the table.

Nobody was talking, though whether it was in fear, nervousness or anticipation of what was to come wasn't entirely discernible.

Once the meal was devoured, the servants returned to their watchful posts while the remaining members of the house all went to bed early in preparation for what was to come.

Nightmares or not, Shirou would have to get some rest, otherwise, he wouldn't be at peak performance when he needed it the most. Settling into position on that side of the futon, he closed his eyes and prepared to drift off.

He would have too if it weren't for a whisper of his name preventing him. "I know you're awake," it claimed, forcing him to open his eyes. With a soft noise of annoyance, he shifted beneath the quilting to look at the perpetrator. The peculiarity of sleeping beside his sibling, who looked younger than him by a decade but was actually older by a year, was far from lost on him. "Well, I just thought that, since I'll be going early tomorrow and I'm not as talkative in the mornings, that I could tell you what I want to right now while I remember it."

Confused, Shirou scrunched up his face and wiggled to be more comfortable lying on that side. "What do you mean?"

The girl wouldn't look him in the eyes, staring at the pillow beneath his head instead. "Well in case we never see each other again I just wanted you to know that you're the best brother I could have asked for."

Confused, Shirou mounted a response. "Illya I'm not dying-"

"You might," she interrupted, finally looking into his eyes. "But it's not you I'm worried about," she paused, shifting his train of thought entirely. "Just in case someone gets to wherever we go-"

He made a noise that shushed her mid-sentence. "You'll be fine. Kiritsugu will be there to protect you and if you need him, Lancer will be there too." Pulling up his left hand, he flashed his command seals to her. "If you can't run away and you need Lancer to protect you, just use your command seals and summon him to you."

Shirou had absolutely no idea if such a thing would really work, but if the command seals were concentrated symbols of pure mana, they would theoretically be able to accomplish any request within reason, possibly even something near true magic. That possibility was merely increased when the master was as powerful as Illya. "But you're the one who really needs protecting," she argued.

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. Just promise me that you'll summon Lancer to your side if you're ever in real danger."

She hesitated for a moment, but silently agreed in the end. "I promise, if I need him I'll summon him."

Turning his back to the girl, he tried to settle into a relaxed, comfortable state. Even with his best efforts, he was reluctant to actually find sleep. It wasn't possible for him to be _less_ excited about the nightmare which would undoubtedly come about. "Good, now let's get some sleep."

… … …

How many times would he return, how many times would he have to battle himself on that damned hill in the middle of nowhere? Was every night just going to be a repeat of this duel?

Snatching a familiar black weapon from the air, Shirou used it to shatter another incoming white one. Before he could commit to using the weapon, he quickly threw it forward where it homed in on another white sister-blade, shattering them both in mid-flight.

Contorting his body to avoid the next volley, he faced another set head-on, ducking at the last minute so the weapons that had reversed directions behind his back could collide over his head.

He planned to take a step up the hill but had he done so, he would have had his foot forcibly removed. Forming two fresh blades of his own into his hands, he lunged forward, taking down three weapons before spinning in the opposite direction of his strike to avoid being skewered with more.

It was as if he had gone through this battle constantly for days, but it was only during the brief hours of his dreams. Lifting his head disturbed his concentration but it allowed him to glare at that ominous black figure above him. That being with so much hate, so much fury in a shape identical to his own. During their battles, it had been growing stronger, while Shirou only seemed to weaken. Each dream started the same - friends, family, even strangers all dying horribly to a twisted arsenal of unstoppable weaponry.

Had he the power to do so, Shirou would have saved them and combated the force with an array of armaments of his own. Alas, in his dreams he could barely project a half dozen swords before his circuits just gave up entirely. He had watched his loved ones die so many times now, it almost stopped bothering him.

 _That_ was precisely what terrified him. Becoming more of a machine than a man. Becoming something even more twisted than his father, shrugging off the death of those close to him as if it were as easy as breathing. Lifting his blades to prepare for the next wave, Shirou caught his own reflection in the edge of his weapon.

There was no compassion in those cold, lifeless gray eyes. There was no anger in those blank features. At what point did a face share more similarities with a blank sheet of paper? He was likely close at that moment.

There was a wet noise and a sharp stabbing pain. Briefly looking down, Shirou caught a glimpse of a sword buried to the hilt in his abdomen. His body locked up, and three more struck him at various points across center mass, sending him tumbling down the hill to the base. As his body flattened out onto his back at the base, the boy could only gaze upwards. Staring up at the clouded orange sky, the world started closing in from the edges.

"If that's what it takes."

… … …

Unexpectedly, the entire day flew by much faster than the boy could keep track of. It felt like Kiritsugu and Missy carted Illya away before Shirou could rub the sand from his eyes. With a dreary goodbye, three members of the house piled into a car and drove off toward the farthest still-livable and safest location they knew of: The ruins of the Einzbern Castle.

It was fortifiable and, while somewhat expected, its location was reasonably unknown. An additional benefit was that the entire path through the forest could be laden with traps to dissuade or downright stop any interlopers. For Kiritsugu, it was the optimal position. Benefits aside, Shirou couldn't help but worry over their safety.

Nightfall came faster than Shirou wanted it to. He had crafted a simple but tasty meal for the remaining members of his house - just Saber and Lancer - and prepared himself for what might come.

The two servants agreed - opposite to Shirou's father - that their best move would be to avoid staying in the house. The reasoning was that it was a known location for at least two other masters. That meant there was a high probability for it to become a battleground of untold proportions. If they were gone, the worst another servant could do would be to destroy the house in their absence. While unfortunate, such a thing was almost certain to happen anyway if they were to try and defend it.

"If we're such a high-value target then why don't we find Rin and try to work together? There's strength in numbers, right?" Shirou asked, getting a strong disagreeing look from his servant.

"While I wouldn't recommend it, it is an extremely risky option which is available to us. There is no guarantee that the master you choose to work with won't betray you in the future, and it's possible they will attempt to kill outright on sight."

Lancer nodded along with his king, but tilted his head and smiled sadly in the boy's direction. "I believe the master that Shirou has in mind wouldn't consider either of those tricks, hence his willingness to form an alliance."

Still sitting rigid as a board, Saber closed her eyes softly. "In either case, we need to act carefully. During my war, a battle took place within the first night that involved five servants, including myself. If nothing else, that should serve as a warning for how quickly things can get out of hand."

Shirou pushed himself to a stand from his seat. "The fewer servants we have to kill, the easier it will be to shut the Grail War down for good. We can't focus on our ultimate goal if we're fighting to stay alive all the time."

"Agreed, though-"

"And you said we needed to leave the house tonight, or that it would be better if we did. Either way, we can kill two birds with one stone. We'll either be able to test the strength of an enemy or form an alliance, all while the house remains empty." As Shirou moved to vacate the dining room and prepare, his servants rose to follow.

Saber's voice stopped him before he was out of earshot. "Shirou, do you think your friend will respond as well as you expect when two servants try to meet her head-on?"

Pausing to consider the notion, he found himself agreeing wholeheartedly. Even approaching with a single servant would be taken as a threat and in a best-case scenario it would hinder negotiations toward an alliance. "Then I'll go without a servant," he suggested.

As expected and nearly on cue, Saber pointed out a glaring flaw in his plan. "You'd go undefended?"

Shaking his head, Shirou turned his body fully toward Lancelot. "How well can you imitate Missy?"

… … …

"I think our first move tonight should be to attack the Emiya household. We can catch Shirou off guard and eliminate him from the War quickly," Archer claimed. The servant was leaned up against the wall just before the main entrance with his eyes closed and arms crossed; a typical pose for him that she had made note of.

Rin shook her head, lifting a cup of tea from the plate upon the table to her lips. "I think that's the _worst_ decision we could ever make. I have little doubt that the Emiya family has already planned to be attacked by every servant in the War collectively. While obviously more than any master or servant could handle, if anyone could find victory against such odds it would be them."

Archer made a tsk noise, and the floor creaked beneath his weight as he moved off the wall. "So our plan is just to sit around the house and wait for a master to come to us?"

After finishing a sip of tea, Rin scrunched up her face and stared down into the beverage. "Of course not, but we have to do things carefully so we aren't taken out early, or so we don't become everyone's prime target." Taking a sip and replacing the cup on the table, Rin turned to look at her servant directly. "Every master will be the most active today. Eyes will be everywhere and each move we make will be scrutinized to the extreme. There might even be a master waiting to take down the weakened survivors of a battle."

Archer stiffened and returned to leaning against the wall. "I'm not used to you being so tactically sound," he admitted, looking off through the large window. "You're usually much more reckless."

"You can thank me for that - and this world's _you_ I suppose," a soft voice claimed from the direction of the stairs. Hauling a small rolling suitcase down with her, the woman stopped at the base of the stairs to get a good look at her daughter.

"I'll be leaving now and I'll wait for your call to let me know when it's over." The woman paused, body stiff and straight as she gripped at her own hands nervously. Rin stood to wish her mother farewell and was caught by a wave of sadness after catching the look in her mother's eyes. Tears glistened at their edges and it seemed to be taking all of Aoi's willpower to keep them there, evident by a partly twitching faux smile.

Approaching quickly, Rin embraced her mother tightly, forcing the emotions welling up within back into herself. Rin had long since come to terms with the possibility of her death, but seeing her mother get so emotional over the same thought was an all-new heartbreaking pain. "I'll be fine, I promise. Expect a call from me, okay?"

It was a lie, a lie neither one of them believed by the way Aoi tightened her grasp and produced a sobbing noise. "Please be safe," she whispered then broke from the embrace and recollected her bag. Standing in front of Archer, the woman stared into the man's silver eyes long enough to visibly discomfort him. "Protect my daughter, do whatever you have to. Even if it means - even if you have to kill yourself."

Unsure of what else he could do, the servant nodded shortly and without much more delay the woman took her leave. "I don't know what to do now," Rin sighed. Returning to her seated position on the couch, the girl placed her face in her hands. "I really should have expected it but seeing my mother that upset - I don't even know if I should fight in this War."

Archer remained silent for some time, giving the girl more than enough time to compile her thoughts and come to her own conclusion. Cautiously sipping her tea, Rin managed to finish it entirely without managing to create a sure-fire plan. Just when she was about to give up and go with Archer's initial idea, a sudden painful pulse fired straight to her head and immediately sent her standing. It was a signal from her bounded field, one that revealed that its defences had been broken. It revealed the position of the break as well, but that only confused her more. The enemy was coming straight at her from the front entrance. What kind of play was that?

Her servant had caught wind of the disturbance as well. The man made a strange noise and snapped his head to peer toward the front door. "It looks like your decision has been made for you." Archer raised his hands and a bow materialized out of nowhere. It was something Rin had never seen before, something modern and formed of composites in a sleek matte black. It wasn't Shirou's tried and tested bow made of wood, that much was clear.

A projectile was forming in preparation to be fired. It wasn't an arrow and it wasn't quite a sword, but something in between the two. Rin had only seen Shirou fire swords with a bow twice in her life and each time it had been incredibly destructive. Not only had the sword pierced whatever it was pointed at, but the bow had also exploded violently as it struggled to handle the intense force. Leaping from the seat and clearing the room in a moment, Rin gripped the bow in her servant's hands and directed it toward the ground. "What are you doing? Who is it?"

Peering through the front door garnered zero results. It was too dark outside and too bright inside to even see a silhouette through the frosted glass. Archer merely scoffed and pulled the bow free from her grasp. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it faded away into blue sparks. "It's one of the ugliest things I've ever seen. Since you've disrupted my shot, you'll have to speak with it, if it can even communicate." Still perplexed by what the servant had seen, he began fading away to spirit form. "I'll line myself up somewhere else just in case you decide you _do_ want to kill it."

With her servant gone to act on his own, Rin refocused on the entrance. The edge of the bounded field was only a few seconds walk away, the intruder would have reached the door by now if they were walking forward so why hadn't they?

The knife in her mind pierced her heart, activating her circuits so she could reinforce her body. If this was an enemy, the most disgusting thing Archer has ever seen no less, she wanted to be prepared. Opening the door tentatively, the girl peeked down the darkened walkway, spotting two people: Shirou and Missy.

The boy was formally dressed for a change, donning a no-nonsense suit that held an equally dark tie. Unlike some of the suits Kiritsugu had worn, Shirou's lacked any subtle detail or striping. It was as textureless as possible, with a colour darker than the night. The only reason she managed to see him, was due to his contrasting silver eyes and hair, features that were identical to the servant she had just been speaking with. Missy was standing behind him, a short distance away wearing something much more casual: an olive blouse and dark jeans.

Rin deflated. She had been expecting something else entirely, not this. But why was Missy with him? Had Kiritsugu broken the number one rule of magi? Had he really involved a normal person in the magical world? Then again, the man wasn't known to follow rules - especially not magus rules - so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Opening the door, the girl stood in the doorway, placed both fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes in a menacing front. "I know you're a master, Emiya, and the Grail War starts today so I can only assume what you're here for."

Archer's voice echoed through her mind as she finished speaking. _"I've got a shot, just say the word."_

 _"Let's hear what he has to say first,"_ she decided, getting another disgruntled noise from the servant.

The boy shook his head, raising both hands calmly in surrender and shouting so his voice would reach her. "I'm not here to fight, Tohsaka. Why would I come here without a servant if I was?"

He made a good point. Missy was the only person beside him. That other girl, Miyo, who was apparently some Kyudo representative or something, wasn't there either. So what servant _had_ he summoned? Or was he just that stupid that he didn't bring a servant with him even after summoning one? Rin remembered that it was Emiya she was dealing with, so such a thing was _absolutely_ possible. "Then what are you here for? To beg for my help? I'm sorry Shirou, but I won't give up my family's dream for you, even if you are important to me."

"That's not it," he declared, surprising her. "I don't have a wish for the Grail. Everything I could want, I can and have to accomplish myself. Making a wish and having all the effort done for me just makes that victory cheap, it's just a cheat." He took a step forward, keeping his hands raised. "Even if I did have a wish, the Grail would never be able to make it anyway. I could tell you all about the War, tell you why it's not worth fighting, but I think it's better for you to see things for yourself."

Rin was speechless. That was almost exactly what Archer had said to her. Maybe they really were alike, maybe Shirou's fate _was_ to become a counter guardian. She wanted to believe him, to put her faith in him and work side by side with the boy she lo-liked, but she couldn't bring herself to commit to the idea, not yet. "Is that all you're here for?" she asked instead.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not your enemy. If you want to be allies, we can, but-" Shirou abruptly cut himself off with a pained noise. Clutching at the side of his head, he shut one eye and locked onto something up on the roof. Even from a distance in the dark, she could see his eyes widen. Before Rin could even ask what was wrong, there was a flurry of movements as Shirou scrambled to move, even Missy seemed to light up with surprise. Stunned by confusion, Rin could only gasp as a heavy pressure wave from an explosion struck her chest and obscured the boy entirely.

Flames, smoke and crackles of free mana particles expanded quickly to encompass the entire area, concealing everything within. Putting the pieces together far later than she should have, Archer certified his guilt with a calm, questioning _"did I hit him?"_ Rin couldn't even react properly. It was as if a breaker had shut off in her mind and it was waiting for someone to reset it. Had her servant just killed himself in cold blood? With a single shot, had he put an end to someone so close to her?

Reeling, the girl grew furious and thrust both hands into her hair. _"What do you think you're doing you, idiot? I never told you to shoot at him! God, you're even stupider than this Shirou and I didn't even think that was possible!"_

 _"I'm eliminating a high-risk master before they can become a problem."_ The servant paused, audibly growling through her head. _"But it looks like I missed."_

Still watching the smoke clear, Rin caught sight of two shifting figures within. Stirring from the ground was a coughing, pained Shirou who was in the midst of stumbling away from her home with Missy to assist. The woman was shooting Rin an accusing glare, saying something indecipherable. Shirou obviously understood it, as he shook his head violently.

 _"This next one should be enough,"_ Archer claimed, restarting Rin's mind.

The girl threw up her right hand and connected her magic circuits to the seals burned onto her skin. _"Don't you dare, I will use a command seal on you if I have to!"_

There was a lengthy pause, long enough for Rin to worry about whether or not Archer was going to go through with his plan regardless of her threat. As she was about to ask if he had spontaneously died, his voice returned. _"Fine, but you'll be squandering the greatest opportunity we have."_

Releasing an already exhausted sigh, Rin took a step outside and waved one hand to catch Shirou's attention as the boy divided his attention between looking over himself and looking for the attacker. "Are you alright, Emiya? I'm sorry but my servant is a little slow - mentally." The irony of subtly calling Shirou an idiot to his face without him even knowing wasn't lost on her, though her enjoyment was lessened due to her concern.

Waving his hand to waft away the smoke, Shirou stood and coughed into his hand. "No, no, it's fine. Attacking a defenceless master who just wants to talk is totally fair game, I get it," he claimed sarcastically. Coughing to clear his lungs a few more times, Shirou scanned the perimeter for further threats, rightfully on edge. "I take it your servant is Archer then?"

Rin twitched, both in anger at his sarcastic comment and because of his surprisingly on-point guess. She supposed that it wasn't really that difficult. What other servant class could fire explosive projectiles from seemingly nowhere? She couldn't be angry with that, she was angry with the fact that he now had more information than she did. Shirou knew what servant she summoned already while she still had no definite idea what servant _he_ had. Then again, Emiya was a simple, honest boy. She could toy with him to get the answer easily enough. "And you've summoned Saber, isn't that right?" Relying on Archer's possibly incorrect information, Rin made a gamble.

The boy didn't make a blatant face of shock, but the subtle tensing of his body and sharpening in his eyes revealed more than she could have hoped. "How did you know that?"

"Interesting decision not to decline, but admit guilt through a question," Rin pointed out, smiling at his simple mistake. Even after the struggles and rigorous training he had no doubt gone through, Shirou was still as easy to coerce and interrogate as ever. The boy simply couldn't lie - at least not with his face showing.

"Tohsaka you _know_ I can't lie, so even if I did I wouldn't be able to get away with it," he complained, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rin found herself smirking. She hadn't spoken to Shirou in some time and had nearly forgotten how enjoyable it was. "As for how I knew you summoned Saber, well," she paused to flick one of her twintails with the back of her hand teasingly. "Just call it my woman's intuition." As soon as Rin began to enjoy their interaction, she reminded herself of what they were involved in and the smile immediately soured.

Shirou hardly seemed to notice, still occupied with looking himself over to make sure he wasn't missing parts. "Since that's how your servant reacted, I don't think it's a good idea for us to team up. So why not just a ceasefire then? We won't have to protect one another but we don't have to attack each other either. Neutral parties to each other."

Looking at the small crater that used to be her walkway, Rin contemplated her decision. On one hand, Shirou was a powerful ally and he was practically throwing himself at her to act as her partner. On the other, her servant, the narcissist, had already reacted so violently to himself. Who was she to say he wouldn't try killing him again at some point, a point where she wouldn't be there to stop him?

Rin's heart fell. As much and as often as she called the boy an idiot, he was far from it in reality. Shirou had come here for a specific reason otherwise he wouldn't have been so desperate for an ally. Had he witnessed a master or servant that demanded teamwork with others? What if he moved on to ask another master and left her behind? There was a chance he would ask Sakura and then her sister would win their little battle over him with ease. While they agreed to share, they still fought for the majority of his attention. At least, they had been, before the Grail War reared its ugly head. Scowling deeply, she reconnected with Archer. _"Damn you, you big idiot. Even if I wanted to partner up with Shirou you've ruined my chance. There's no way he will agree when he thinks you're trying to kill him!"_

She didn't get a response but hoped he felt bad regardless. "A cease-fire will work fine," she sighed. "If I figure out what you mean about the War, I'll come talk to you, alright?"

Rin was left speechless as the boy nodded and expressed a polite farewell before vanishing into the night. Going over the events once more in her mind, she concluded who the real idiot was: herself. Why hadn't she specifically told Archer not to attack once she realized who it was? Why did she _not_ jump at the chance to work beside him?

Groaning loudly and sinking into a compact squat, the Tohsaka lowered her head and gripped at the sides tightly. "Why does everything have to go so wrong? I summon my own boyfriend as a servant and I have to fight my real boyfriend to the death in a magical war."

"I'm right here you know," the servant commented, eliciting another sorrowful noise from the girl.

"Good, I wanted you to hear it anyway," she huffed.

Archer made a soft sigh, holding his tongue while Rin silently condemned herself for being foolish. "I must admit, I am rather concerned. During my War, Saber followed me around like a lost dog. She was unable to enter spirit form, so she had to. So even if this Shirou has summoned a different person, where are they hiding?"

Grumbling, the girl tried to decide on her next move. She could go after him and form an alliance, she could send Archer out to finish the job he started or she could do something much simpler. Lifting her head from between her knees, the girl produced an order. "I want you to watch over him from a distance, can you handle that?"

"An interesting decision, master. I'll leave right now." Before the servant could dematerialize, Rin stood, turned and shouted at him to hold his attention.

"I'm limiting your mana draw and I'll be watching to make sure you don't project anything." Pointing an ominous finger at his face, the girl sharpened her eyes. "If you even try I'll use a command seal so fast-"

The servant lifted up both hands. "I understand. You want me to be a totally neutral observer. If I die because I'm unable to defend myself though, that's your fault."

"If you die I'll take full responsibility. And if you want to avoid that, just don't let any of the other servants see you," the girl claimed.

… … …

A bolt of lightning was slow in comparison to how fast Shirou's mind was working. There had been so much data, so much information. He should have died to that blade, but something had warned of his incoming doom in advance. It was mysterious and ephemeral, a vision of sorts that was equal parts familiar and entirely foreign.

That was nothing compared to the blade itself, which had been the cause of such unexpected and careless destruction. It was a blade made entirely of mana. Considering Saber's blade was also made entirely out of mana, that wasn't the strangest thing to hear, but the _configuration_ and design were identical to his own. It had been a sword projectile, but it was a sword _designed_ to be fired from a bow just like an arrow, precisely like Shirou had experimented with. The configuration even matched some of the weapons he had used. The differences between a mana-based weapon like Saber's and his own projections were comparable to the differences between cubic zirconia and genuine diamonds. While they appeared identical, the atomic structural makeup couldn't be any more different and a master of structural grasping like himself could see that as plain as day.

There was only one person Shirou knew that could create weapons with that sort of makeup: himself. Though, was he really the only person who could create something like that? Perhaps there were others or historical legends who had a similar process that was leagues beyond his own - that would explain the peculiar homing feature it had at least.

Considering the weapon brought his focus to the impact it left behind. Shirou didn't like to gloat, but his response to the threat had been commendable as well. Rather than try to block the attack directly, he merely projected whatever popped into his mind to move the sword off course. It had worked, albeit barely. Unlike normal projectiles, that one had curved in mid-air just like a homing missile. Perhaps it was the servant's ability? Or another ability among many?

A loud, feminine shout of his name finally broke his involved rumination. Abruptly stopping his halt and turning to face the sound, he spotted Missy - or what appeared to be Missy at least - staring at him in disbelief. "Shirou, why did you forbid me from returning the attack? I had a clear visual. If you had only projected a bow I could have-"

Shaking his head indignantly, Shirou raised a hand to his forehead. He had contracted an incredible migraine after leaving the Tohsaka manor and he hadn't the faintest idea as to why. "No, I meant everything I said. I don't want to attack Rin if I don't have to, she and Sakura are my," he paused, considering how to word it without coming off as too attached. "Rin is a good friend," was what he settled on.

Hearing the servant's manner of speaking in Missy's voice was unnerving, the formal and dignified speech from a woman known to be educated and quiet was a subtle but glaring contrast. "Even after narrowly escaping death, you choose to brush it off and settle with peace. An admirable quality to be sure."

Hissing in pain as the headache grew worse, Shirou threw one last look toward the Tohsaka manor. "I'd just prefer if we could make it out of this without fighting anyone at all. I know it won't be possible, but I can dream and hope - can't I?"

Twisting to search for Saber in the designated meeting spot, he was unable to see the concern on Lancer's disguised features but his voice showcased it well enough. "Are you feeling alright? While I haven't known you for all that long, you don't seem like yourself."

Walking forward as he shut his eyes, Shirou pressed one hand against the side of his head. "I'm fine, I'm just-" he paused, uncertain of what he was feeling. He was being bombarded with questions at every turn and the uncertainty was getting to him. "I'm just a little stressed."

Opening his eyes to focus on his path, he caught sight of Saber sprinting into view from around the corner. As her eyes landed on him, her eyes lit up and she immediately began relaying new information. "Shirou, you returned just in time. An incredible amount of magical energy is being released to the east."

"Is it a servant?" Shirou asked first while Saber approached.

Within normal speaking distance, the woman stared valiantly into his eyes. The shade of green was so intense in the low light that it was actually causing him pain from the migraine. "It's entirely possible. During my first War, a servant did something similar in order to challenge others to a battle. It was the first component to the five-servant battle I spoke of some time earlier. That being said, it's equally possible that two servants have engaged in battle to produce the effect."

"To the east?" Humming in slight pain, Shirou rapidly considered the direction. "Just across the Mion River or far away?"

Saber's eyes twitched partly before she answered. "Just a short distance, though it's hard to triangulate with precision." Pulling up a mental map of the area, Shirou came to a single conclusion that made him stiffen on the spot: Luvia's house was in that direction. Was she a master as well? It was possible since she _was_ a magus and she had been in Fuyuki. She even had a strong desire that the Grail could have taken into account.

If Luvia was a master, there was a strong chance that the mana signature Saber detected was a sign she was under attack. While her goal was to kill his father, the Magus Killer, they had still been friends in another life, that had to mean something. Maybe if he explained his reasoning and why her goal was so foolish, she would drop it altogether. Trying to keep everyone alive in a battle to the death was already getting exhausting and his migraine wasn't helping the situation. At the very least, it was gradually fading. "How fast can we get over there?"

There was a wild glint which formed immediately in Saber's eyes and the beginning of an unsettling, overjoyed grin blossomed on her face. The woman reached into the breast pocket of her suit, withdrawing a single key that glimmered in the soft moonlight. "That depends entirely on how tightly you can hold on."

A pit formed in Shirou's stomach, every instinct declaring that whatever the knight had planned was dangerous if not outright deadly. Although, with no time to debate other options, what choice did he really have?

… … …

… … …

Of all the women in his life to meet head-on, it had to be _her_. It couldn't have been Fergus mac Róich, Cú Roí, Ferdiad, Lóch mac Mofemis, The Morrígan or even one of his sons.

It had to be _her_ , the foulest existence he had ever known. She had kept him at close range for the past few minutes, but after a stumble on her end, he had a chance to break away. Lifting his staff high, a wall of rock formed between the two and an effeminate squeak sounded from the opposite side. Leaping backward, the man thrust the same staff forward, shattering the wall with a blast of concentrated air to shower his target in rocks of varying sizes.

Slamming his staff on the ground while leaping upward, he was launched dozens of meters into the sky. From there he panned one hand across his front, forming several glowing runic sigils in the air in an ominous red. Shortly after forming, each rune turned into a fireball that shot forward at an incredible speed. For good measure, the man formed another barrage by moving his hand back to where it had started. As each fireball impacted the ground, a huge blast decimated the land below and concealed the area with smoke.

It seemed that his miserable luck followed him beyond the grave, as he wasn't even summoned in his true class. Being part of such a pitiable, lowdown class was just another dagger in his back.

Landing on the ground with a soft thud, the servant swirled his elongated wooden staff around his front before tapping it on the ground. "I told you then and I'll tell you now. All the drink in the world wouldn't be enough to make me even _consider_ bedding you."

Even though smoke and dust clouded his vision, he could see the mana radiating from his mortal enemy just fine. She was alive for sure, though it wasn't as if he had expected those meager fireballs to kill her anyway.

There was a bright, cheerful giggle from within, a noise which simultaneously sickened and haunted him. "Oh my precious hound, stop being so dramatic. Whether you know it or not, you've already submitted yourself to my undying love the moment you first declined."

Grimacing, the man slashed his staff horizontally, blowing away the smoke with a gust of wind. There were dozens of large craters spread out over a considerable area. Small streams of smoke were beginning at the edges of these craters, where the heat had singed once-green grass. Standing in the middle of the devastation on the only untouched piece of earth was a truly twisted existence. While her appearance was equal to that of a goddess, the woman inside was more akin to the devil himself.

A meagre five-foot-two and a near-emaciated ninety pounds, she was light enough for him to throw like a baseball. Those proportions worked rather well for her outfit at the very least. For how tempting and alluring it was, it was surprisingly modest, concealing everything from the upper mid-thigh to the shoulder. The curve-hugging rose-pink ensemble was incredibly intricate, with several thin layers that beautifully tied together. Thin chiffon, flowing silk and transparent hardened feather-like segments around the skirting offered an almost angelic appearance. The entire outfit seemed to maintain a pristine sparkle as if it were finely coated in gemstone dust. Covering her hands to the elbow were incredibly fine gloves which featured the only contrasting portion of her attire, a frilly black portion which extended beyond her elbow. There was a single piece of metal on her entire body, a snug silver collar around her shapely neck.

The head above the aforementioned collar was something else entirely. It would be more fitting to see atop an immaculate statue made of the finest stone than on a living woman. Velvety smooth, blemish-free ivory skin with a soft, permanent rosen blush. Bright, joyous amber eyes that resonated with a fierce inner fire. Sharp but simple features set in permanent enjoyment with a wide, welcoming smile complemented by soft dimples. Atop her head was an ice-like tiara with peculiar spikes. It served to divide her incredibly long pink hair, keeping two thin strands to frame her face while the rest fell down her back.

With a soft flick of the wrist, the riding crop in her hand made a sharp snap against her own arm. Ominously, the striking end seemed to take on a reddish aura. "Just be a good boy and bow down to your supreme queen," the girl cooed, swaying her hips alluringly.

With the sourest expression he could manage, the caster turned to one side, extending his staff to point at the woman directly. "If you expect me to do that, you're even more clueless than I remember."

Pulling both hands to her chest, the woman turned her shoulder to him and pouted heavily. "I don't remember my dog ever having so much bite."

Snarling, the man formed a rune four times as large as the others at the end of his staff. "Come a little closer and you'll remember it much more vividly." Funnelling mana into his attack, the man watched his enemy cautiously. He had created this rune under the assumption that she would advance. Rather than a raw fireball that he had used earlier, this attack was a blistering gout of flame. It couldn't be dodged, but the range limited its effectiveness.

Unexpectedly, the girl continued holding her saddened pout for a few tense seconds. Wondering whether the last scraps of her brain had dribbled out her ears, he was surprised when she looked up at him with an equally as saddened grin. "Unfortunately I can't keep toying with you, my adorable dog. Your master seems to be more than they can handle."

Dispelling the rune, the man lowered his staff so it could rest back at his side while he looked off into the distance. "Hopefully your master has to retreat and we can stop this battle, I'm still not in the mood to even look at you."

"So you _do_ want to look at me _sometimes_?" Snapping his head to look back at her with emboldened rage, the woman's newfound manic smile rapidly shifted to unmistakeable worry. "Scary hound," she murmured as her body faded away into a cloud of snowflakes.

Lowering his head once he was gone, the man released a lengthy sigh. It couldn't have been anyone else, anyone at all. Following the line of mana that led back to his master, he informed her of the situation. Assuming they were in combat, he left his message brief. " _You've got company on the way. Could have, but don't want to stop her, will tell you later over a beer."_

Staring up at the darkened sky, the man took a great inhale of hot smouldering air, catching a whiff of identifiable perfume that ruined his entire mood once more. " _A few more seconds is all this should take,"_ a confident woman's voice returned to him, coming across as strained. That brought a small smirk to his face. If she had nearly wrapped things up already then she had to be at least _half_ as good as she claimed.

Deciding to start walking back, the servant moved his staff to settle over his shoulders. With his front-facing a new direction, he became aware of a distant noise. It was a continous growling, barking noise which grew louder with each passing moment. In the middle of considering what it might be, he was interrupted by his master's voice once again. _"Caster, I hope you only knew about the one servant because if you knew about all three I'm going to kick your ass. Get the hell over here, now!"_

Twitching at the panicked about, Caster rapidly shifted his body to spirit form and took flight across the landscape toward his master. Three servants, add him and that made four. It seemed like his bait had worked a little _too_ well. At the very least, tonight would be far from uneventful.

… … …

Holding on for dear life was an understatement. Saber decided that the best way to get across Fuyuki was by vehicle, a motorbike to be specific. Lancer wholeheartedly agreed though that was likely because he had his _own_ bike and didn't have to ride as a passenger. Together, the two servants sped through the streets of Fuyuki like demons straight from the pits of Hell. Shirou had wanted to get there as soon as they could, but he also wanted to arrive _alive_ as well, a memo Saber seemingly missed.

The bike itself was something Shirou had never seen before, but it was supposedly gifted by Kiritsugu shortly after their summoning. It didn't take the boy more than a glance to realize that significant modifications had been performed from the ground up. Performance semi-slick tires, updated front and rear disc brakes. It even had an updated suspension to make the bike much stiffer for greater handling. All of the handling upgrades worked in tandem with a brand new engine featuring forged internals all with the goal of maximizing performance and preserving durability. That durability was also much needed, considering a forty-shot nitrous kit had also been installed.

While Saber hadn't used it - so she claimed - Shirou couldn't honestly tell sitting on the back. What would have normally taken thirty minutes at a leisurely, law-abiding pace, had hardly taken five. Dismounting from the mechanical beast, Shirou thanked whatever deity had smiled on him long enough to survive the trip. It took him a few seconds to take in the situation and begin his evaluation.

The destruction of the landscape was incredible. Most of the grass surrounding the manor and a path leading away was vacant, replaced with miniature craters holding fresh, upturned dirt. The grass which did remain was coated in a fine layer of dirt, with the occasional clump clearly sticking out above the blades. The edges of the craters were singed, with some still smouldering to produce a thick, burning scent that purveyed the entire area.

Tightening the gloves upon her hands, Saber viewed the scene and made her own deduction. "So a battle between two servants then." Extending her hand, an invisible sword formed within her grasp.

Lancer, still acting as Missy, contributed his own opinion. "The path of destruction leads away from the house, perhaps one servant drew the other away?"

Narrowing his eyes, the boy took note of the silence. "But where are they now?" Shirou asked, walking toward the manor.

As if on cue, a blur violently exploded from the second-floor window. Glass sprayed from the outside in and within seconds, a dark blob of _something_ collided with the ground.

Running forward on autopilot, Saber shouted for him to wait but he had already committed to his idea. Activating his tracing, two blades formed within his grasp and a third struck the ground behind him. It was a copy of the weapon Lancer had asked for during their spar, just in case the servant also needed a weapon.

Within the first few steps forward, the fallen blob shifted until it stood upright in a twisted, humanoid form. It was easily the height of two men and at least six feet wide. Humanoid in shape only, the being was top-heavy with an oblong, gaudy shape that made it hard to differentiate where the shoulders, neck and head actually were. Arms just seemed to sprout from the sides, large tree-sized appendages that ended in rounded nubs. The legs were similar, but the feet were wide stump-like bases, likely for stability.

Tracing active, Shirou determined that it was a being made entirely of mana, of _ether_. It was familiar, but in a new style the boy had never witnessed - still, it was easily recognizable to him as one of Lectra's creations. The creature's existence meant that she was alive at the very least, which was a weight off his shoulders. She was a sweet girl and he would consider them friends had he not betrayed her trust and lied to her face for months.

Breaking his reflection, Shirou realized there was a person fighting the ether monster, someone unmistakable. His mind hit a sudden wall, but the pieces fell into place quickly. "Bazett?" he shouted questioningly. Immediately, the woman in question snapped her head back in surprise, locking eyes with him for a moment as they both recognized what was going on.

The recognition didn't last as long as the enforcer returned to her main priority, the ether monster. The creature had launched a surprisingly fast overhead swing, which the enforcer halted with a cross-arm guard. With a loud grunt, the enforcer bent at the knees and pushed her entire body upward, throwing the monster stumbling backward. With a left hook, the woman cleaved the creature's entire left leg in two, sending it careening onto its side.

Off-balance and far from centered, the ether construct fell onto its back with a ground-quaking noise. Not wasting a moment, the enforcer hefted one foot high in the air. Flames suddenly ignited at her heel and as it crashed down to the earth, a blast of flame razing the entire ether construct, rendering it down into nothing more than a fine powder.

With one threat finished, Bazett twisted on her heels to face Shirou directly, eyes flickering to watch those approaching at his side. The two remained silent, unable to work out what to say. After a period of painful silence, the older woman spoke first. "So you here to kill me, kid?" Nodding her head upward, he remembered the blades in his hands. So much was racing through his mind. This was his first momentous decision in the Grail War and it was unlikely to get any easier. In order to protect one of his friends, he would need to sacrifice another, but who was he to choose?

His head drifted downward. He had known a time like this would come, but why did it have to come so soon? What use was all of the training and planning if he couldn't bring himself to actually commit to them? "I-"

His name was shouted, and it was enough to snap his head upright. Bazett had shot forward into range, with one fist reared back to lash out. She was too close for him to block and much too quick for him to consider trying. Trying to save himself how he could, Shirou twisted his body backward, trying to make what distance he could and reduce the incoming impact. During their training years ago, a strike like that would have been enough to disable him for the entire day. At full strength, it was entirely possible that it would destroy his organs.

Shutting his eyes and grimacing in preparation for the pain, he was surprised when none arrived, but a loud clang echoed throughout the night. Hands wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him stabilized before just as quickly departing. Re-opening his eyes, the explanation revealed itself.

With the spare sword he had projected, Missy had intercepted the attack by placing the flat of the blade in the woman's striking path. Standing tall, the disguised servant glared ominously at the enforcer, who held a peculiar expression as she looked at her knuckles. Opening her mouth to speak, Lancer let the facade fade away. Missy's body was shrouded in a fleeting cloud of inky black, revealing a fully armour-clad knight in its wake.

From his position, Shirou could watch all seven stages of grief wash across Bazett's face in a second. "Two servants," she murmured, tightening her body. "You wouldn't consider that last attack an accident, would you?"

Lifting the ivory and gold weapon from the ground, Lancer snapped into a combat-ready stance. "Just like the barbarian to surrender at the first sign of resistance."

Striding past Shirou, Saber donned her own kingly armour before standing beside her own knight. With a heavy clank, the invisible weapon in her grasp mirrored her comrades' stance. "If you wish to engage in combat, bring forth your servant, but we will not allow you to harm our master."

Shirou's mind was at the tail end of restarting and as the process completed, his body snapped into a combat-ready position. He had considered working with Bazett but now deemed it impossible. The woman was a proud enforcer who took little attitude, even from a man as notorious as the Magus Killer. While she would have been a powerful ally, she would have never swallowed her pride or bought into the secret facts he held on the War.

Positioning himself behind and between the two servants, he stared into Bazett's eyes and the two found respect over the newborn battlefield.

Before the tension grew disturbing, a voice rang out through the night. It was sweet enough to give cavities and rather than from a single source, the sound blanketed the area from every direction simultaneously. "Will any servant do?"

Over Bazett's shoulder, Shirou clocked the formation of a servant and was immediately floored. It was an impossibly beautiful woman that demanded his eye's attention. He couldn't explain it, but it was a beauty that felt undeniably forced or fake. It was likely a result of magecraft, unlike Saber who naturally pulled something similar off.

In the middle, Bazett caught on to where everyone else was watching and looked over her shoulder to spot the new enemy herself. "Trapped between two servants and a whore, how fun." With a speedy leap to the side, the woman put everyone nearby toward her front, keeping her back protected.

"By that response, I take it that the woman behind you is _not_ your servant." Making a gesture with her blade, Saber pointed the invisible tip toward the woman in question.

Lancer let down his guard somewhat and turned his head to keep one eye on the new servant and his king. "I could tell in our spar that you've been itching for a fight, so I believe I'll offer you the honour of duelling this servant first, my liege."

The servant of pink tilted her head. "A duel, _my liege?_ While your beauty pales in comparison to mine, you would make a much better _queen_ than a king." Shirou didn't even have to see Saber's face to know her eye twitched at the comment. Shirou had made the unfortunate decision of making a similar comment and it had thoroughly annoyed the servant.

"Mind your tongue. There is no reason for this engagement to become a trial of insults."

The pink servant giggled softly. "I apologize if it seems I insulted you, I merely express the truth for there is no woman of past, present or future who can compare to my beauty."

Parting his attention from the coming battle, Shirou turned to face Bazett, who was being held at a safe distance by Lancer's watchful eye. Like always, she was wearing her burgundy leather gloves. Because of that, he couldn't tell for certain whether she was a master or not. He opened his mouth to speak but the woman started before him. "So why haven't you killed me?"

Blinking, Shirou was momentarily distracted by the sound of battle. "Is that what you want me to do? Nobody has to-"

"Six servants need to die and it's usually easier to kill the master than the servant." Facing him, the woman narrowed her eyes. "So, what are you waiting for?"

The boy was silent, considering the implications. "This would all work better if-"

The woman cut him off sharply, maintaining that accusative glare only she could pull off. "Remember what I told you: Don't stop fighting until your enemy is dead."

Like an alarm bell going off on his head, every sense told him that something was wrong. Reinforcing his body, he called up another stage of defence in his mind, shields. With several imagined in his mind, the boy started projecting them around his body like a steel tomb. But it was likely too late. Already, a wave of heat lashed out at his back and it grew hotter with each passing moment. Shutting his eyes and tucking his head down toward his chest, the best he could hope for was to survive whatever was about to strike.

… … …

… … …

Stumbling over a patch of broken concrete, Lectra felt herself being yanked into step by the hand. Panting, the woman asked if they could slow down but Luvia was resolute. The shorter of the two gripped at her chest to try and calm a sudden stabbing pain. Creating so many fortified ether constructs had drained her entirely. It had taken every ounce of mana she had to keep that enforcer at bay and it had only been enough because they were further bolstered by Luvia's gems. "That enforcer's taken out the last of my constructs."

"That's fine, it held on long enough for us to get away so good job." Pausing to take a large breath, Luvia continued speaking. "Did you see through the window? Shirou arrived with two more of those people. That makes four in total, so it's good we made an escape while we could before everything started exploding - more than it already had been anyway." Rounding a corner, Luvia continued tugging on her hand like she was an ignorant mutt, leading her further away without regard for her condition. While the Edelfelt had taken a beating of her own, she could have been slightly more considerate.

Gasping for air, Lectra bared her teeth and focused on moving her painfully sore legs forward. She hadn't felt this much pain since she used that weird jewelry during her last battle in the previous year's Magus Tournament. At least then her body had been kind enough to let her pass out.

Rounding another corner, Lectra caught her foot on the edge, sending the rest of her body sprawling onto the ground as her hand slipped from Luvia's. Lectra lifted her head but her vision was blurred and the colours were extremely washed out. Even her hearing had faded away as Luvia's speech sounded like they were both underwater.

Struggling to her feet, Lectra used the wall and her friend for balance. She subconsciously recognized that an arm had slipped beneath one arm to wrap around her body. Gradually, the blurred images within her eyes righted themselves, becoming complete within a dozen seconds. When Lectra returned to herself, they were in an entirely new area, heading down a dimly lit alley with a street lamp illuminating the other end of the street at its exit. "Just a little bit more, stick with me, alright? I bought a little place just down the street for situations like this."

Panting out an agreement, Lectra struggled to keep her legs moving so she wouldn't be dead weight. Without having to support her own mass, the task was much easier. A dozen feet from the end, a dark red shape moved into position and Lectra struggled to focus on what it was.

"Shirou?"

It was a question both girls asked at the same moment as they looked upon the boy standing ominously ahead of them. Even with her pain-distorted vision, she could see him twitch in the low light. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Luvia decided to continue. "Why are you wearing that weird get-up?"

Looking down at himself, he cleared his throat and responded in a rather raspy tone. "I thought it looked kind of cool."

Lectra wanted to say that it was the sort of outfit someone trying to hard for a fantasy roleplay would wear but she couldn't summon the energy. She wanted to be friends. Even if he was Blade, even if he had lied to her and hurt her in ways he couldn't even understand, all she really wanted was her friend back - the boy who had treated her so kindly when nobody else would, the boy who led her to so many new friends and even opened up the chance for her to have an actual relationship.

Her heart ached because of him, but it also hurt due to the _lack_ of him. Lectra hadn't realized that an abnormally long amount of time had passed since anyone last spoke. Luvia decided to take charge again. "Well, I think this is the most awkward situation I've ever been in." Shrugging Lectra up tighter against her own body, Luvia continued. "Lectra is hurt so can we just get by this once? What are you doing here anyway?"

The boy shuffled in place and crossed both arms over his chest. "To be honest, I've recently taken up a trade as a vigilante. You just happened to be down one of the alleys I was checking on this night's run."

Lectra tried to keep her eyes open, but a looming sense of fatigue seemed to be creeping across her entire body. She was leaning more and more into the arms of her friend and safety seemed ever more distant. "I guess that would explain the ridiculous outfit, though won't people recognize your face?" Lectra had known Luvia _just_ long enough to know where she was going with the comment and panic bloomed in her slow mind. "So where's your scarf?"

It was a question that Lectra would have preferred to ask at any other time. Right now, they were both wounded and the last thing they needed to do was piss _Blade_ off. If anything, they needed his help to survive whatever was going on. "I think I left it at home. Do I often wear a scarf?" It wasn't the response Lectra had expected at all. Was her relief greater than her sense of worry?

Luvia made a haughty noise. "Even when you're caught you keep lying. We know you want to kill us but I know you like Lectra." Even halfway to passing out, the comment made Lectra herself embarrassed. "So as a favour for her, just let us go and we'll pay you back later alright?"

There was another long period of awkward silence. By the time Shirou responded, Lectra was allowing most of her body to be supported by her friend; unable to keep her own weight aloft with her two shaking legs. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't believe I've ever met that girl."

Lectra could almost hear Luvia rolling her eyes. "You were at the Clock Tower for a year, you two fought in the Magus Tournament together. What's the point in keeping up this lie if you've already been caught?"

The man laughed, a hollow bitter sound that was nothing like the Blade she knew. "I suppose you're right. Remind me, did I ever use some sort of forbidden magecraft during my time there?"

Luvia stiffened, an effect felt by Lectra, obviously. "You have access to something like that?" was what she murmured and it seemed to be an answer for him.

"Never mind, I wouldn't worry about it too much. We both seem to be in a hurry." The man took one step out of view but held himself back abruptly. "If you can remember, the next time we talk you should slap me across the face. That might jar my memory into place, alright?" Without allowing for another word in, the boy left with obvious haste, leaving questions in his absence.

With a shuffle, Luvia tugged her friend up onto her shoulder for better grip, continuing forward to their hideout. "He didn't seem like himself, did he? It almost sounded like he was putting on a voice too."

Lectra couldn't be bothered to comb over the conversation. Her greatest wish at that moment was a nice bath and a warm bed. "Just get us somewhere safe."

… … …

… … …

Illya bit at the tip of her thumb, staring ardently at her knees. While it had only served to worry her more, she had been watching through Lancer's eyes for much of the entire day. She had only grown concerned now when she watched in real-time as Shirou took an attack from a servant directly. He managed to come out _alright -_ alive at the least - but the charred skin on his back and pained expression on his face did little to calm her down.

"How are you doing, princess?" a voice asked, snapping her from Lancer's vision. Her father had moved beside her, bringing forth a cup of cheap pudding as an offering.

They were in the ruins of the Einzbern Castle, the place that would have been her home eventually had her father not rescued her. She knew that, but couldn't quite explain _how_ she knew it. It was similar to how she could understand the process of summoning a servant and what to do during a Grail War. The knowledge was there, but its origin was mysterious.

Wrapping a hand around the pudding, Illya gently tore off the top to reveal the chocolatey substance within. Calmly, her father leaned over to deposit a plastic spoon in her cup. "I know this isn't the best place, but it's the safest. Unknown, far from the battlefield," he paused to consider more benefits.

"Away from Shirou," Illya added for him, grasping the spoon and collecting a scoop of pudding. She was seated in a stone nook which rested before a window. It was more than deep enough for her to sit comfortably and just wide enough for her legs to fit within while being bent partly, even with her short height.

"Shirou can handle himself," the man quickly pointed out, settling onto the edge of a queen-sized western bed a few steps away. After arriving, Missy and Kiritsugu had selected three rooms in close proximity to one another. They were all identical in layout, design and furnishing but Illya's was the cleanest, spared by pests and destruction. "I know you want to help, but this is the only way you'll be safe."

Illya was silent for a while as she carefully cleaned the pudding cup, trying to distance her mind from the battle she knew was still going on. "Did you stay here with Mommy during the last War?" she asked eventually.

Her father made an audible inhale. "We did, yes. It was the site of a banquet for the servants in fact, though that had likely been a major contributor to its current state."

Illya's voice went soft and she turned her head to peer out of the window into the dimly lit forest surrounding them. "Did she die here?"

"No," the man replied immediately, voice equally as cold and distant. "If you want to know, I can tell you how and where."

Illya shook her head and tucked both knees up to her chin. "I think it's better if I didn't know." Agreeing with silence, her father remained in the room for some time before he eventually stood and departed. "Tomorrow you can help Missy and I clear the central courtyard. Engel Note would prove quite useful in trimming the grass."

Nodding silently, Illya returned to looking toward her feet while her father quietly left the room. Connecting with Lancer again, Illya saw an entirely new sight, as expected. It felt wrong to eavesdrop through the eyes of another like this, but it was the best she could do to keep herself from running to Shirou's side. As much as he wanted to protect her, she wanted to protect him as well. If he got hurt, who else would be there to heal him?

Replacing the tip of her thumb between her teeth, Illya carefully examined the battlefield, worrying about Shirou for each moment that passed.

… … …

Clenching at her heart, the woman doubled over in pain. "You can't- you'll kill them all-" she gasped, extending another hand toward the servant standing in the doorway.

The servant turned to face his master, pulsing crimson sword illuminating the area in a demonic glow. "Precisely. That is the ultimate goal of every master and servant pair, is it not? I shouldn't be too long. Once I'm finished, we will only have two more servants and masters to defeat, wherever they might be hiding."

"You'll kill the masters-" the girl strained, resting her weight upon a nearby piece of wooden furniture.

"The easiest way to eliminate the servant, correct. There's no reason for you to worry, handling four servants is entirely within my ability." Tilting his neck to each side resulted in visceral cracking noises. "In fact, it should be quite easy."

The woman stood on shaking legs, finding her energy slowly. It had been a mistake trying to tell him no. To keep her from standing in his way, he had shifted his draw from himself back to her and her pitiable reserves couldn't maintain such a powerhouse. Something like that really should have been expected, considering she wasn't a real magus. "You can't, please," she pleaded one last time, hoping the inhuman servant would heel.

Resting one hand softly on his own chest, the man bowed his upper half deeply. "Place your trust in me, master. You can consider both servants and masters as good as dead, I will find victory for you in this War." The servant turned to leave but a sudden bright flash of red light sent him stumbling into place. Like he was halfway through freezing, the man made jarring, shaky motions to turn back toward his master. "A command seal," he murmured, shouldering the weapon in his hand. "An interesting decision, master."

"I won't let you- you can't kill my friend," she begged. A second flash of crimson pulsed through the room, her last hope given light. One wouldn't be enough to stop a servant like this, she had to use two, but even then-

The servant made a hollow noise. "A valiant attempt, but ultimately a pitiful failure." As if her binding had no effect, the servant carried on with his path outside, unabated in the slightest. Such an act left his master gaping, appalled at what had transpired. Clutching at her pained chest, the girl extended a hand toward the open door, hoping, praying that her servant would return.

She knew he wouldn't, but there was nothing else she could do. The command seal had been her last hope and even two had done absolutely nothing. The servant was a monster, and not even two command seals would act as an appropriate leash.

… … …

He awoke with a pained gasp, reeling for air but finding nothing but hot smoke. Standing upright from his position laid out upon the ground was a mistake, as seething pain coursed across his entire back. Hissing loudly, Shirou desperately tried to gather his bearings. Everything was on fire, the world around him was a hellscape of smoke, embers and wartorn craters. It was harrowing, but far from the worst thing he had witnessed.

"Shirou, it is good to see you back on your feet," a man murmured. "You're just in time to experience the calm before the storm."

Blinking, the boy groggily comprehended the servant's meaning. Like three points of a triangle, groups of servants and masters looked upon one another with varying emotions, not just hostility and apprehension. The pink servant, standing alone was still overjoyed and entirely unharmed. How someone without any detectable means of defence has managed to remain unblemished was absolutely baffling to Shirou.

There was a new servant on the field now, a man. A touch over six feet, and a touch under one-hundred-fifty pounds, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair, a uniform azure, was the most contributing factor to this irregularity. It was straight, short on the sides and long at the top and back, spiked outward from the top of his head with long trailing tails going down his back to make their appearance again at the base of his spine. Being honest, Shirou thought he had a rather homeless look about him. While his clothes weren't dirty or too distressed, they were incredibly airy, loose and thin. A translucent garment covered his abdomen from the pectorals to the hips, with a furry hooded shawl resting comfortably along his arms. A segment of heavier white fabric spanned his hips, keeping his rear and sides concealed while being belted tight at the waist with a makeshift length of braided fabric. He wore a type an extended skirt that draped down over his shoeless feet. Of all the pieces of his outfit, the skirt was the most well crafted, with golden ribbons creating a pleasant Celtic design upon the face.

In his hand sat an equally as peculiar staff, with a thin tapered bottom beneath a gaudy, brick-like head that held a small circular silver charm at the far end. Beneath the head was a segment of gnarled, braided wooden branches that connected to a golden grip. It was likely a safe bet to call him Caster if his choice of weaponry was any indication.

The man's face was full of pride and confidence and something else entirely. He was an admittedly handsome man, with a chiselled face that also held boyish qualities. There was a soft glint that caught Shirou's eye, directing his gaze to the man's ears. Hanging from each lobe were small silver earrings, earrings identical to Bazett's. It was safe to say the servant originated from them, so the hero she summoned was somewhere around two thousand years old but that didn't help in determining his identity in the slightest.

Delving into his parameters as a servant, Shirou was rather unimpressed. B rank mana and phantasm had credit, but an abysmal E rank luck and D rank endurance weighed heavily against him, though it was somewhat expected by his appearance. Shirou was surprised to find a Caster-looking servant with C rank strength and agility, though with Bazett as a master, some of them had a chance to be skewed.

"Well then, this has come down to quite the standoff, hasn't it?" the man joked, glancing between the three other servants.

"A standoff would imply that either of the two other parties have a chance at victory," Saber quickly retorted, standing shoulder-to-shoulder ahead of her master once again.

"I agree, neither of you have any chance at defeating me," the pink servant declared, gazing seductively toward Caster.

There was a softened tsk from the magical servant. "Overconfidence is a slow and relentless killer. That being said, you, the two knightly types," he directed, nodding his head toward them as he spoke. "I don't usually ask for help in fights, but the lass over there is someone I really can't stand. What if we worked together to get rid of her before continuing our own little thing?"

By the look of shock on Bazett's face, Shirou could tell that the question had been made without running it by her first. "An interesting query. Perhaps after hearing that, our other friend might wish to propose the same thing against you," Lancer pointed out, a pained smile on his face.

Caster tossed the staff around in his hand ardently. "Don't take this the wrong way but you might be fighting for her side regardless of who you choose first."

"Hey, don't ruin the fun!" came an annoyed shout. "If you do, I'll tell everyone your true name!"

Barking like a dog, Caster shot back: "Then I'll just tell them yours!"

The pink servant wrapped both arms around herself, face warming as blood rushed to her cheeks. Shirou absently tuned out the woman and her deranged thoughts, focusing on himself and the creation of a line to Saber. _"How long was I unconscious?"_

The knight's voice returned to him immediately while her physical form hardly moved an inch. _"A few minutes at the most. Caster attacked while we were preoccupied and a battle erupted between us all. Lancer and I managed handily and the two separated as you see now. It was only because you created such a rapid defence that you are still alive."_

Alive, but not entirely well. His back had been destroyed by the attack and while the pain was high, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. After all, every night for the past year he had been creating circuits with his nerves. The pain was bound to dull eventually. Closing his eyes to find Avalon, he discovered the sheath diligently working away to regenerate the demolished flesh, though it was struggling to repair such thorough destruction. Saber spoke aloud then, bringing his attention back to reality. "You attack our master then wish for an alliance. Quite an underhanded move, but nothing unexpected from the weakest servant class."

Still scowling over his row, the servant brought his staff across both shoulders and gripped it tight on both sides. "You'll have to thank my master for that. I would have attacked her," he gestured with a nod toward the pink servant. "But orders are orders."

Lancer twirled the projected weapon in his hands around to stick into the ground, laying his hands upon the pommel to use it as a rest. "Before talk of working together, it would be best to understand who we were working with. As this is a game rooted in deception, a full formal greeting might be a bit much. However, nothing is stopping us from revealing our class names."

A heavy silence descended on the servants. "Don't everybody jump at once. If you require motivation, allow me to make the first step." Bumping a closed fist against his chest with a mighty clank, Lancer identified himself as such.

It was enough to get the other servants speaking. The man revealed himself to be the suspected Caster while the woman declared her role as Rider.

Saber identified herself last, moderately shocking the other two. "Two servants working together? That's so unfair, isn't that against the rules?" Rider complained, pouting heavily.

Caster shut his eyes softly, appearing rather complacent regardless of the bad news. "I thought you two were nothing more than an oddity - a servant divided in two. Looks like my guess was a little off."

"There's nothing against the rules with forming an alliance, or for a master to lead two separate servants for that matter," Saber defended righteously, getting a nod from her knight.

Keeping an eye on both servants, Shirou observed Rider with her head down moving her lips in a hushed tone. Immediately, Saber prepared her weapon and Lancer withdrew his own from the ground. _"Rider is using magecraft. I am unable to discern whether it is her noble phantasm."_

Sparing a glance at Caster to confirm if he noticed the same thing, Shirou was greeted by the sight of a particularly fearful man. "Depending on what that is..." he murmured, sharpening his crimson eyes heavily. The staff was removed from his shoulders and the bottom grounded at his front.

Rider finished speaking and looked up immediately with an unnatural forced smile. It was unlike her previous expression and carried with it something akin to worry. With an equally as forced laugh, the woman glanced between the two rival parties. "Unfortunately, your adorable queen must make a quick departure. As much as it would please me to collar my pet and make him mine, I would rather escape with my life to try again sometime." Bouncing on her feet toward Caster, the temptress offered a blown kiss before fading away into what looked like ice particles.

Caster growled like a wild dog but sent a cautious glance toward the two knights. "You know, I was a warrior once too." Nodding to himself as if he were met with disbelief, the man carried on. "It's why I can see that the only thing stopping you two from taking me directly was her, in case she decided to take us all out while we were exhausted. If that's your end goal I won't stop you, but I sure as hell won't go down without a fight," the servant menaced, sneering animalistically while pointing his staff in their direction. With the top of the staff's head leveled in their direction, Shirou felt a palpable amount of energy striking him indirectly. Unlike a normal spell, which impacted his senses in a much more visceral way, the energy from Caster's staff seemed to stir from around him in every direction, as if the air and earth were responding to his call.

Saber made a soft noise of derision. "A keen tactical observation for a sorce-" She hesitated, visibly twitching as if someone had snuck up behind and scared her. The abrupt end to her speech was jarring for two people in particular. Both Shirou and Lancer gave the king a strange look while she hesitantly panned about her surroundings. "Something's wrong," she mumbled, eyes alight with worry. "I've felt this before, though it was never quite as strong."

Watching his king with curiosity, Lancer seemed far less confident than he had previously. "Relying on your gut instinct has gotten us out of many trials in the past, I have no reason to doubt such a thing now."

Keeping her blade prepared for an assault from Caster, the knight peered around herself. "Whatever it is, we must decide now whether to run or stand and fight. I leave the decision up to you, master."

From behind, Shirou glanced between Caster and his own servant before finally staring at Bazett. The two exchanged words through their eyes and decided that a battle wasn't worth either of their time _yet_. "Caster, withdraw," the woman ordered, keeping her eyes glued to his.

"Saber, Lancer, let's get out of here," Shirou mimicked, nodding his head partly to the enforcer. This was merely the first night of the War. They were under no obligation to kill one another...yet.

All three servants seemed taken aback by the snap decision and one was particularly reluctant. Sighing heavily, the sorcerer dipped his head. "Just when I get the chance to really show my stuff against a powerful opponent, my master gets cold feet. Hopefully, the next time we meet, we can really enjoy ourselves - preferably without Rider of course."

Spinning the staff in his hand once more, the base met the ground and a sudden gale swept the two straight off their feet, propelling them like plastic bags out of sight with surprising control.

Alone, Saber turned to face her master directly. "Shirou, we must leave immediately. I will explain later when we are safe." Without waiting for him to make a decision, the king and her retainer made a hasty retreat toward their departed mounts.

Shirou was left to follow, keeping up while an odd sensation struck him. He felt like a third wheel, like some tag-along follower rather than an actual combatant in the War. Perhaps it was merely the surprise attack that had jarred him, but he felt entirely unnecessary and he didn't like it one bit.

Blinking, he autonomously clambered onto Saber's death machine, mind sending him warnings but for a new reason entirely. Beyond the feeling of uselessness, he subconsciously registered that they were being watched. Typically when he was met with such a feeling, his mind guided him to the perpetrator. This time, it was vague, like his mind determined that the watchful eyes were from every direction simultaneously.

In the midst of his confusion, the engine of the motorbike roared to life and Saber wasted little time in leaving the area.

... ... ...

"Interesting," a rasping voice claimed. "Very interesting. Five servants total, with two bonded to a single master."

"A peculiar thing," another eerily similar voice resounded from almost the same area.

"They seem disconnected, foreign. Two servants with their own masters working together under one," yet another chimed in.

"An agreeable conclusion."

"Eliminating the masters should be no trouble. They seem uncoordinated and undefended. Master of two was almost eliminated by another servant already."

"They weren't even trying to kill him either." There was a hollow laughing sound that rattled off the walls and echoed across the landscape. It was something heard in nightmares deep within the darkness, a haunting noise that settled within the ear and refused to leave.

The first voice spoke again, similarities with the other voices making differentiation nearly impossible. "Had we been able to join, our competition would have been quite reduced."

"Master wishes for us to remain hidden, so we abide," a voice provided.

"We agree, keeping watch from a distance."

"Can they support us all at our fullest?"

"Absolutely, possibly, unlikely," another voice rattled off inconsistent predictions.

"Then we act individually unless the situation deems additional support."

The laughter returned, hollow, inky and chilling. Several sets of burning blue eyes beamed out from their shadowed spot, peering down at the former battlefield as a lone servant, the aforementioned fifth, stepped into view.

A gnarled, sickly-looking digit protruded from the darkness, nearly of the same shade as the night itself. "There, as the doctor to the graveyard, the sinner as he enters hell."

"A straggler, a lone sheep among a band of wolves." More hollow laughter responded through the buildings, whispering nightmares to the sleeping within. "Are we the butchers or the wolves themselves?"

"Perhaps we should see. Master wished for no involvement with the other masters for now. One shall go, one of us who is worthy."

A shape shifted from the darkness, moving partly into the moonglow. "A knight to the dragon, I shall claim the hoard." There was a soft grunt as the being leapt from their perch, streaming across rooftops to their objective with righteous purpose.

"With weakness acknowledged, confidence is foolish," a voice deeper within intoned.

"To be confident with cluelessness is even greater foolishness," another supplied, garnering another round of sickly laughter.

"We shall see who has underestimated whom soon."

From within the darkness, flaming blue orbs examined everything through angry slits. The watchers, the planners, the insane, the wise. They had many names, but only one would fit them all. One by one, the orbs disappeared, fading into the darkness or blinking out of existence entirely.

Had they even existed in the first place?

… … …

The doors opened, and a servant stepped into the room. "I apologize master," they spoke immediately, but the sorrow ended at their voice. "I was unable to take out any of the other masters, I was too slow."

The woman let out a shaky sigh, sucking in a sharp breath as she leveled a glare at the servant. "I'm glad you were so slow. If you had gotten there in time, you would have-"

"Eliminated all enemy masters and servants, of course." Tilting his head to one side, the servant shouldered the ominous crimson blade. "Master, I am beginning to wonder if you desire victory or even the Grail at all."

"Of course I do," the woman shot back defensively, clapping both hands at her front. "But if you killed every master, I wouldn't be able to make my wish."

The servant was silent for a brief moment before they moved further into the room. "I see, so your wish is dependant on the livelihood of a particular master. If that is the case, I will have to adjust my tactics so that I do not harm them directly."

Hope gleaned in the master's eyes. "So you won't kill that one master if I tell you?"

"Possibly," the servant claimed, doing nothing to satisfy their master. "You interrupted my briefing, master. While I was too late to attack any masters, a servant approached as I was leaving and challenged me to a duel of sorts."

"Isn't that an important detail to miss?"

"The servant died within seconds. They were a pitiful existence which underestimated my strength and paid for their mistake."

The woman blinked, surprise holding back her voice as she digested the information. "But I-"

Her servant carried on with his own thoughts, seating himself to take a minor rest. "Five more servants to go. As I have said: Even combined, the might of all servants summoned is unlikely to match my ability, though we shall see how correct my estimation is in time." There wasn't so much of a hint of boasting or gloating glee in the man's voice. He was entirely confident with his ability and after defeating a servant, he could back it up.

The woman felt entirely dissociated from her own body, a vacant observer viewing a life that wasn't her own. "Promise me you won't kill one master." Twisting his head to look at her straight on, the servant silently asked who she was referring to.

Swallowing thickly, the woman stood rigid. "Promise me you won't kill Saber's master."

… … …

… … …

Hissing, Shirou picked the remnants of his formerly pristine suit from his back. The semi-synthetic fibres had bonded to his scorched flesh and Avalon's healing merely exacerbated the problem. The situation reminded him of a similar one he went through during the Magus Tournament. It was different this time though - rather than removing it from charred flesh, he had to cut out the fabric from fully healed portions. It was arduous and agonizing but a necessary evil to prevent whatever infection would plague him from having clothing inside his skin.

Dematerializing the bloodied instrument in his hand, Shirou hesitated to look down at the disturbing sight within the sink. Avalon was a blessing, but for things like this it was a painful curse. If only he could toggle the regenerative effect when he desired, but that was asking too much from a relic that provided literal immortality.

Sighing, Shirou recalled the day's events. So much had happened that it was difficult to process all at once. Rin was unapproachable as a potential partner, as was Luvia - who he suspected to be a master as well. Sakura was a possibility, but he had gotten distracted and was unable to even ask, let alone see if she was a master. As the only Matou remaining, she almost had to be, but at this point who really knew?

He was fighting alone, though he was far from being in the worst position possible. With two servants under his command, his odds were already greater than normal. Couple their desire for honour and chivalry with his own desire to preserve his friends and family and they collectively made a solid team with a mutual goal.

Speaking of the supposed team, Saber was acting incredibly strange in the brief moments before they left the Edelfelt battleground. As she claimed back then, the king explained her reasoning for such a hasty departure after returning to the house. According to her, it was nothing more than an intense "gut feeling" that something terrible was on the way, and every warning sign she had as a knight told her to leave. Lancer was quick to chalk it up to her being scared, a comment she despised and quickly made that fact clear.

As much as she tried defending herself, Shirou believed Lancer's explanation. If only guessing by body language and tone of voice, she had seemed rather frightened back then. But what sort of servant or force would be enough to scare a king that seemed so resolute?

Turning his head over his shoulder and examining his back in the mirror, he could almost see Avalon slowly knitting the flesh together bit by bit. It was still stinging from the attack but appeared fully healed. It was a known aftereffect of Avalon pertaining to burns specifically - the outer layer could appear pristine but the inner layers would still be burnt.

A gun fired in Shirou's mind and blue lines appeared across his entire back. The design hadn't advanced all that much since the last time he had looked until he realized its efforts were being directed to his front. The ends that had terminated on his pectorals separated as if they were buds blooming from a branch. So he was still developing, though it wasn't nearly as drastic as those initial stages.

Sighing, the boy picked the pieces of skin bonded to fabric from the sink, throwing them in a trash bin before washing the blood from within. He would need to take that out later before it started to stink, but he could handle that the next morning. What he really wanted was some solid rest to prepare himself for another day. Hopefully, it wouldn't be as bad as the first.

Running a hand through his short silver hair, Shirou collected the shirt from the set of spare clothes he had brought with him. The first day of the War had already been eventful, to say the least. There were still three servants that had yet to make an appearance, but they were likely to reveal themselves within the next few days.

Throwing on his shirt, Shirou released a controlled breath and stepped out of the bathroom. All he was concerned about was getting a good night's rest, however difficult that would be for him.

* * *

 **Just realized that I haven't been saying my little suggestion at the end of each chapter like I normally do!**

 **Maybe that's why nobody is making any reviews, making me feel abandoned?**

 **Remember to follow, favourite and leave a review! Also, give some thanks to my wonderful beta who is still going strong - Talndir!**


	25. A Knock Upon the Front Door

**EDIT: Our fates are predetermined, at least that's what a fortune-teller told me. What do you guys all think? Is she crazy or not?**

 **When have I ever been nice to you?**

 **Well, responding with "today" would be fitting, don't you think!? I said I was on hiatus, I told you I was going away to recuperate from my writer's block but it was surprisingly short-lasting!**

 **In its stead, a new problem has bloomed though: Lack of time. School is getting a little heavy in terms of workload. I hope you really enjoyed Illya's little adventure, but we're back on track with more canon good stuff.**

 **I appreciate all your reviews and feedback, but hopefully, this chapter will inspire you all to propose more theories and try to determine just _who_ that very obscure servant might be, or _why_ they know so much.**

* * *

Surprisingly, Shirou hadn't had one of his trademark nightmares. It was the first time in an extremely long time and the timing couldn't have been any better if he'd planned for it. Waking up well-rested and refreshed, Shirou prepared breakfast for the three remaining members within the household. While there was a reduced number of people at the house, Shirou was cooking enough food for six people and at the end of each meal, not a single scrap remained. Saber and Lancer ate an astounding amount and the two knights seemed to challenge one another on who could eat more than the other.

Shirou merely took what he could while the ravenous servants battled one another. After inhaling most of his meal, Lancer was first to speak. "With each new day, my position on you is solidified further. I'm absolutely certain you would have had a place amidst the Round were you alive during the time."

Saber made a soft snort through her nose. "If Camelot's kitchen counted as the Round Table, I would agree."

Lancer offered Shirou a small smirk. "That's as close as you're going to get, I'm afraid. The king hardly ever changes her mind on things, especially topics of this nature."

Shirou forced a receptive smile. "That's fine by me. Being honest, I couldn't see myself seated at the Round Table anyway, so a confirmation of the fact isn't too insulting."

Both servants replied to the comment with visible shock. Obviously, they hadn't expected him to decline any chance at joining what was undoubtedly a position of extreme honour - to them at least. "An interesting point of view," Lancer stated, tilting his head in confusion.

The boy shrugged, lifted his plate and shuffled a large amount of rice into his mouth. "Would you care to explain that outlook?" Saber questioned. Lowering his plate, his eyes were met by two blazing emerald ones, glaring straight through him.

Unnerved by the sight, the boy shuddered once before composing himself. "It's just my personal belief, do I need to explain myself for that?" Awkwardly, the boy took his freshly emptied plate and moved toward the kitchen. While it was good housekeeping to clean up after one's self while the stains were fresh and easy to remove, it also gave Shirou an excuse to leave the table and conversation entirely.

At least, that's what would have happened in a perfect world. Seeing as how the kitchen and dining room weren't even fully separated and were only ten feet apart at most, Saber continued prying. "Is there something you are not telling us, Shirou? Has your father's methodology corrupted you as well?"

Keeping his head down on his plate as he prepared one side of the sink to wash, Shirou grit his teeth and took a deep breath to let the scalding comment wash over him without harm. "My father, Kiritsugu Emiya, has no corruptive methodology."

"Then what do you call-"

Shirou snapped his head upright to glare scaldingly at the King of Knights, silencing her in place with his cold glare. "The Magus Killer, the man he was and the man he could have become. That's the one you're looking for. As long as Kiritsugu Emiya has been my father, the Magus Killer has been dead." There was much more venom in his voice than he intended but the deed was done and he was set on seeing it through. "There's only one thing keeping Kiritsugu Emiya alive and he's with her right now." Continuing to bore through Saber's skull, Shirou opened his mouth to speak but a doorbell cut him off before he could finish.

Clenching his jaw, the two servants remained silent. They had been told that all door-answering would be done by a normal human, by Lancer in disguise in a worst-case scenario. With repressed anger, Shirou halted the flow of water into the basin, dried his hands and proceeded to the front door. He was typically happy to receive guests or visitors, but with times so tense, it was difficult to feel that way now. The person at his door was likely Taiga, searching for breakfast or returning to redouble her efforts in chewing him out for missing school.

Rounding the corner to the entry hallway, Shirou immediately realized by the silhouette on the sliding door that the visitor was certifiably _not_ Taiga. Based on the hair, the culprit was more likely to be Sakura or Lectra if anyone. Furrowing his brow, the boy approached the door and slid it open calmly. Even if it was a rival master, they would have to be stupid to attack him in broad daylight.

With the door open, Shirou blinked in surprise as a familiar friendly face came into view: It was Mitsuzuri, beaming brightly as she produced a casual half-wave. She was wearing a soft pink zip-up sweater that looked to be as comfortable as the colour. Hanging open, he was able to see the logo on the white shirt she wore, which happened to be a club shirt from when they had won the district Kyudo tournament together. Her legs were covered by jeans folded up once at the bottom to keep the lowest hem from dragging on the ground, an act which revealed her casual slip-on shoes as if that was anything of concern. "Hiya, Shirou," she greeted, cocking her head to the side as he stared at her, appalled. "Is there something on my face?"

Shirou blinked and his mental functionality returned all at once. "No, no that's not it. I'm just surprised to see you here is all." Calling it mere surprise was an understatement. Mitsuzuri was the least likely person he expected to visit him, but it wasn't entirely out of the question. He had been absent from school for some time and hadn't contacted anyone beyond Taiga to explain why.

Couple that with the fact that Mitsuzuri was a close friend who typically made sure he was keeping straight and that it was a weekend - and her appearance might as well have been prophecy.

The girl returned to brightly smiling. "I figured I would show up and see what's been keeping you from school. Taiga says you just didn't want to show up and I can see that you're not sick so what's going on?"

Shirou scratched the back of his neck, trying to think of how he could explain everything while still telling enough truth not to have his lie be seen through. He opened his mouth to speak but Mitsuzuri beat him to it. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me, life is complicated I get it. Could I just come in for a cup of tea though?" The girl's sharpened competitive features softened dramatically into an expression Shirou had never seen: concern. "Just so I can prove to myself that you're alright."

Knowing his answer in advance, Shirou made a link in his mind to his servant. " _Saber, a non-magus is visiting. Please clean up the dining room and make yourself scarce."_ Not expecting an answer, the boy agreed to the proposition and moved aside to let her enter.

Stepping within and removing her shoes, the girl looked around the genkan several times as if making a count of the shoes present. "It's been years since I last visited, but everything is still the same. It's sort of nice to see when everything around us has been changing so quickly."

Shirou found himself laughing, nostalgia striking at full force. "The last time you were here was for my fourteenth birthday. I think Rin invited you and your younger brother, right?"

"Tohsaka was just trying to rub it in my face that she got an invite from you first," the girl giggled while respectfully waiting for Shirou to lead the way to the dining room.

Acting on blind faith that Saber had done as asked, Shirou walked down the hall with his guest in tow. When he reached the partly open dining-room door, he was relieved to see that the servants had managed to remove any trace of additional guests. Breathing a small sigh of relief, the boy entered and motioned for his friend to sit whenever she wanted while he made tea for both of them.

"Do you really think Tohsaka is that mean?" Shirou wondered, turning his back to her so he could fill an electric kettle with water.

"Tohsaka and I are friends, for sure, but she's still competitive with me. She never told you about the little competition we started, did she?" The odd questioning tone in her voice made him cast a glance over his shoulder. Mitsuzuri was leaning over the table with her chin resting playfully in her hand, a concerning look in her eyes. Even though he was still young, Shirou had seen that precise look in too many women. That look was dangerous and foretold nothing but misfortune for him specifically.

"What sort of competition?" the boy asked simply, opening a cupboard to prepare china and a kettle. He had pre-bagged tea for quick single cups for guests which wouldn't care either way. For special guests, he had loose bagged leaves and proper brewing equipment to make quality refreshments.

It would take a few moments for the water to begin boiling, which offered more than enough time to converse with Mitsuzuri. "It was stupid really. Probably every kid our age did it."

Rolling his eyes, Shirou leaned over the counter casually. "Mitsuzuri-"

"We're not at school, Shirou. And if you don't think we're close enough to use each other's first name then you must be denser than I thought."

Scowling, Shirou straightened and tried to defend himself only to get a quick laugh in response. Realizing how easily she could toy with him, Shirou felt himself starting to snicker at his own flippancy. "Ayako then," she nodded. "You still haven't told me what this competition was about. All I know is that it was made when you were younger and that it's probably stupid." As he finished speaking, the kettle started to burble ominously as the water within neared boiling.

"It was simple really. It was a competition to see who could get a boyfriend first." Halfway through turning around, Shirou was jarred but the sudden comment and his subsequently twitched elbow bumped the electric kettle, nearly spilling the entire container onto the floor and counter.

He didn't thankfully. After recovering, the boy transferred the hot water to a kettle that held a strainer loaded with leaves. It would need to steep for a while, but Shirou could use the time to figure out why they had such a strange competition. Opening his mouth to begin questioning why; Ayako started responding before he even finished.

"We were young and dumb like I said. Either way, Rin beat me by a mile. If I had known you two were already starting something I wouldn't have even tried. You _and_ Sakura that is."

Carrying everything necessary to the table in one commendable trip, Shirou settled himself onto a zabuton after all the components were placed. "When you put it that way it sounds kinda bad. They know about one another, so th-" he paused, replaying his words through his mind. "You know, no matter how I word that it sounds bad so I'm going to stop while I'm ahead."

Giggling as the boy tried to hide his face in embarrassment, Ayako gently slid a cup and plate closer to her front, eagerly awaiting tea. "I'm not judging you for it. You're free to do what you want with who you want so long as everyone's aware."

Shirou reached forward, wrapping one hand around the handle of the teapot to fill Ayako's cup. She thanked him for it when he was finished. With a respectful nod, he moved to fill his own cup while Ayako moved on to a new conversation. "There is one problem though. As long as I've known you, you've always had a reason for your actions. Leaving the archery club, staying home from school, fixing things for anybody who asks," she trailed off, wrapping both hands around the cup ahead.

With her bangs concealing her eyes, Shirou couldn't quite determine what emotion she was intending to convey, but her voice was oddly monotonous when it made that list.

"So why were you never interested in me?"

… … …

… … …

"Do you think it's safe to go back home yet?" It was an innocent enough question, maybe it would be enough to stir her friend from her meticulous planning. "I've never lived in a mansion before this but after a whole year I've gotten a little too used to it."

Staring at her blonde friend upside down, Lectra kicked her feet to make loud thumping noises on the bed. The Edelfelt woman turned around from the window she had been staring out of, making a double-take as she spotted Lectra hanging off the edge of the bed. "I have absolutely no idea. It's probably safe during the day, but who knows at night? Can't you just be thankful that you're alright?"

Lectra scowled, letting her upper body sink further and further off the edge of the bed until the top of her head contacted the ground. "I guess, but-" she paused, kicking her feet high and rolling her entire body over itself. She might have been able to transfer some of that momentum into standing as well, but her plan failed to take into account that there was simply not enough room.

Rolling onto her heels, the girl slammed headfirst into the wall. A hollow thud echoed through the hotel room, followed by a groaning noise of pain. "That looked like it hurt," Luvia supplied, trying not to laugh.

Rubbing the spot sorely, the girl pouted. "It did, a lot; thank you. As I was saying, I just want to sleep somewhere that wouldn't make me sick if I saw it under black light."

"I'd still say life is better than comfort. Besides, that damned enforcer destroyed quite a lot of the manor so it's probably not that comfortable anymore." Turning her back, the blonde peered out of her window at a spot unknown, fixating on it with a heavy squint.

"At least some of the bedrooms were spared," Lectra shrugged, pushing herself off the ground to stand. "I never got to eat last night, so I'm going out to get food. Did you want anything?"

The Edelfelt brought one hand to her face, producing a long hum. "I'll go with you, I could use the fresh air and we can take a look at the manor on the way." After donning their shoes, the pair set out to the streets, talking amongst themselves on where they wanted to eat.

Eventually, they reached the Edelfelt manor. It was in an even greater state of distress than either of the two had remembered. One side had been covered in thick black soot, though it thankfully wasn't burnt. The yard outside was significantly more devastated. Craters of varying sizes spanned in every direction, sometimes even overlapping one another. It reminded Luvia of the time she visited the battlefield of Verdun. The craters left by shelling had grown grass and flowers to create a beautiful but morbid vista.

While there was no grass in these craters, the devastation was similar. Whatever force had caused the destruction had been ruthless, trying to purge every inch and ensure no escape.

"I think you're right. The other place is definitely better than this right now." Luvia remained silent, resuming their walk. Lectra was slow to catch on but returned to her side with a small jog. "Sure am glad that we managed to leave when we did though, this looks like a real battleground," Lectra commented idly. A gust of wind blew through the area and in response, the brunette tugged the eared hood over her head. "What do you think about yakisoba?"

"That'll be fine," Luvia replied hollowly.

Blinking in surprise, Lectra narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to peer into her friend's own. "Are you upset about the manor? I thought you said you didn't really care about it since it was from an ancestor you couldn't even remember."

The blonde shook her drill curls around. "I _don't_ care about it. It's an ancient relic from our family and we own another one in the surrounding forests, somewhere."

"Then what's got you upset?"

The Edelfelt held her silence, but Lectra could pick out a subtle teeth-grinding noise. "I was just thinking about Blade again."

"You mean Shirou," Lectra claimed dryly, feeling her own temper raise at the simple mention of his name. Unlike her friend, she could keep it under greater control.

Luvia produced an audible noise of exasperation. "Whatever. I just want to get to the bottom of things, figure out what's really going on and finally call him out on all his bullshit."

Lectra sighed and stood normally, trying to find the sign for the yakisoba place she had seen before. All of the private lessons between her and Shirou had taught her a considerable amount, enough to be competent on the Japanese streets.

"Well, hopefully, we can track him down again tonight and question him for real. I'm in decent condition, so we should be able to handle him if things take a turn for the worst." Unlike other times they had claimed something similar, this time _wasn't_ a lie. It was just a gamble.

"Right there, yakisoba," Lectra pointed, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Picking up the pace to stop right in front of Luvia's path, the brunette offered a bright smile that managed to work its way onto the Edelfelt's features as well. "I can't plan on an empty stomach and you dragged me out to this country so you get to feed me."

Luvia made a snorting laugh. "Fine, fine but after we eat we're immediately going to try tracking down and confronting _Blade_."

"Do you think he'll be in the same area as last time?"

"Only one way to find out."

After a not-so-healthy dinner, the two girls set out to search the general area they had met Shirou last night as the sun set over the ocean. If what he said was correct, there was a good chance they would meet him again and if not that day, the next day or the day after that for sure. The two went about tracking him carefully. First, they masked their signature as magi using some sort of spell Luvia knew. Second, Lectra laid small orbs of ether to act as a rudimentary detection system. While she didn't have a firm memory of his magic signature, she could set the clumps to inform her of any disturbance.

It took over an hour of patrolling before an ether clump ever picked up a signature. Even after finding out where he was, it was difficult to keep up. After the first signal, several more sounded in quick succession as if he were sprinting past them at a break-neck speed. At first, they tried to follow and catch up to him but realized that wouldn't work. Thankfully Luvia had surveyed the area and learned of a shortcut that put them on an intercept path with their target.

Maneuvering through the alleys, they finally caught sight of the boy's crimson coattails and sprinted to keep up. They were way too far away to shout his name and hope for a response, but close enough to see him round corners each and every time. It was a game of cat and mouse but the two girls felt more like the mouse than the cat. Lectra honestly considered that he was merely toying with them, or he was just really awful at outrunning a tail. Luvia was the one who confirmed that it was surprisingly like him, considering her last attempt at tracking the boy.

It took ten minutes of fast-paced tracking until they were close enough that a beckon would reach him.

"Shirou!" Lectra shouted, sprinting to the end of the alley. Rounding the corner, she spotted the man's back, oblivious to her shouting. He seemed taller than she remembered, and his motions were far more rigid too. Regardless, there was no denying that it was Shirou; only one of him existed after all. Calling out his name a second time was enough to garner his attention.

He appeared confused for a moment, but suddenly remembered who she was. "Lectra," he greeted. "It looks like you've caught me on the prowl again."

A few footfalls acted as a warning of Luvia's arrival. Within seconds the Edelfelt was behind the first girl, glaring daggers at their past friend. "We've been wanting to talk to you about something for a _long_ time," Lectra began.

"We know you're Blade," Luvia blurted out from over her shoulder.

Lectra carried the spurred momentum. "And we know your father is the Magus Killer too, so you know why we're here."

Shirou blinked, appearing rather unaffected for having what had to be his biggest lie foiled in an instant. "You'll have to remind me again. My memory has been altered since then," he explained.

Luvia made a soft sound of surprise from behind. For a few awkward seconds, neither of the two would form a coherent response. Moving closer to whisper, the Edelfelt relayed her own take of the comment to her partner. "He must have been really committed, he likely purged his own memory of his time in Britain to keep his cover solid."

Lectra scowled and planted both hands on her hips defiantly. "Magic or not, you're going to remember everything sooner or later so if you're just lying you'd better come clean."

Shirou shifted on his feet, throwing his weight to one side. "That _almost_ sounds like a threat."

"It is," Luvia answered, taking the forefront. "And we're prepared to use force to gather the information we're looking for." The Edelfelt shifted to stand partly in front of Lectra, jabbing her thigh as she did. Without directing her head, Lectra made note of a gleaming red gem resting squarely in Luvia's palm. That hand was behind her back and the gesture was an obvious signal for Lectra to prepare an ether clump should things turn to the worst.

Shuffling forward to nudge up against the shoulder of the Edelfelt, Lectra took hold of the gemstone from her friend's hand without being able to see. "So tell us why, tell us why you pretended to be Blade, our friend, if all you were going to do was leave."

Shirou grimaced like he didn't quite understand what he was being asked but the tone was annoying him regardless. "What makes the two of you think that you were the ultimate goal? Did either of you consider that you were mere obstacles?"

The scathing questions made both girls flinch. "So you didn't care about us at all?"

The man shrugged passively. "It's entirely possible. I care little about anyone anymore."

The Edelfelt made a strange noise like something didn't quite add up and her mind vocalized the error detection. "Then why hide your father from us? You must care about him," Luvia reasoned. In response to her words, the man's features soured instantly. With how visibly enraged he grew, it was almost as if she had spat in his mouth.

"My father is a vile man. I wish I knew where he was so I could kill him myself." The entire dichotomy between the three was dropped on its head. They had rapidly shifted from the aggressors of the conversation to the ones being accused.

Lectra laughed nervously to break the tension. "Well, it's interesting you say that because we kind of want to kill him too! Isn't that right Luvia?"

The man's eyes twitched and honed in entirely on Luvia. "Do you know where he's hiding? I'd be more than willing to assist in your goal if those are your intentions."

Pausing to give Lectra a nervous look, Luvia faced Shirou and shrugged passively. "I have a guess, but I think he's relocated. I thought you-" Luvia began, only to be cut off.

"I wouldn't worry about that," he passed off. How did he even know what she was going to say? Lectra certainly hadn't.

"Well if we discover something new, we'll contact you."

Almost as soon as she said it, the man shook his head, claiming, "That won't work at all. What if I visit you once every night and we can coordinate a strike from there?"

Luvia hesitated and the uncertainty was shared between them both. On one hand, this had been a massive unforeseen benefit to their situation, on the other - it was weird. It was entirely strange because it went against what they knew about Shirou. Just because he appeared cooperative did not reduce his potential to be an enemy. If he truly was an enemy, they would be working alongside someone who could easily sell them out to their ultimate target, not to mention that they would be giving their location to him as well. Between early warning and betrayal, the downsides nearly outweighed the possible benefit.

"How can we be certain that you won't betray us?"

Shirou paused, hummed and raised one hand to his chin. "I suppose that is a concern. Since words only go so far, would an item of mine that holds value be enough to place your trust in me?"

Luvia shrugged awkwardly. "I suppose so. Before you answer, let me guess; you don't have anything that isn't a projection that I could hold on to."

The man hesitated and was obviously taken aback by the comment. He recovered quickly if nothing else. "Unfortunately not. I only have one genuine possession, though it is quite important to me."

"Well then it will have to do," Lectra nonchalantly settled.

Furrowing his brow, Shirou produced a sigh and uncomfortably shuffled on the spot. "Then take this," he began, begrudgingly reaching into one pocket of his ridiculous outfit to deposit something into Luvia's cautiously extended hand: A brilliant crimson gemstone on a thin silver chain. It was significantly lighter than she expected, though, in the world of magecraft, appearances weren't always the best thing to base assumptions off of.

Turning the artifact over in her hands, the girl admired it but asked no questions as to why it was important to him. That moment didn't come across as the most opportune time for such a query. Clapping the relic in her hand, the Edelfelt nodded. "Our family owns a house in the forest surrounding Fuyuki, you can find us there."

"I believe I know the house, I'll meet you there tonight," the man claimed before quickly taking his leave.

The two girls looked at one another as they stood alone in the afternoon dusk. "Well that didn't go quite like I expected," Lectra claimed, stuffing both hands into her hoodie.

"You said it," Luvia agreed, looking off in the direction that Shirou left. "I'm just trying to figure out why he would willingly wipe his own memories. Maybe there's something more to this than we thought."

Lectra made a soft sigh. "I couldn't tell you. He had to have known he was the Magus Killer's son from the start otherwise he wouldn't have worn a disguise. Maybe his cover was close to getting blown and he had to get out?"

Luvia snapped one finger, snapping her head around to glare at her now surprised friend with unhidden excitement. "That's it! Someone in the Clock Tower was getting close to finding out who he really was so he bailed before they could! The only way they wouldn't be able to track him down would be if he disappeared permanently, so he staged his death in the middle of a public space to prevent anyone from following him."

"Who do you think it was?"

"It had to be Reines. She was all over him and a girl like that doesn't let the whole anonymous thing go untouched."

Lectra recoiled her head like she had been slapped. "Well, we definitely can't ask her for help."

"Or could we?" Luvia quickly questioned, getting her shorter friend to blink rapidly.

"You want to try questioning the powerful head of the Archisortie family? Let me know when you do so I can get nice flowers for your funeral at least."

Luvia shook her head, throwing blonde drill curls in every direction. "Reines is a twisted person. She likes watching people suffer a little too much to be considered healthy. She was only so close to Blade because she wanted to see him break and if she finds out that her favourite plaything is actually alive," the girl led on, hoping Lectra would catch onto her plan.

Thankfully, she did. "Then she'll show up immediately and try to toy with him again."

"If Trimmau comes with her, she'll definitely be strong enough to put Shirou in his place too."

Lectra twitched. "So we don't even get to do the hard work? Then what are we waiting for? Let's call her up as soon as we can!"

… … …

Closing the door, Shirou turned on his heels and released a deep sigh. Of all the conversations he'd had in his life, that one had been the most awkward. He had never expected Ayako to be that interested in him, but apparently her rivalry had been some strange flirtation tactic.

"She was not a master," a voice spoke to him and before his eyes, the figure of Lancer wearing a suit came into view.

"You were listening to our conversation?" Shirou shouted, feeling his face grow red with embarrassment. He had admitted some things he would have preferred to remain a secret.

"Of course," Saber's voice chimed in while her head poked out from around the corner down the hall. "We were ensuring that she was not a master or a puppet of the enemy designed to strike while your guard was lowered."

Groaning, Shirou let himself slide down the door onto his rear. "Can both of you just forget I said all of that?"

Shirou could practically hear the grin spread across Lancer's face. "The part where you admitted to having feelings for her when you were younger but neglected to say anything because you thought she didn't like you?"

Shooting the servant a glare that could kill, Shirou furrowed his brow and scowled heavily. "I almost took your arm off before; don't tempt me to take it off for real."

Lifting his hands in surrender, Lancer quickly stepped back with a nervous look on his face. "Looks like I stepped on a nerve, time to leave." As if he had been made of dust, the servant's body faded into nothingness, leaving Saber's bright face behind.

"Did you have plans for tonight, Shirou?" the servant asked, stepping into full view.

Considering the question, the boy awkwardly shrugged before lifting himself off the floor. "There is one thing I wanted to do, but the chances of it actually ending how I want are pretty slim."

… … …

As it had the day before, night fell all too quickly, bringing about all the danger Shirou had been worried about.

Shirou had little desire to scour Fuyuki for fights like he had essentially done yesterday, but his original goal was still unfinished: He had to speak with Sakura and see if she was interested in establishing an alliance of sorts or flat out calling off the war. The worst thing she would do is say no, so he didn't have much to worry about with her.

His concern lied entirely with Zouken Matou - or Zolgen Makiri if his father's findings were to be believed. The man was a literal worm with the personality to match. If Zouken happened to be the Matou master or had control over the servant, things would be significantly worse.

Seeing as how his suit had been destroyed the previous night, Shirou threw on a much more casual black and white windbreaker and wrapped a scarf around his neck to keep the cold winter wind from chilling his body too much. He could have gone the extra mile and projected a copy of his suit but that would have been a needless waste of precious mana. It was precious considering Saber used an appalling amount when in combat. Nearly half of his reserves had been expended merely supporting the servant. That cut his combat effectiveness down drastically and revamped his tactics as a whole.

For example - and just as a precaution - Shirou set a mental limit to keep his mana reserves above half. If Saber was to get into a fight, she would need all he could offer and possibly more.

Something else concerned him as well, something he hadn't considered until the problem was glaringly obvious. With Illya in the Einzbern castle, he couldn't implant Avalon into her to keep her healthy. She was missing out on the enhanced healing effect and the plain squandered opportunity was what hurt Shirou. The last copy he embedded within her the day before she left was still active in her body, but the projection was crumbling away exponentially. It was unlikely to last the rest of the night.

Perhaps if he had given her the genuine copy, things would have been different. There was a problem with that though. Both his father and his own mind always told him to be greedy with the sheath. It was a relic which offered immortality, why would a master in his position not hold on to such a thing?

Because he valued his sister's life more than his own, plain and simple. Adjusting the scarf around his neck, Shirou stared up at the Matou manor, absorbing its grim, dreary appearance. He always hated the smell associated with this place: rotten flesh. It even permeated the grounds through the walls of the building like the whole architecture was developed upon decay. It was sickening but appeared that only he could detect such a thing as Lancer made no comment at all during their approach.

As he had done before, the servant disguised himself as Missy. Shirou was becoming increasingly more envious of her sister's servant. Not only was he a better swordsman than Saber, but his adaptability also went hand in hand with Shirou's. The only thing holding back true cooperation was the lack of a seamless medium for communication. Like rubbing the matter in his face, Lancelot also had three separate Noble Phantasms. Although Saber had the same number, one - Avalon - was locked away inside his own body. One of Lancer's phantasms had already been used a half-dozen times and continued to prove its usefulness - _For Someone Else's Glory_ , an ability which allowed the servant to assume whatever identity he desired on a whim, even fabricated ones. Finding a difference between the facade and the genuine person was impossible. By all means of detection, they were the exact same person.

The range of applications such a seamless disguise had were limitless. Its only limit came from Lancer's chivalric code. He mandated that he would not battle in disguise, regardless of the scenario and that he would not use any disguise for evil deeds or to besmirch another person's image.

Breaking and entering into a rival magus' home wasn't really an evil deed, was it? With a sharp jab of a reinforced elbow, Shirou bent the latch of the Matou main gate enough to gain entry. Apologizing to no one specifically for the broken entrance, Shirou casually stepped inside only to have his senses truly assaulted by a myriad number of projected emotions. The weather seemed to agree, rumbling ominously as the darkened sky threatened to break into rain.

Shirou held still to tighten the distance between himself and Lancer, who was being quite an actor with his frightened Missy display. Hardly a dozen steps from the main entrance, a voice reached him from every direction simultaneously. "Hold it right there," it claimed. Shirou was all too familiar with the owner of that voice, Zouken Matou.

"I've come to talk about an alliance," Shirou began, immediately feeling stupid before the man responded. There was something about Zouken that gave off an unshakeable feeling of inadequacy.

"You slaughter my grandson, ask every other master for help, then crawl to Sakura as your last option? And you call me a worm," the old man spat back mercilessly. There was an absence of humour in his tone, absolute sincerity from his cold blackened heart dominating the message.

Shirou grit his teeth and shook his head. "Sakura wasn't my last choice. I didn't really want things to turn out this way, I had expected-"

"A happy fairy-tale ending," the man finished. "Unfortunately life is far crueller than we anticipate, though you're too young and naive to truly comprehend that." A swirling, chitinous noise developed out of nowhere, originating from every direction without a visible source.

"I didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."

"Merely another testament to your inability to view the bigger picture," the man claimed and the chattering grew louder.

"So you won't even let me speak to her then?"

There was a short chuckle. "If you keep this rate of revelations up you might be able to graduate from kindergarten within the year. Unfortunately for you, you won't even make it that far. Entering a rival master's home without a servant was a foolish mistake."

A cry echoed his name, but Shirou's mind was already on top of things. He was already aware of incoming danger and his body leapt back of its own volition. Lancer moved to cover him as well, but something strange happened.

His mind had warned him of incoming projectiles but the number of projectiles was very limited, on top of being slow and far from dangerous: A throwing dagger, a rusted shuriken, a handful of strange bent arrows and even a _fork_. It was like someone had emptied a junk drawer and thrown all the contents collectively rather than used a weapon with any killing purpose. The objects that did reach his body were easily swatted away with a reinforced hand.

Shirou thought he heard a distant laughing sound, but he wasn't quite sure with the monotonous chattering going on around him already. Keeping his eyes open for further threats, Shirou gripped at Lancer's shoulder to tug the disguised servant back. "There's no point in trying here, we might as well leave."

Taking a few fleeting steps back, another fork was thrown in his direction with a bit more force than the other objects. "We're leaving, calm down," Shirou shouted to the servant he couldn't see.

Doubling their efforts to leave, the two exited the Matou property with even less hope than they started with. Shirou's face was tight in anger as he strode to where Saber was waiting for them. She didn't even have to ask how it went to understand the outcome, something he was thankful for.

If Zouken was able to make orders like that, he was more or less keeping Sakura bound within the manor, her only goal to power whichever servant she summoned. If she never left the house, the plan he made with Caren and his father would never be possible. Could he find a way to force her out?

"If a servant was present, I couldn't detect them," Lancer claimed to his king, popping the boy's concentration partially. "That would place them as Assassin, however stranger things are possible."

"A Berserker with presence concealment?" Saber asked with obvious doubt in her tone. "And to think I almost allowed you to be my tactical advisor."

"Assassin then. Regardless, we have nearly seen every servant this War has to offer. So far, not one will be able to handle us."

Shirou quickly interjected, forcing aside his brooding thoughts about Sakura. "That servant was toying with us, with his own master. I don't think we should discount them, whatever class they might be."

"As you wish," Lancer nodded.

Saber made a loud clang as she bounced one armoured gauntlet off her breastplate. "Many assassins have tried for my head in the past. I assure you on my honour as a knight that this one will not succeed where others have failed."

"Very complicated way of saying you'll win but I get the sentiment," Shirou blinked. Saber, on the other hand, seemed taken aback, stiffening for a moment before allowing her brow to twitch.

"Is there a problem with the way I speak?" The knight panned her gaze from Shirou to Lancer who merely pretended not to exist.

Shirou took the pause to move onto a new topic. "Since that happened, I don't really know what to do anymore." Running a hand through his short silver hair to set it upright, the boy looked distantly toward the faint stars above. "I don't want to fight anyone. If we could all work together then ending the Grail Wars permanently would be easy."

"Shirou," Saber began, waiting until he offered his entire attention to her. "You've never explained how exactly you intend to put an end to the Wars."

Shirou clenched his jaw tightly, relaxing as he held his servant's gaze. "I know what took place at the end of the last War. I know every detail, including your role in its end." The servant flinched, something even Lancer was surprised by. "But you never destroyed the true grail," Shirou continued, reaching into the memories stored within Kiritsugu's journal. "The object you destroyed is known as the lesser grail, a fake derivative of the true wish-granting device known as the greater grail. Both have been corrupted, but only the destruction of one will bring down the entire system."

"Master, how do you know all of this?" Lancer interrupted, face set in deadly seriousness.

"My father used to work for one of the families responsible for the formation of the Holy Grail War. During his time there, he collected all the knowledge he could and passed it down to me."

"This is how you know the grail is corrupted?" Flashbacks of the beginning of his life ran through his eyes, sending a twitch to his eyebrow and the visceral scene took control of his senses.

Even now, a decade after the event, he could smell the cursed burning flesh and hear the endless wails of those unable to die, suspended torturously on the brink of death in full consciousness. Blinking to clear away the visions, Shirou returned to himself and gestured for the two servants to follow as he walked back toward the house. "You don't have to look any further than Central Park to see that the grail was cursed. Even ten years after the explosion that killed hundreds, the land still holds curses."

"So where is this greater grail located?"

"Underground," the boy supplied simply. "It's located in a cave beneath Fuyuki where it can fully connect to the leylines. Although, that's just a guess considering my father and I have never seen it."

"And how do you plan on stopping it?" Lancer questioned, still maintaining his image as Missy.

Shirou shrugged partly, considering the question for a moment. "The same way Saber ended the last War. Before you ask, I have no idea whether it will work or not, but it's the best chance we have."

Saber took a few large steps to walk at his side. "What prevents us from doing that right now?"

"Supposedly, the greater grail requires the death of five servants to make an appearance. Though that might not be true since this War itself is an abnormality. With all the stored residual energy, it might only take one."

Saber's tone grew somewhat irritated. "And you expect every other master and servant to accept the fact that their dreams and wishes are nothing but fool's gold?"

Shaking his head, Shirou focused his attention forward, keeping his voice cold and level. "Not at all. Some are bound to resist, either because of greed or simple stubbornness. In the end, the other servants don't matter. You both have agreed to put an end to this system to prevent humanity's extinction."

"You're certain the grail can enact that level of devastation?"

Nodding to himself, Shirou further explained his father's peculiar past: His predictive dreams, visions of the future and hints of his destiny. The old man had watched himself experience visions from whatever dark demonic entity inhabited that coveted cup and wanted nothing to do with it.

Expectedly, Saber wondered why - If he had visions of the future - he did not attempt to stop the war during his time.

Shirou quickly explained that the future his old man saw was entirely different to the one he had made by reacting to his visions. That was on top of the fact that his visions were limited to specific times in specific places he happened to be in during another life. "For example, one major difference in your War and the War he saw was Caster."

The servant of the sword twitched at the mention of that man. "So his visions are useless in the current times."

"Exactly, which is why neither of us know what's next or what to do."

"If your father knew all of this, why did he not stop the War on his own?"

Shirou made an uncertain hum. "From what I know, there was too much opposition. That and, well, Caster told him that I would be the only one who could do it."

"You?"

"I don't really believe it myself, but that's what he was told." Rounding the corner of a building, Shirou continued his determined march back home. He really should have explained all of this to the servants previously but Kiritsugu decided to leave the information on a need-to-know basis. "Either way, that's why Kiritsugu has taken a backseat to this War. We agreed before the start of this War that he would be better off protecting Illya."

"Disregarding your father's tactical wisdom?" Lancer asked, getting a sharp glare from Saber that even Shirou felt.

"Shirou's father is not someone to take orders from. The best decision is the one which places Kiritsugu as far from the battlefield as possible."

Lancer produced a dry cough, still unnaturally acting as Missy. "You must have had some different opinions during your time with him as your master."

Before Saber could respond, Shirou took the reigns of the conversation and steered his servants back on track. "I wanted the old man to stay away so he wouldn't kill my friends, but," he paused. All at once, flickering images of a dark-haired man standing overtop many familiar, twisted corpses ran through the boy's mind. It was his greatest fear, it was their last option. The two of them might survive, but Shirou would be broken. "If something happens or if my plan doesn't get some results, he'll be forced to assist."

"Shirou-" Saber began, chiding remarks incoming immediately.

"I know," the boy interrupted just as fast. "I want it as much as you do, but what other choice do I have?" The two knights had no response, letting the sound of three sets of footsteps dominate the night. "That's exactly what I thought," the boy murmured, tightening the scarf around the lower half of his face.

… … …

… … …

A soft bluish-white glow dominated the room, originating from a large basin of water that revealed something far from the interior of the room. Beneath the surface, the wavering image of a man and two women walking down the street. "The question is, should we jump on them now or later?"

There was a soft creak as the man leaned back in his chair, unnatural weight straining the aged wood. Deeper within the room, a woman much too involved with a brown glass bottle shot him a sly look. An overly long silence followed a "tsk" and the clatter of two beer bottles. "Let him be, that soiree with your little girly friend used enough of my mana. You handling two servants would be enough of a drain, but their master happens to be a tough little bastard." With the thrust of one arm, one of the bottles in her grasp was put in his direction.

The man raised one eyebrow, snorted and took hold of the offered beverage. "As much as I love drinking beer and doing nothing, when there's fighting to do I get pretty restless, master."

"One day isn't going to kill you. Besides," the woman paused to open the bottle, taking a jovial sip before resuming, "you'll get plenty of chances to fight later."

The man made a sharp hum, drinking his beer in the dimly-lit room until a thought came to him.

"You know master, you haven't told me much about yourself; why don't we change that?" A teasing smile spread across his face, sharp incisors visible despite the low visibility.

"What did you want to know?" She knew the servant would only be present for a few weeks at best, so telling him the information was inconsequential.

Maintaining his sharp smile, the man navigated to settle on the couch beside his master. "About you. We were kept separate during my summoning and you were quiet the entire plane ride. Never got to learn anything about my master until we were drinking at the only bar to open before five." With methodical grace, the robe-clad servant propped both feet upon the coffee table.

Mimicking the servant, Bazett relaxed into the couch and nested her beer within both hands. "I'm the first enforcer from a long line of recluse mercenaries. My immediate family was nice enough but it was my ancestors and outside influence that really pushed me out, especially after my mother died."

"Sounds tragic," the servant mumbled, leaning his head over the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

Making another "tsk", the woman continued. "It was what it was. Sick of the family and desperate for answers I went to the Mage's Association and trained to become an enforcer."

"Why?"

The woman blinked, took a sip of her beer and answered. "I wanted to find out how and why my mother died. One day, she just disappeared and never returned from her mission."

"Mission?"

"She was a mercenary type like I said. She didn't take many contracts after I was born but sometimes the money was too good to pass up. Anyway, she took one, ended up completing it and got paid only before vanishing like a ghost." Bazett had long since come to terms with her mother's disappearance. It still bothered her, but not nearly as much as it had then.

"Foul play from the contract maker?"

"Looked into it. They didn't say a thing even after all the torture." Pausing to take another drink, the servant chuckled at her ominous reply.

"Alright so now I've got some backstory, but something else has been bugging me. You seem to know that kid we ran into last night, how'd that come around?"

"Believe it or not that has ties to my mother as well. Twelve years ago, my mother left to complete a contract training some magus. It would take months but we needed the money and it didn't seem too difficult. Long story short, she trained that kid's father and I came back here to see if he knew anything about her disappearance. I guess I repeated the cycle because I ended up training that kid like my mother trained his father."

The servant suddenly broke out into laughter. "So you trained a kid to be even better than you?"

Growling and baring her teeth, Bazett shot her servant a vicious glare. "I can kick his ass if I want, it just takes some effort since he knows what I'm capable of - to a point."

"Alright, alright, so go on; you trained the kid and talked to his old man. Did you two," the servant wiggled an eyebrow, smirk growing larger as he did.

"Caster, he was _sixteen_."

"So what? I had my first son when I was sixteen."

With obvious disgust, the woman shook her head. "I'm not doing that, times have changed."

Rolling his eyes, the servant threw out both his arms across the back of the couch before producing a great sigh. "Yes, so much for the better. At least you have ale without having to visit a tavern."

"Among other things: No plagues, lower infant mortality, higher life expectancy and ultimately greater convenience through all aspects of life."

"It's also taken all the challenge out of life, though whether you believe that's a problem or not is up to debate."

"Pros and cons," the woman decided, letting her head fall back into the servant's hand. "So, from one rune-maker to another, how would you rate my work?"

Lifting one of her own gloved hands into view, the servant shifted and used the hand not under his master's head to look the article over. "I don't have much to compare it to, but it's not bad for something of my age. It's decent work in the Age of Man for sure."

"Would it be possible for you to enhance them somehow?"

The servant released her hand and returned to his comfortable position. "I could, though I've got no idea if they'll work the same. Can't hurt to try though, right?" Making a humming agreement, the woman continued gazing at his face while the servant rested his eyes. "Quit staring at me unless you plan on making a move." Caster didn't even bother to open his eyes, scolding her without sight.

Shifting her head immediately, Bazett ran over the conflict of being challenged but dissuaded at the same time. A wave of heat struck her face and the meagre amount of beer she drank came at her all too quickly.

"What an idiot," she murmured, turning her head to stare back at the roof. "I'm all at insulted that you think I'm that easy."

"Surprise to me. Take it from the Hound himself; you smell pretty desperate for the attention."

She knew what he was doing, but it wasn't going to work. He was trying to get her to make a move by continually testing her, the dirtiest but most effective trick in the book. "We're done talking about this," the enforcer decided.

"Whatever you say, master. Either way, it would be an interesting way to pass the time while you recover." A sly grin and sleazy look gradually formed on his face.

There was a soft thump as a throw pillow smashed into his face. "If you're that goddamn energized then either grab your staff and kick both Saber and Lancer's asses or get your pants off."

… … …

… … …

"Only dying flowers lose their petals," a hollow voice rasped, clinging to her ears as it echoed around her from every direction simultaneously. The area wasn't merely dark, it was void of everything, including darkness itself. The emptiness was suffocating, entirely encapsulating and held with it an intense weight that made breathing harder than it already was.

A different, slightly higher pitched voice responded. "Dying flowers return with rain."

"But the rain only falls when it's unwanted," another voice claimed, coming from a different direction. Turning within the space did nothing. It was almost as if direction didn't exist either, but how could that be possible?

"If you are the flower, we are the rain: Unwanted and expired."

"Just like you, just like us." The voices whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. It was inviting but dangerous, a juxtaposing cacophony of emotions. "We're the same if you peel away the first layer." A slimy black finger slid across her shoulder, crawling further across her body before clamping down and peeling back the first layer of skin. Underneath was not muscle or sinew as she expected, but an inky black void nearly as oppressive as the room around her.

"We are the rain, we are the fallen petals. We are unwanted." A masked figure moved into view. Its burning blue eyes bore straight through her skull. It was difficult to tell in the inky darkness, but she could have sworn that the figure was smiling. "We are the same, identical." Inky black fingers moved in front of her face, tapping at a spot on the figure's chest to reveal an identical void space.

"But-"

"There's more, yes." Turning with a gesture, the figure pointed to someone standing beneath a distant spotlight. It was an unmistakable boy with silver hair. "Him: the idealist, the false prophet, maleficent martyr."

"I-"

"We know that too. Your thoughts and emotions are a stream." The figure slid both of its hands up her arms before resting them softly on her cheeks. "Your aspirations are ours, we must hold mutual goals if we hope to succeed." Lost in the flaming blue eyes, the woman failed to notice several other masks sliding into view.

They varied in height, but each one had an identical mask and glowing blue eyes. They were constantly in motion, swirling around her seamlessly but always fixated on her as if she was their entire reason for being. "So what will you do?"

A laugh originated from somewhere far away, swirling around like the various masks before flying past like a moving vehicle. "Romeo and Juliet, Adam and Eve. The others are as Icarus to the sun. Fly too close- well."

Through various places in the darkness, kindling fires began. The upstarts turned to blazes which revealed stationary figures detailing people she knew and cared for. There was sadness, but it was incredibly fleeting - hollow.

Her eyes automatically focused on the spotlit boy smiling at her. Without moving his mouth, he offered her kind compassionate words that made the oppressive darkness of the room seem like a secondary thought.

"We do this for the unwanted, for all of us. To prevent the end, the void." Like an approaching tsunami, a wave of blackish, crimson mist washed over the boy in the distance, dissolving him into nothing more than red paste. It took less time than it did for her to even react and before she could, the masked figures formed a blockade to halt the strange flow - and another copy of the silver-haired boy appeared.

The figure in front of her moved to take up her entire field of view with its ivory mask and piercing blue eyes. "The play will begin, it is time to rise. Let us see whether this act is writ by Sophocles or Aristophanes."

… … …

… … ...

Sliding the door shut, Shirou produced a soft sigh. "Seems really quiet today," he mumbled, dejectedly removing his shoes.

"Perhaps they're still scarred from last night," Lancer concluded, body shifting to take on its normal male form.

Saber's face was tight in deep thought. "It's odd. It's as if the other masters are purposefully hiding and playing a passive role."

"There are still two other servants we haven't seen yet. It might be that they don't know where the other masters are and they don't want to risk a repeat of last night." With shoes removed, Shirou slowly walked back to the dining room. Looking toward the kitchen brought a rumbling to his stomach and a longing sensation for dinner.

Following close behind, Saber provided her own insight. "We should shift our tactics to become the aggressor, we have the power to take down the other parties easily."

Irritation sent the boy's brow into a furrow. "Who would we attack? We only know where two masters live: Rin and Sakura. We have a ceasefire with one and the second would be like trying to kill a cockroach."

"We can locate Caster's master."

Shirou blanched, blinked and scrunched up his face. " _Bazett?_ Besides being one hell of a fighter, if she has Caster as a servant her home base will be incredibly fortified. Territory Creation is an innate skill of any Caster."

Glaring sharply at her master, Saber softly positioned her armour-clad self over a zabuton. "Shirou, I appreciate your reluctance to bring harm to your friends, but this is not the time to play the pacifist. This is a magical war between servants and their masters to the death. At one point you will need to overcome your fears if you hope to win."

Shaking his head, Shirou ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't about winning. All we need to do is form the Greater Grail and destroy it, after that, nothing matters."

Lancer added his own voice to the conversation, attempting to be moderate in the heated exchange. "And all we need to do is kill _one_ servant, right?" Shirou agreed and the servant nodded in response. "Then I believe it would be a good idea to return to searching for a servant - any servant."

"Now we've come full circle to the initial problem. None of us know where any of the other servants are."

Saber produced a small smirk. "The solution is simple. In order to find the missing servants, we need only bring _them_ to _us_."

"I thought you said that in the last War, a servant tried the same thing and brought on five servants in total for some sort of epic battle."

"Correct," the servant nodded. "Just yesterday, the first day of the War, we had a battle between four servants. You weren't awake to witness the battle, but both of our enemies utilized a great amount of energy. Their masters are bound to be exhausted after such an expense."

Coming to the same conclusion Saber undoubtedly had, Shirou snapped his fingers and beamed at the woman in understanding. "That means those masters are likely to spend tonight recuperating, so we have an opportunity to handle one of the two remaining, unknown servants."

"Precisely. Which means either Berserker or Assassin, servants the two of us can undoubtedly handle."

… … …

… … …

Something like this couldn't be happening, it just couldn't - she wouldn't allow it. There had been a wave of power, a pulse that had no doubt been felt by every master within Fuyuki.

As soon as her servant felt that energy, he had stormed into the distance with righteous purpose, not even bothering to inform her of his leave. Or perhaps that was intentional. He had left to prevent any attempts from her end to stop him.

She had done enough to hold him back before, she could do it again - he knew that as well as she did.

Now?

It was unavoidable. The best she could hope to do would be to warn Shirou before it was too late before her servant decimated all three of them: Saber, Lancer _and_ Shirou. Rounding the corner as fast as her legs would carry her, the woman bolted down the sidewalk in the direction of her servant. If only she had been more proactive; if only the command seals had worked.

Sliding around another corner, the traction between her shoes and the concrete gave way. The girl fell hard into her side but neglected to make a noise of pain, instead deciding to stand and continue running before she was too late.

If her servant continued at this pace, he would reach the origin point of the mana pulse within three minutes. It would take her six minutes to run there. Those numbers were already mortifying. In three minutes, her servant could easily slaughter them all.

He was ruthless, he was emotionless, he was efficient. That servant terrified her to no end and she outright believed he could handle every other servant without breaking a sweat. Based on stats alone, _anyone_ would.

There were less than sixty seconds until he made it to the wave's origin.

Would praying for Shirou's salvation do anything? Would God even bother to protect him at this point? Shaking her head, the woman condemned herself for such foolish thoughts. Of course it would. If Shirou was deserving of salvation, and he undoubtedly was, he would be spared if she prayed for him.

Two minutes until she reached her destination, and she could already hear the clashing of swords. The noise was so deafening and frequent that it nearly became an unbroken string of noise.

A minute later, the girl realized that there were, in fact, _two_ separate noises blending together. Her servant was handling both Lancer and Saber, but how well he was doing was unknown.

She was close, a few seconds out. It was a straight shot from her position to the servants' battleground. It was somewhere far to the west, surrounded by trees out of the city. For the size of battle that was likely to take place, it couldn't have been in a better place. Away from prying eyes and free of potential casualties, she wouldn't have to perform any damage control if either servant released their noble phantasm.

The pavement had since given way to grass and dirt and while traction was more difficult to find, her speed wasn't affected all that much. There were bright sparks as two weapons collided, but they weren't sparks of metal. They were bright white and each one sparkled, fizzled and _popped_. It was odd, but far from a matter of concern as she leapt straight through the brush into the clearing.

There were three people fighting: A female knight in blue and silver, wielding an invisible weapon; a knight in white and gold, using a two-handed blade of similar design to his armour; and her own servant, the one clad in thin black fibers and spiked silver steel holding an ominous, radiating crimson blade. Behind the two servants, holding his own two weapons of choice, was the one she was hoping to save: Shirou.

The three had separated from their engagement for the moment, gauging one another with deadly intent. The lax in combat brought on an opportunity for all three to stare at the sudden intruder with trepidation. It wasn't the first time she had been stared at by powerful beings and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

A younger voice shouted out to her. "What are you doing here?" it asked, concerned for her rather than himself - just like he always was. "This servant is unstoppable, you need to run!"

Just as he finished speaking, the unstoppable servant in question re-engaged with his targets. Without a sound, her servant made an attack, making a wicked slash that collided with Saber's reflexively blocking sword. The contact produced a wild spray of white sparks and sent the smaller woman skidding backwards as the force rattled her entire frame.

Seamlessly, the servant moved on to handle Lancer, swinging his scarlet blade high to slam down upon the ivory blade. Unlike with Saber's weapon, the contact produced minimal, yellow-orange sparks as she would have expected. As the overhead attack rebounded off, her servant merely redoubled the strike two more times, pounding Lancer further back and straining his weapon with each brutal blow.

On the fourth attack, his weapon shattered in his hands, and the man was forced to leap back to avoid being cleaved into halves. Stumbling over the uneven ground, the servant in black made a lunging kick that slammed his heel square into Lancer's metal chest plate. There was a visceral screeching noise that was barely audible above the clanking of a knight being flung backward.

Saber cried out her master's name in worry before producing a sharp grunt and re-engaging in the fight. The rate of combat was so rapid that merely understanding what was transpiring was a challenge. The two knights were battling assuredly, but beyond that brief description, she couldn't comprehend what was taking place before her eyes.

The battle halted suddenly with the two blades locking at the hilt. The prolonged contact of their weapons produced continual, unending white sparks, almost as if each weapon was grinding constantly against the other. Gritting her teeth, the resolved Saber struggled to hold herself up against her opponent. Even as he took a slow step forward, she was unable to slow his progress. "Shirou-run! This is an opponent we cannot defeat!"

Saber held their clash as she was slowly forced further and further back. It was a tactical blunder, but as more time passed, its purpose was revealed.

From behind, the white and gold knight had moved to flank, holding a new white blade with obvious intent. For a knight in full plate mail, he was shockingly nimble and silent. The knight made eye contact with her, an enemy master and for a moment fear wracked her form. She was Berserker's master and she held his contract but that was where her ties to him ended. She gave him no mana, he sustained his form entirely independently of her.

Even if she wanted to kill him, there was no way she could. Thankfully, Lancer ignored her to put his focus entirely on her servant. Rearing his sword back, it looked as if he had the man beat. But rather than the sound of fleshy impact, another screech rang out over the trees.

Eerily, a dead silence fell onto the area. Only the sporadic continuous scraping of Berserker's and Saber's swords broke it apart. Slowly, she realized what happened. In one hand, Berserker was holding back Saber's invisible weapon. In the other, Berserker had caught Lancer's weapon with his hand. The white weapon shook with uncertainty as Berserker's grasp continued to tighten.

"What sort of vile creature are you?" Lancer growled, struggling to keep the weapon in his hands still.

"Talking in battle is superfluous," the man claimed flatly, and the blade shattered within his vice-like grip. Releasing the weapon as it shattered, Lancer prepared to make a strike but was slower than Berserker by a wide margin. Keeping their blades locked, Berserker used his greater weight and height to spin Saber around, flinging her straight into her comrade.

The angle and speed meant that there was no way for Lancer to catch the other servant and stand upright himself. With a clatter, the two landed on the ground in a small pile.

Just as she had been dreading. Berserker trained his sights on Shirou and walked toward him ominously. There was no doubt in her mind, her servant would slaughter him as if he were an insignificant gnat.

Shockingly, Shirou's face held no sign of fear. In fact, the boy appeared resolved, as if he understood his death was approaching and was entirely content with the outcome that awaited him. It came as a violent shock when the boy raised both weapons and deflected the first blow from Berserker.

Rather than try to absorb the impact and retaliate, Shirou hopped backward, using the force to create distance between the two. With the two emerald blades poised for the next strike, Berserker tensed, the perfect moment for her to act.

With a flick of the wrist, the scarf around her neck was unfurled, snapping idly as mana flowed through its fibres. Flinging the article forward, it elongated like a living whip, wrapping around Berserker's torso and tightening autonomously.

Like the man had been converted to stone, every minute motion stopped instantaneously. It was almost as if time itself had stopped for the servant.

As he was frozen, Saber and Lancer managed to recover themselves and were quickly on the move to take advantage of the situation. With a loud cry, Berserker's master gathered their ears.

Desperation evident in her voice, the girl explained. "Should you attack him, he'll be released from the shroud. I beg you, this is the best I can do to keep him from killing Shirou."

Stillness passed for a few seconds before Shirou told the two servants to hold on for the time being. "I know her, she would never lie about something like this."

Saber was far from accommodating. "Shirou, she is an enemy master, this has to be some type of deceit to let our guard down!"

Shirou shook his head, a relief to the girl holding back his sure death. "With this servant, I don't think deceit is necessary. Even though you can't see his stats as I can, you have to realize from the sheer power that this is a servant leagues above...wait a minute, enemy master?"

Nobody answered the boy and the two servants started their own conversation. "My liege, Berserkers aren't known to speak, are they?" The servant's brow tightened and Lancer quickly explained his question. "I do not know of any assassins that wield a sword, let alone one with dragon-slaying aspects." Lancer's comment made his supposed king twitch.

"Dragon-slaying aspect? So that is why…" she trailed off, latching her eyes onto the blood-red blade pointed in Shirou's direction.

The boy, still holding onto two emerald blades, focused on the enemy master. "So you're a master? Of all the people, I didn't expect it to be you, Caren."

… … …

Tree branches creaked and groaned softly under the shifting, dense weight. It was not isolated to one tree, but rather several across the entire grove.

A hollow voice as cracked and old as the very trees around them spoke. "Two dragons now."

A snicker, a soft scrape of metal on course stone. "Both ferocious in their own right, but one is lacking something treasured."

"A blade? One holds nothing but the wind."

The impact of flesh responded clearly over the wind. "Look closer, fool. See there? A hole."

A much lighter but equally raspy voice chimed in. "The contractor holds it on their behalf, right under their nose."

There was a group-wide grumble of anger before a voice claimed, "Vile. Even with a knight beside the Dragon of Wind, the Dragon of Blood is sure to win should the hole remain empty."

"A dragon which kills dragons," a voice commented, eliciting a wave of laughter from their compatriots. "We have sent a fool, the Dragon of Blood spared no expense in his defeat."

"Precisely why the Dragon of Wind and the contractor have equal chances of victory." Another wave of echoing laughter trickled through the trees.

"Resigned to watch, unable to act."

"Idle hands are the devil's playthings."

"Bold to assume we would allow the devil to play with us."

"We have seen all the opponents have to offer. There is no need to remain. Perhaps we can investigate or kill the maiden of crystals this night."

Several branches creaked simultaneously and blue eyes littered the darkened areas between the trees. "One can remain, the patient. Allow us to watch while we conduct ourselves elsewhere."

… … …

There was a nagging, tugging sensation that brought Shirou's eyes to the treeline. He didn't see anything immediately but was almost certain that he saw something blue flicker in the darkness. Blinking, the boy pushed aside the thoughts that told him he was being watched to focus on the threat at hand.

Even frozen on the spot, he was still an intimidating sight. While only five foot ten - three inches shorter than Shirou himself - the ominous appearance of his attire more than made up for his average stature. Shirou had always thought that servants were heroes of legend from years long past, but the servant before him wore incredibly modern-looking attire.

He wore all black, with silver segments bolted on and strapped together to provide additional armour plating and protection to various integral parts of his body. It started at the head, where his entire face was shielded from harm by a unique, ominous-looking mask that had both horns and illuminated blue lenses over the eyes. Both of his arms in their entirety, his shoulders, neck, portions of his chest and underarms along with his shins were covered. For pauldrons, the servant had wickedly spiked metal spires that jutted out at awkward angles. It was as protective as it was eye-gouging, but it served his menacing motif. Holsters for unknown objects were strapped to his thighs, but the only object attached to them was a mere scabbard for a short sword.

Speaking of swords, his main weapon was something incredible. Standing upright it was the same height as the man who used it, with a bladed end acting as the pommel. The material forming the blades portions was crimson, with an almost glass-like appearance. The surface glowed a pale light of the same colour. Shirou hardly needed to even trace the weapon to know that it was demonic, but that was what his trace revealed anyway. It was a weapon wielded by two separate people over two thousand years ago, which came as a blatant surprise in comparison to the armour the man wore. It was such a conflicting sight that Shirou had no clue as to what era he was from.

 _Gram_ , a demonic sword of glory and ruin. It was equal if not superior to the divine construct that was Excalibur, but it had also been bestowed with a dragon-slaying ability that both Saber and Lancer had picked up on. Considering Lancelot had a legend surrounding Lancer's dragon-slaying sword and Saber being part dragon herself, their familiarity was to be expected.

It also explained why Saber was trembling. While slight and imperceptible to most, it was readily apparent to him that her body just couldn't control itself. After looking into his stats as a servant, Shirou was amazed he could stand without shaking himself.

How could a servant have A double-plus stats? What sort of strength and endurance would parameters like that even result in? He could shatter a C-rank noble phantasm with his bare hands, but he had yet to even take a single strike to his body. Would projections even tickle?

The rest of his stats were more reminiscent of a Lancer than a Berserker. A rank agility, C rank mana and E rank luck. Most surprisingly was another A-plus-plus rank ability: his noble phantasm.

"I can't hold him forever, this shroud has its own mana drain and it's starting to wear out." The surprisingly emotional voice of a very familiar priestess brought the boy from his muses.

"If your goal is to avoid killing Shirou, why have you not used a command seal?" Saber was quick to ask. It was a good question, but Shirou had the feeling that if she _could_ , Caren would have tried it already.

"This isn't a normal servant, I have no control as his master." The priestess was in an entirely different outfit that coincided with her changed personality. Instead of heavy robes, she wore tight black attire that was still refined and elegant looking while leaving little of her body shape to the imagination. It revealed no skin, making use of leggings and form-fitting clothing to preserve every ounce of her modesty.

Shirou furrowed his brow. Caren was being uncharacteristically emotive, entirely unlike how he knew her to be. "So you can't stop him from trying to kill me and you can't even order him to kill himself since command seals don't work," Shirou summarized. "Saber, use your noble phantasm-"

There was a sharp clank before an irate voice reached his ears. "Shirou, you cannot be serious. You would have me degrade myself in such a way in front of an enemy master?"

That comment had been a blunder. He had entirely forgotten a quintessential part of Saber's character: her honour. Unless the enemy was outwardly vile, Saber wouldn't unleash her blade on command to outright kill someone. She wanted a "fair fight" where her opponent was on equal footing. Shirou thought that it was incredibly stupid, but trying to fight her on the point wouldn't do much. "You might be right. This Berserker can speak, perhaps he's willing to fight you both squarely." Shirou already knew the answer to his hypothesis and it certainly wasn't that. "But I wasn't aware that knights battled their opponents two-on-one," Shirou accused.

Saber merely nodded. "If the enemy refuses to so much as introduce themselves, there is no possibility of a duel, but fighting with honour is still mandatory."

"Tactically, our master has pointed out the most sound decision. However, as knights, we will not deface ourselves again an opponent of such skill." Moving to Berserker's other side, Lancer maintained a ready position as if the servant would break free at any moment.

"You have to run," Caren murmured, staring at him with wide, serious eyes. "He'll kill you all, you need to get out of here while you still can."

Looking between her and her uncontrollable servant, Shirou made a decision. "We're leaving. We've gained enough information to make this worthwhile and we can regroup to try a new strategy next time.

The projected sword in Lancer's hands lowered partly. He watched Saber intently, waiting for guidance from his king. Rather than lower her weapon, the woman took a few steps backwards while still eyeing her former opponent.

They were prepared to leave; in fact, they were leaving. There was a sudden soft whistling before a loud metal grating and fleshy impact. Shirou had blinked and missed the entire action, but when his vision returned, he spotted a crimson blade embedded in Lancer's hip. Somehow, Berserker had broken free from the shroud without a single warning. Caren herself even seemed surprised since she looked over the fabric as if it had betrayed her.

Based on the angle of the blade, it had been deflected from its true target and had likely spared Lancer's life. Regardless, it was still a devastating wound and it had been entirely unprecedented.

Rather than try to remain and fight, Lancer grit his teeth and kicked away from the other servant, disappearing into spirit form when there was some distance between them. Realizing their situation, Shirou quickly turned and shifted his reinforcement to his legs. Not only were they unprepared to deal with such a force, but their forces had also been effectively halved with a single strike.

Mentally informing Saber to cover his retreat, the boy exploded from the clearing to dart between the trees heading back into Fuyuki. Once he got into the city, he could abuse his knowledge of the streets and hopefully dissuade the servant from causing undue harm to civilians.

 _Could this night get any worse?_

… … …

… … …

A steaming teacup made the soft ceramic clatter as it settled onto its plate. Missy's hand uncoiled from the handle to grip the other side of an open book, offering her better handling. " _Le Morte D'Arthur_ ," or the "Death of Arthur." It was a blatantly fictitious rendition of King Arthur Pendragon's demise. While the historical accuracy was passable, they had gotten the king's very sex wrong.

She was alone, tasked with watching over the front door as well as the surrounding area. She had been given a sniper rifle and a small engraved flat rock for the job. The reason for the rifle was obvious, the rock less so. Kiritsugu had established a bounded field, one unique enough to be practically undetectable by normal magi. The only downside was the requirement of an external signal system, hence the engraved flat rock.

While Missy knew little of magecraft, she had a good memory for explanations. Kiritsugu had told her months ago that the reason typical bounded fields were so easy to detect was due to the definite link between the magus and their field. While providing an immediate warning of intruders, it also tied the magus directly to their craft. It was a small tradeoff, but an easily exploitable one.

Missy had no idea what that all meant, but if her mentor decided this was the best way to do something, she wasn't going to argue. She didn't argue when he gifted her with anti-magus weaponry, or when he provided her with a slim tactical rig and thigh holster for various forms of equipment, and she wasn't planning on arguing in the future either. Many occasions had revealed to her that Kiritsugu _always_ worked three steps ahead of everyone. If he decided that she needed high explosive grenades, smoke canisters and thermal imaging scopes then she needed all three.

Turning a page in her book, the girl collected her tea for another sip while her hand was active. It might have been counterintuitive to read while supposedly on watch, though she had proven her ability to multitask before.

Her ears picked up a rustling on the wind from the trees below. It was subtle but definite and her eyes quickly latched onto the point of origin to search for an intruder. The rock hadn't done anything, so if someone _had_ breached their defences, it was likely to be a servant capable of deception: Assassin.

After watching the spot for a moment, Missy realized that it was merely a squirrel leaping across some branches. Relaxing, the woman returned to her book and tea.

Her time with Kiritsugu had been interesting. It felt less like she was being trained and more like she was reacquiring forgotten skills. Shooting firearms, martial arts and taking lives all felt natural after the first time.

Setting aside her beverage and book, Missy carefully wrapped one hand around the handle of a deceivingly heavy rifle to scan the perimeter through the scope. Releasing a soft, chilled breath after finding nothing, the woman returned to her book.

She had defeated her mentor in a spar only twice. The first, when he was fighting as a normal human and underestimated her speed, and the second when he was using magecraft and she took advantage of his aged knees. She had never even gotten _close_ to defeating Shirou. The boy surpassed her easily in all facets including cunning tactics. It was interesting and pleasing to see a boy develop to be stronger than his teacher, but disturbing and depressing to know that his life would inevitably mimic his father's. A life of loss and difficult dilemmas with no positive outcome.

Depending on the outcome of this war, it was possible that such an outcome would merely be accelerated tenfold. From what she knew, most of the enemy masters happened to be Shirou's friends. Killing his friends or saving the world. Many had made such a choice in the past and some of those very same were destroyed by it later in life.

A rustling sounded over the treetops again, though from a different direction than before. Leaning forward to listen closely, Missy made note of several other sounds: shifting gravel, crunching leaves, snapping twigs and soft rhythmic metal tapping. Setting down the book in her hand, the woman quickly moved the rifle to point in the general direction of the noise. Peering through the scope, she found nothing, but the noises continued.

Releasing a controlled breath, the woman rescanned the area and caught something white shuffling beneath the leafy canopy. Before she could determine what it was exactly, the flat stone near her began to vibrate and a strange symbol pulsed in red upon its surface.

Gritting her teeth, the woman refocused on her target at the end of the scope. That spot of white had been far behind the bounded field. Someone _else_ had entered at the same time she spotted a new intruder.

Searching for a few more seconds got her an answer, but that answer also brought questions. There were two women out there, marching behind one another in righteous determination. The woman at the end of her weapon seemed too perfect _not_ to be artificial. Porcelain white skin, sublime facial features and ominous crimson eyes that stood out from the darkness. Like their faces, each one wore outfits that reminded Missy of old World War nurses: Flat, simple and entirely devoid of personality.

They reminded Missy of Illya all too much and that brought a moment of hesitation to her next move. Tracking her target in the scope, the girl progressively squeezed the trigger until it surprised her by firing; just as she had been taught. As quickly as she could blink, a hole appeared in the center of the first's chest, but the woman did not fall. Behind the scope, Missy's eyes widened as the heartless being remained upright and started sprinting forward.

As the fledgling assassin prepared to take another shot, the woman's body collapsed in a twisted heap. So they required their heart to survive but not to function and they would fight through critical wounds.

The other woman had started running at the sound of gunfire and she had passed the point where Missy could accurately fire at her.

Unable to see any more, the girl leapt from her seat and through the tower doorway to get to Kiritsugu. As he had a detection stone of his own, he would already know of possible intruders. Her job would be to stand beside him and aid in the defence of the castle however she could.

Taking the stairs two at a time, the girl quickly made it to the second floor where she carried on down the hall toward Illya's room. Her first priority was to ensure her safety, in case Kiritsugu hadn't already. She was barely there halfway before the echoes of gunshots rang out from somewhere else within the castle. It was quickly followed by the rapid clanging of metal, though no cries of pain or struggle were heard.

The woman leapt overtop of an armed tripwire, saving her entire lower body from being blown off by an explosive trap. Almost on cue, an explosion shook the castle. Based on the sound, it was on the opposite side of the main entrance, meaning that whoever was attempting to break in knew the castle layout enough to note secondary entrances.

Reaching to her hip holster for a pistol, her fingers danced across the knife Kiritsugu had gifted her. The brief contact sent tingling jolts of electricity through her hand, forcing her attention to its surface. The steel held a faint blue aura that hovered partly above its surface. It was supposed to detect magecraft, mainly through the contact of blood; so why was it reacting to the air?

Snapping her head upright, the woman spotted another one of those white-haired nurses. The one in front had their hand extended in her direction and strange symbols were forming at her palm. Eyes widening, Missy quickly collapsed her legs so she could slide along the floor. She had done it just in time, as something brilliant in blue whizzed past her head and tickled her scalp. As soon as the projectile passed, the girl used her tucked leg and weight to pop back up onto her feet and continue running. She was only two doors down from Illya's room, but entering now would make the enemy aware as well.

Snapping both arms upright, Missy took aim and made note that the woman at the end of the hall didn't even appear surprised. In fact, her eyes and face held a hollow, vacant expression.

Even as the bullet left the barrel and struck her forehead, the woman - no, the creature, collapsed to the floor with an eerie emptiness. Reaching the door to Illya's room, Missy halted herself and checked the area to ensure she was alone. Thankfully only one of those things had managed to reach the second floor, but it was anyone's guess as to how many were crawling around.

Missy opened the door, quickly darted within and silently closed it behind her. Turning on her heels, the girl ensured that Illya was in fact inside and knelt at her front. "Miss Einzbern, you must hide yourself within this room. The castle is under attack by an unknown force."

"What about-"

"Your father is fine," Missy claimed, knowing Illya's question in advance. Placing her empty hand on the smaller girl's shoulder, the fledgling assassin restated her orders. "Please hide within this room, your safety is absolutely paramount."

Nodding with obvious worry, Missy refocused on the door. Would it be best to barricade it now, or defend the exterior and wait for Kiritsugu? Opening the door in answer to her own question, the woman stepped out into the hall and moved down to another door to deceive potential intruders. She had reached a sudden dilemma. Did she stand at a known location and wait for her mentor, or attempt to seek him out and provide aid where she could?

It was a difficult decision either way, but the gunshots would be difficult to follow in the echoing halls of the castle. She was sure to be discovered by Kiritsugu here and after killing that one thing, more were likely to appear. From behind, the direction she had initially come from, running footsteps echoed against the stone. Turning and raising her weapon in one motion, Missy spotted her mentor.

Both of his arms and large portions of his coat were splattered in fresh blood and he was heavily panting. It was good to see him, but the three albino figures on his tail were far less inviting. There was no way for her to get a shot off with him in the way, but he was quickly approaching a deadly tripwire. She was worried he had forgotten about it for a moment, but a cleverly placed stumble moved both his feet over it without giving it away.

He shouted at her to move and held no intention of stopping himself. Not bothering to argue, Missy turned on the spot and sprinted in the same direction as her mentor. As planned, an explosion sent a blast wave that struck her back and shook the entire hallway. She stumbled to recover her balance before turning to ensure that her mentor hadn't been caught in the blast.

He was safe, thankfully, though he was thoroughly exhausted. Giving him more than a cursory glance, she made a mental note of several cuts across his body and a particularly nasty-looking gash at hip level. He seemed to be trying extremely hard not to make a personal note of it, but it absolutely required immediate care.

He immediately asked if Illya was safe all while boring holes through her head with a dreading expression. "Miss Einzbern is safe within her room. Kiritsugu, exactly what sort of enemy is attacking? I've killed two of what I believe to be the same identical person."

"They're true Einzbern homunculi," he explained flatly. "Acht undoubtedly knows the Grail War is taking place and this just shows that he was planning on intervening from the very start." The man made a pained inhale while pressing one hand to the bleeding wound on his torso.

"Sir, you've been injured, you need to-"

"I'll be fine," he passed off, though his tone indicated anything but. "Looks like they've breached the rear door as well. Have you seen any others besides the two you killed?"

"I've seen three in total, two outside. How many can we expect?"

The man looked down both directions of the hall. "It's been a decade since I last diminished their supply, so anywhere from ten to two hundred depending on how determined they are."

Biting the inside of her lip, Missy cautiously checked the hallways again. "How long do we have to prepare?"

Acting as her answer, another explosion shook the castle from the opposite side. Grimacing, the Magus Killer pulled his hand from his wound and examined the blood as if it were special. "How long has it been since they entered the bounded field?"

Something shifted behind him and Missy snapped both arms upright. Missy didn't even hesitate, though her mentor did twist away from the pistol to avoid having his ears blown out from the gunfire. With a sharp snap, the bullet was fired to strike center-mass in her target. It had landed an inch off the mark, so she quickly let loose a second round that found its mark in the homunculus' heart.

"Are we holding positions here?"

"Negative. I'll remain here while you fortify the front end. Their main assault will be from there." He paused to make a pained noise and shift past her, replacing his hand on his injury. "Three doors down on the left I've left a rifle and sling with ammunition. I've put them behind the door in the corner, use them."

Nodding obediently, the woman followed orders by jogging down the hall, collecting the dropped rifle from the indicated room and setting up to defend the front entrance. At least, she would have, if she hadn't encountered an entire group of identical beings along the way. The majority of those she saw were using medieval-type weaponry of various styles she couldn't hope to name. There weren't any firearms, but projectiles were _definitely_ being flung in her direction, some type of magecraft that she couldn't be bothered to describe more than labelling it as a threat.

Struggling to keep herself from injury, the woman used the spacious hallways to her advantage. Her dodging destabilized her aim and sent stray rounds into non-critical points. Although, wasting several bullets to save her own life was something she considered a necessary sacrifice. Holding the metaphorical line for five minutes, it became rapidly apparent that there was no end of reinforcements in sight. She had killed two dozen during that time but it hadn't even made a dent in their forces and she was on her last magazine in the rifle. Her dwindling stamina and the increasing number of fake humans meant she was using three shots to kill a single one.

With ten rounds left in her final magazine, the hot weapon jammed spontaneously. The shock between the lack of recoil and the failure to down an enemy sent a bolt of some type of magecraft into her shoulder.

Searing pain coursed through her form and her entire left arm felt as if it were simultaneously covered in flames and being crushed by a hydraulic press. Involuntarily, she released a sharp cry of pain. Reeling from the impact, Missy let the rifle fall loosely at her hips by the sling and focused on holding her balance. The line had fallen, she couldn't keep up with her enemy.

Darting to the side to avoid another bolt of energy, Missy turned on her heels and bolted back in the direction where she came. Her deadened left arm swayed limply at her side while her still functioning arm darted down to a cylindrical grenade tied to her rig. Without the use of her left arm, she had to get creative to pull the pin. A common myth was that it could be pulled easily using one's teeth. She happened to value and respect her teeth quite a lot, so that option was out. On the wall were hanging brass light fixtures that luckily featured curved jutting pieces. Darting her head back to ensure that she wasn't in danger, Missy narrowly avoided two more projectiles before she reached a fixture.

Holding the circular pin out with her fingers, the girl snagged a barb and yanked on the cylinder to dislodge the pin. The motion was silent, but the spoon dislodging from its seat was more than audible. Carelessly, the woman lobbed the canister behind her and made a sharp turn into the long stretch to Illya's room.

At the far end of the hall, six additional bodies were piled onto the one she had originally killed. Each of them held this perplexing, vacant gaze. There wasn't enough life in each shell originally to consider that look _lifeless_. A better description would be _hollow_ as if there wasn't any sense of humanity in them to lose. Something equally as confusing was the lack of Kiritsugu. He was supposed to be defending the rear entrance by remaining in this hall, but he was nowhere to be found.

Trying not to let the thought bother her, a large explosion sounded from behind, blasting a wave of heat against her back and silencing the noise of dozens of footfalls on cold stone. It was almost a surprise that half the castle hadn't collapsed on account of how many explosives were being used. Passing one junction in the hall, Missy felt her body start screaming for oxygen. She had been running near non-stop since she left the top of her tower and it was getting to her rapidly. Her stamina would last until she reached Illya's room but no further. Her room was one junction away, a few seconds at her current rate.

Something hot and blue whizzed past her face, singing her cheek and startling her greatly. Snapping her head back to take note of her incoming opponents, she witnessed at least a dozen individuals trying to cram their way down a hall at once. Those in front had received particularly nasty burns and several shrapnel marks from her earlier attack. One was missing their entire arm and portions of their neck but was still sprinting forward with an empty expression.

Passing the junction, a soft clank diverted her attention to the side. Two of those creatures stood there, obviously waiting for her. One specifically stood out from the others. This one crossed their arms and held a look of disgust, more human than Missy had come to expect. The other maintained an oddly sorrowful expression but their eyes were still equally as empty as the others.

Their features were trivial to the weapon being jabbed at her. With more speed than she could even react to, something blunt but pointed slammed into her hips, blasting her off her feet.

There was a second where she comprehended what was transpiring, but the stone wall on the opposite side of the hall came quickly and her vision went dark once her head slammed into it.

… … …

"Trace on," he murmured to the night. Twitching as pain coursed through his body, the boy took a shaky inhale and calmed his muscles. The nerve conversion process never got any less painful regardless of how many times he did it. He had expected to gather a resistance after doing hundreds, but he wasn't so lucky. His body had learned to resist all pain _except_ nerve-circuit making.

Reaching out to grasp the ephemeral blade of a weapon that existed in his mind, its shape moved from internalized wireframe to picture-perfect reality. Of course, it wasn't a perfect projection, but its appearance was indecipherable as usual. Compared to the original, the projection in his hand was barely eighty percent exact.

Sighing, the boy carelessly threw the weapon deeper into the shed. Before it could cause any damage, it vanished in a splash of blue-gold sparks. It seemed that the colours had reached equilibrium at least. They had been gradually becoming bluer with each attempt at unlocking his reality marble but now, nearly a perfect fifty-fifty split, the growth had stagnated.

Shutting his eyes tight to concentrate, Shirou projected something he would rather forget. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a single bullet held firm between his fingers. 30-06 Springfield with an ivory-coloured tip.

Clenching the deadly weapon and his teeth, the boy watched his father murder countless magi with identical bullets. While each bullet was its own individual conceptual weapon, they all originated from a single point that tied them together.

 _Sympathizing with the experience of its growth_.

Each time he brought up the blueprint for Origin Rounds, he was forced to relive his father's greatest transgressions vividly enough to have trouble differentiating his father's memories from his own. It was a visceral experience that likely came about due to his personal connection to the man himself.

Origin Rounds, along with the other favoured firearms used by his father, all produced similar visions but none were as gruesome as the Rounds themselves. Each magus they were used against suffered unspeakable agony until their execution shortly after. To think that a man he would honestly claim to look up to would harbour a power so vile was still gut-wrenching.

Violently throwing the bullet into the darkness, Shirou gripped at the sides of his head and forced the memories that weren't his own from his skull. Was he destined to become something like that? Did the ends truly justify the means?

Taking a shaky inhale, Shirou assured himself that no, no they didn't. Sacrificing one for the many meant little to him if the one being sacrificed was important. At the same time, he wanted, no, he _needed_ to save as many as he could. The conflicting ideologies met headlong, clashing in his skull to bring about a pounding pain.

Hopefully, he would never have to make a choice like that, but something nagging in his mind told him to be prepared for it, to expect it.

Feeling mentally exhausted, the boy decided that his meagre training was enough for tonight. They had challenged Berserker and lost horribly two-on-one, Lancer had been gravely injured and Saber had taken a healthy chomp out of his mana during their retreat. It would be a miracle if they were ready by tomorrow night. By then, the other masters would be fully restored and prepared to fight. It was a nasty combination to be sure.

Stretching languidly with an excessive yawn, the boy absently scratched at an itch on his back. Their battle had been short, but Shirou could see that Berserker was their greatest threat. A servant like that had been the exact reason why he wanted to pair together with another master. With a third servant and a second master he would be a force strong enough to make everyone hear his words, a _big stick ideology_.

Trying to claim the Grail as some twisted anti-hero aiming for the destruction of humanity in his current state would come across as outright insane and laughable. If only he could convince _one_ of his former friends.

Clenching both fists tight in frustration over his predicament, the boy stepped up into his darkened home, spotting Saber's brilliant emerald eyes gleaming at him through the night from the dining room.

"You haven't slept since last night. I do hope you plan on sleeping through the day." Saber's voice was much softer than he had expected, soft enough to make him feel guilty for not getting a decent night's rest.

Absently scratching a spontaneous itch on his arm, the boy shuffled awkwardly in place. "I don't think we'll be ready for a fight tomorrow."

The servant frowned, a sight that was visible despite the dim light. With how bright they were, her own eyes practically radiated light. "Speak for yourself. While Lancer may be forced to recover from his injuries, I was more than capable of fighting on my own."

"Saber, I don't know if I have the mana to support you in another fight," he admitted without a hint of embarrassment. He knew his reserves were pitiful, it was a fact he had come to accept over time. Unlike other magi, however, his could get better if he continued converting his nerves.

"That will not pose a problem." The statement brought nothing but confusion and Shirou let his face show as much while the king merely placed one hand on her chest. "My own reserves are more than capable of sustaining my form during combat. I can minimize the draw I have on you and join a possible battle without worry."

With her mana situation already handled, he had no reason to deny her from fighting. "Well in that case-"

The room was illuminated by a sudden spray of blue sparks that revealed the struggling form of Lancelot. The debilitating wound had been surprisingly less hazardous than Shirou would have guessed. Illya's absolutely ridiculous mana supply meant that his armour was renewed to be pristine as soon as it was damaged and the wound was mostly restored merely hours since the encounter. While still not fighting-fit, he could take on an opponent in a pinch.

"Shirou," the man directed with a voice full of panic. It immediately sent both Saber and Shirou on edge and the two awaited his message. "My master has sent a distress call asking for reinforcements."

Shirou's eyes widened partly. She was in trouble? If it was a force Kiritsugu and Missy couldn't deal with, it had to be a servant. "Which servant is it?"

"It's not a servant. I was given a message to tell you as well: _The Einzbern's found us_ , though I am unsure as to what it means." Shirou's eyes couldn't have widened further and immediately the boy lunged down to the hall toward his room.

Sliding into his room, Shirou connected to Saber through their contract. " _Saber, get the motorbikes and move them out front._ "

Receiving a simple agreement, the boy carelessly grabbed his coat and muddled over what else he might need. If the Einzbern's sent homunculi, they were definitely armed and he would likely be injured wearing nothing.

The suit that Kiritsugu had gotten him had been destroyed and while he could project a new one, that would take up more mana than he was prepared to part with. Looking up, the boy spotted a familiar dark outfit hanging on the back of his door.

He wasn't entirely out of options at least.

* * *

 **I love writing. The fact that, after writing thousands of words intimately describing and relating a character to the reader, I can take it all away in a single unexpected moment is so satisfying.**

 **Who, you might ask?**

 **Well that's part of the unexpected part, isn't it? Or will it even transpire in the first place? Aristophanes or Sophocles after all.**

 **As always, favourite, follow and write a review: I enjoy each and every one of them.**


	26. A Step Into the Other Side

**I wanted to release this on Christmas.**

 **I wanted it to be a gift but I wasn't fast enough, unfortunately. I tried to get it finished but ended up finishing on like the 22nd and by then, Talndir my wonderful beta didn't have the time/didn't want to proof it over Christmas. It's much less his fault as I can understand his unwillingness and it's far more my fault for being so slow - Sorry guys!**

 **But it's here regardless and I do hope you enjoy. Just for your troubles, I've made this chapter the longest chapter yet, just a smidge over 30,000 words with ANs!**

* * *

Hardly more than a day prior, Shirou had wanted Saber to slow down so that they wouldn't wind up dead before reaching their destination. Now, with a looming threat on his mind, Saber couldn't drive fast enough. Both servants had re-collected their bikes and Shirou latched on as a passenger on the back of Saber's once more. Even though the bike was being pushed to its limit, Shirou still felt that it was too slow, that each second was one moment closer to hurting his family.

It took four hours to travel to the castle by walking through the thick forest. Driving to a road that came close cut that down to two and a magically enhanced all-out sprint would trim it further to twenty minutes or less, a time which still felt excessive. They would have been able to drive the entire way to the castle, but the pavement off the main road dropped off and turned into a thin dirt path that was practically impassable for high-performance motorbikes.

At the dirt path, the two servants hid their motorbikes while Shirou got a head start on running toward his destination. He had been to the Einzbern castle before, twice in fact. It hadn't been for any reason other than personal. Kiritsugu's journal had scorched the location into his mind, but the boy had visited the site on his own if only to see where his father had once fought for his life. As far as Shirou knew, it was long abandoned by the Einzberns and had been left in a state of total disrepair since the Fourth War.

As the castle came into view, Shirou confirmed that little had changed since his last visit. Beyond the overgrown vegetation and dusty exterior, the castle was in admittedly alright shape when considered that it survived a battle between servants and masters. Portions of the halls - especially those around the central courtyard - were the only areas in a state of disrepair. Several holes had been made as if something had exploded outwards from within. It was easy to tell since each gaping hole scattered debris out into the forest.

While he had visited twice, Shirou neglected to actually enter and examine the interior. For some inexplicable reason, the mere sight of what most would call ruins gave him strange nightmares he couldn't remember.

"Shirou, if your sister is in trouble, it would be best to locate her immediately," Saber interrupted.

Blinking back into reality, Shirou scanned the perimeter once and continued forward toward the main doors. "Secure the exterior, then find a way inside. I'll go through the front and find where Illya and the old man have gone," he ordered. Obeying his demands, the two servants diligently set out to their objective. Lancer was still wounded, but he had certified before they left the house that he was more than capable of handling another servant again, let alone a human. Not wanting to pass up additional help and lacking the time to argue, Shirou let him join.

Moving toward the main entrance, Shirou paused just outside to examine the door comprehensively. Built of solid, dense wood, it was built to survive quite a siege if required. That durability only applied when a bounded field was supporting it, however. Before touching the handle, he paused to look down at his own glove-covered hands. They were nostalgic in a way, harkening back to arguably easier times just a few years back. If either Lectra or Luvia saw him in this outfit, they'd know he was Blade in an instant. It was an unfortunately necessary risk. His customized suit was the only combat-ready outfit he had that also offered some defensive capabilities. Anything was better than wearing a simple jacket but the runed outfit was the best option by far.

Forming fists, the boy shoved his body shoulder-first against the door, finding it would not give so much as an inch. Expression souring, the boy reared back a reinforced leg and planted a booted foot dead center between the door. Eliciting an incredible cracking noise, the large doors were violently forced open with a loud cracking noise. The doors had been barred from the inside. Kiritsugu wouldn't do something like that, so who had?

The double doors created an echoing bang as they collided with the walls on either side, but the sight that met Shirou on the other end was what really concerned him. There were more than a half dozen people within, all mostly identical to one another. Each one wore flowing ivory dresses and strange concealing hats of conversely cheap material. They all had glaring crimson eyes and sharp, elegant features that glared at him in collective monotony. The differences between them all were minor: hip and bust size, thickness and width of the lips and length of eyelashes just to name a few. As if someone had tried half-heartedly to break up the uniformity, each dress had small patches of colour at the bust, forehead and beneath the ivory dress itself. The attempt was clearly half-hearted because the colours only varied from navy blue to black.

Uncanny appearance and similarities to a fully-grown Illya aside, Shirou couldn't help but notice the massive array of weaponry suddenly being pointed in his direction. Halberds, spears, swords and other types of medieval weaponry all of which were much too large for a normal human to wield competently.

If he hadn't been able to realize that they were all homunculi, Rin would have been right to call him an idiot all the time. Stumbling on his feet, Shirou chanted his two simple words so that he could summon decent weaponry into his hands; Elizabeth's blades as usual. There had been a moment of hesitation as he considered killing them all. That brief question of morality faded away once he reminded himself that they weren't human, they weren't like his sister. They were hollow shells without personalities to speak of and there was no consequence in killing them.

He knew enough about homunculi to understand that those designed for combat were incredibly simple in the mind. Emotions and complex rational thought were discarded, deemed unnecessary to make them perfect to act as grunts for mindless war or protection. Disgusting as such a condition was, it happened and there was nothing Shirou could do to stop it.

Like a well-oiled machine, the homunculi advanced in unison to force him from the main entrance. Three bladed weapons were swung at him simultaneously. Rather than try to defend, Shirou leapt backwards into the chilling evening air outside.

Huffing out a cloud of breath, he made a mental note of how many streamed from the door, preparing to take him on as a combined unit. The total count was eight, far more people than he had ever taken on at once. With trained efficiency, the eight formed a tight circle around him. He was at a blatant disadvantage and it wasn't merely in number. Their long polearm weapons were able to keep him at a distance. In order to make a strike against one, he would need to advance through a guard and that brought with it the risk of being piled upon by the others.

Trying to keep his eyes on all of his enemies at once, Shirou formed weapons in his mind. Leaving them dormant but ready meant he could react with projectiles when needed but didn't have to expend any unnecessary mana. He had to make each projection count or else he ran the risk of draining his mana reserves. As a master, a large portion of his mana reserves were constantly being devoted to keeping Saber within the world. When she started fighting, the hungry servant used even more. Wasting so much as a single projectile had a chance to spell his death later on.

There was a soft noise from over his right shoulder that demanded a quick snap of the head. A homunculus wielding a large sword was making a sharp chop, already swinging her weapon downward to cleave him in two. Shuffling out of range of the attack, Shirou focused on the closest homunculus who was preparing to gorge him with a spear. Using the blade in his right hand, he deftly caught the shaft of the weapon between his guard. Abusing the fulcrum he created, the boy trapped her weapon against his hip, projected a blade above his head and fired it at the homunculi within the same instance. Without a weapon to defend herself, the best she could do was lift her hands up and shield her vital organs - but her reflexes neglected to do even that properly. The blade struck diagonally, entering at her collarbone and skewering whatever internal organs the Einzberns had decided to form within.

Alarms went off in Shirou's mind and bounded off the inside of his skull. Twisting on the spot, the glint of a halberd caught his eye and his body reacted to move out of the way on its own. Halfway through the maneuver, Shirou realized that the homunculi were much faster than he had expected. The weighted blade jarred his entire upper body as it grazed his shoulder at an acute angle. Thanks to the rune-protected suit from Bazett, his arm wasn't removed from its socket, but he did receive a nasty slice that almost skimmed a chunk clear off. Hissing audibly, the boy had no time to collect himself as a rush of air snapped his head upward.

Both blades were brought up to stop a glaive from splitting his head like a melon. Straining to deal with the surprisingly powerful blow, Shirou bent at the legs and forced the weapon off his guard, ducking low to avoid a stabbing spear that aimed to pierce his good shoulder. He had many options, but the very first that came to mind was tossed out immediately due to Saber.

Had he no worry of his reserves, he could have projected the bō gained during his time from the Magus Tournament. There was a theory that he had wanted to test for some time but if it worked as intended, the mana draw would be too much to be practical in this exact situation.

On to the second option then: There was another mystic code he had access to that would work and unlike the bō, it would have a minimal mana cost associated with it. Dematerializing the blade in his right hand, a new weapon took its place in almost the same instance. It was long, manipulatable and composed of interlocking steel segments.

With a rising spin from his position near the ground, the weapon - a steel whip - was flung around within the circle of homunculi. As it gained speed, the entire surface of the weapon spontaneously erupted in bright red flame. The first woman in its path was caught off guard by the surprise tactic and was unable to stop it from colliding with her face. The impact alone was enough to crack her skull if not break her neck completely. Coming out of his spin with the whip, the boy let it fly from his grasp, flinging the weapon haphazardly toward the remaining homunculi. Not expecting him to forfeit his weapon so easily, two women were caught up and sent sprawling by the deceivingly heavy weapon.

With two dead and two out of the fight for a moment, the eight-homunculus circle became remarkably more manageable. It did little to ease the difficulty of the battle, however, as two homunculi launched another attack in tandem from opposite sides. Rather than try to avoid them both and stay within the middle, the boy leapt from the center toward one of the women whose long weapon was out of position and in the midst of being readied.

Colliding with the homunculus shoulder-first, Shirou was surprised to find that she was much more solid than she appeared. Despite the impact from his large frame, she hardly moved more than a half meter before both of their feet had both dug into the ground. Reinforcing his legs with another brief burst of mana, the boy put all his strength into throwing the sturdy woman onto her back. Only barely managing to stumble her into a trip, Shirou took advantage of the opening and leapt over her toward the castle entrance.

Spending the residual mana in his legs to enhance his sprint through the doors, Shirou slid to a quick halt on the stone tiling within. The homunculi were in hot pursuit, but he had the advantage for a hopeful moment. Slamming both doors closed, he quickly slid the projected blade in his left hand into the slot intended for - and formerly filled with - a wooden bar. It had fit loosely, but an immediate impact against the other side set it on tension and made it immovable. Not bothering to waste time confirming whether it would hold, the boy turned tail and bolted up the main stairway, disregarding the fine layer of dust and the somewhat decayed interior that smelt of mould and gunsmoke.

Bounding up the stairway as fast as his legs could carry him, a loud metal snap echoed throughout the main entrance area. Thankfully, he had already rounded the corner out of sight into the upper hallways. Even if he had been seen, it was unlikely that the homunculi would all follow him deeper into the castle. Shirou didn't even need to be a tactician to see that they had been instructed to guard the main entrance to prevent any escapees. At least, that's what Shirou would have ordered them to do if the roles were reversed.

Reaching the second floor, Shirou was met with the sight of dozens of bodies. While it wasn't something new to him in the slightest it was enough to slow him somewhat. Of course, that slowing wasn't mental. In fact, the boy hardly batted an eye while struggling physically to traverse so many mangled corpses. Rounding the next corner and slowing to a jog, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no idea as to where Illya actually was. He had been left out of Kiritsugu's plans once it was assured that he and Illya would play their own parts separate from one another. With so much area to cover, it was likely to take a long time if he were to simply go door-to-door. Absently, the boy maneuvered over a collection of bodies in the middle of the hall. Based on the scorched hole in the floor and the marks upon their bodies, Shirou concluded they had been killed by an explosion of some type or another.

Rounding a corner, Shirou spotted several more bodies piled at the very far end of the hall. Unlike the ones from earlier, they were efficiently killed with a single bullet. It revealed a difference in efficiency between killers. If Shirou had to guess, Missy had killed the homunculi at the entrance and Kiritsugu had taken these ones personally.

He could have asked Lancer where Illya's general location was, but he hadn't quite had the forethought for such a question. Silently cursing himself, Shirou continued jogging down the hall in the hope that a sign of some sort would point him in the right direction. He could always trace the entire castle, but doing so would cost more mana than he was comfortable spending and would bring about pain as large scale traces always did.

His signal came in the form of a gunshot, several in fact, and they sent him sprinting down the hall with reckless abandon. Where there were gunshots, Missy or Kiritsugu would be nearby and by extension - Illya.

Another two gunshots precluded a sharp womanly cry of pain from one of the rooms up ahead. With a target in mind, Shirou set his eyes forward and made note of a large blood splatter on the wall just before a doorway. With the room that had made noise just ahead, Shirou was met with the sight of a door rendered to splinters by some type of concussive blast. Prepared to leap straight inside, a strange female voice he had never heard before stopped him short.

"Neither of you two are the homunculus we were ordered to find. Tell us her location now or we will attempt a more persuasive method." There was a chilling silence as whomever the first voice spoke to held their tongue. Even after a threatening metal clank echoed from within, the other voices _still_ refused to speak. Peeking in through the remains of the doorway, Shirou spotted at least eight homunculi standing menacingly around two familiar faces: Missy and his father. Thankfully nobody inside saw his peek.

Reconfirming his count of eight, he absently made note of two more bodies lying close to Missy, who appeared to be struggling to remain conscious. Blood trickled from the top of her head to completely coat her left eye. Her left arm was visibly out of place and the same shoulder featured a large bloodied patch that dripped fresh blood from her fingertips. She had obviously put up a struggle, but they were more concerned with the Magus Killer if their perimeter around him was any indication.

The man wore his tested duster from his time as a proper assassin. While singed and scarred from his battles, it was still trustworthy nonetheless. Visually he appeared to be in much better shape than his accomplice, but the man was having difficulty breathing and a low audible wheeze poured from his mouth with each exhale. A closer examination revealed a haphazardly bandaged wound on his abdomen. It was deep and still bleeding but it wasn't extremely life-threatening.

Two of the homunculi stood out among the others by a difference that was simple but noteworthy. Unlike the others who wore maid outfits with alternating accent colours, these two had entirely white outfits. The first held her weapon at Kiritsugu's throat, though it was far from sharp enough to be truly intimidating. A red and silver halberd unlike any of the other weapons he had seen the other homunculi use. A visual trace revealed it to be made entirely of rhenium, a metal Shirou had never witnessed in person. The weapon was shocking to him personally. Not because it was finely crafted or gorgeous in design - which it was - but because it weighed more than than a literal tonne and was being held at arm's length by a woman roughly Missy's size. To support that weight meant the homunculus was on the level of a servant in terms of strength, though the vacant look in her eyes told Shirou that combat was _all_ she was useful for. At least she had given his mental armoury another unique weapon.

"I'll extend my hospitality to offer thirty more seconds before you will both be executed." The voice originated from the other homunculus wearing all white. Her voice held pure contempt and what he could only call disgust. With hands placed cordially at her front, she beamed angrily at the two hostages ahead of her. Unlike her sisters, she actually had emotion and spoke with a detectable level of sentience.

Focusing on his enemies, the boy worked to determine the best way to eliminate them all without risking either of the two hostages. So many in such a cramped space would add complications to any direct tactic, and firing projections freely had a chance to run him dry or injure his family.

 _"Saber, I've found Kiritsugu and Missy,"_ he informed, hoping for reinforcements or at least a guarantee that help was on the way.

 _"Lancer and I are working our way inside from the central courtyard. Resistance is greater than we expected,"_ was the excuse he got back. How could servants be so slow against mere homunculi? Were their numbers so great that they were overwhelmed or was their strength in combat equal to weaker servants?

"Leysritt," the intelligent homunculus motioned with one hand toward the one wielding the halberd. On command, the homunculus reared back the ridiculously heavy weapon as if it were a cardboard tube.

"I'll tell you," Missy blurted out, squeezing her blood-shut eye tight while taking a shaky breath. Shirou doubted her for an instant, then remembered her devotion to Kiritsugu.

Pausing for too long, the speaking homunculus grew impatient and coaxed her hostage along with a questioning statement. "Illya is-" Missy paused again. It was deliberate, she was buying time for the two of them in hopes that either they would come up with an escape plan or they would be rescued. As the speaking homunculus cleared her throat, Missy finally noticed Shirou peeking from the doorway.

The motion of her eyes was enough to make both of the unique homunculi turn in his direction. Moving into the room as the unique homunculi started to react, Shirou projected two blades over his shoulders. Both weapons fired at the lesser homunculi and both struck their targets. With a weapon impaled in each of their torsos, the two that were struck failed to die on account of bad positioning, but they were unbalanced from the momentum and that would give him breathing room.

Eight more blades were created within his mind, each with a purpose. The homunculi who were able were already moving to attack. All except one, the unarmed, unique one, who quickly darted toward the back of the room out of harm's way. One of the weapons in Shirou's mind formed just ahead to nestle squarely in one outstretched hand. With a weapon of his own, the boy parried an incoming blow and darted straight through the woman's guard. With the long weapon too unwieldy to handle him at such a tight range, making a decisive strike was child's play.

Landing the tip of blade beneath her ribs, the boy struggled to fully lodge the sword in her body. Using both hands and a sharp jerk, the weapon was embedded to the hilt where it sat firm. With a final sharp push, the woman and blade were forced backwards. She hadn't died, but the weapon had skewered her vital organs and she would soon. Three of the seven weapons still primed in his mind were fired toward the homunculus named Leysritt, distracting her greatly and forcing her weapon to withdraw from his father's neck to protect herself.

The remaining pre-primed swords were distributed equally to each remaining homunculus, aiming to distract them all collectively rather than actually kill or injure outright. By the time those four reached their targets, the three he had sent prior had already been deflected. The distraction offered enough time to get both Kiritsugu and Missy moving to assist in the very least. Like mirrored images, both shot upright and reached for weapons hidden on their person. Missy was faster to the draw and managed to fire two rounds in quick succession into a homunculus. Their assistance allowed Shirou to focus on the higher priority target, the one named Leysritt, who had blocked his fired swords.

Letting the pounding indoor gunshots drown out all sound in his mind, Shirou projected two green blades into his grasp and moved to take down the halberd-wielding homunculus. With a resounding clang, the woman caught both of his weapons on her staff and easily threw them away. Sliding his feet against the floor to space his stance, Shirou redoubled his efforts and feinted into another attack.

As if predicting the move, the homunculus easily reflected his true attack as well only to reverse the weapon in her hands and jab the base at his chest sharply. Crossing both weapons to block, the boy was roughly shunted backwards as her weapon contacted his. The extreme weight and speed of the blow meant that every strike was bone-shattering. After such a mere blow, not even from the head of the weapon, hairline fractures began to spread through the bones in his forearms.

Gathering himself, he was forced to leap further back as the homunculus made a wide horizontal swing. His back almost struck the corner of a large dresser but collided with the wall closest to the door instead. Thankfully he was still out of range regardless, if only barely. As the weapon passed in front of him, it collided with a small section of the wall and continued on unimpeded despite striking stone. Shards of rock were sprayed liberally throughout the room and while he would have had a chance to attack with a lesser combatant, Leysritt was able to rear her weapon back for another strike faster than Shirou could ever hope to move.

There was no way that she was an ordinary homunculus. Was this why Saber and Lancer were having trouble? Was it because the entire castle was filled with homunculi like this?

The head of the halberd shot high in preparation for an overhead attack. Realizing his position, panic set in. The path on his left out the door to the hallway was blocked with debris and too difficult to pass seamlessly. He could try, but doing so would likely cost an arm or a leg to the crushing halberd head. Behind him and to his other side lay the wall and a dresser respectively. The only way he could move was forward and that was obviously out of the question. His only option was to defend, but nothing he had would withstand the power in a strike from that weapon. Making matters worse, there was no time to prepare a defence beyond the two weapons in his hands either.

He was out of time and outmatched in strength. One mistake in positioning had spelt the end of his life and there was little he could do to prevent it. Reinforcing his body and weapons as much as he could in a split second, the boy forced both weapons out to lessen the blow, but he knew it wouldn't work in the end regardless. Once his blades shattered, the only thing he could do was push himself against the wall to avoid his head being crushed by the weapon.

He had one final chance. A theoretical use of one of his treasured possessions that would keep him alive at the very least. In his mind, a chant echoed as the weapon neared his chest. Four words leapt to his mind: " **Time Alter: Triple Accel!** " The crest was powered and the world outside of his own body slowed dramatically until it was moving at one-third of its normal speed. Velocity was a coefficient of momentum. If the former was decreased by two thirds, the latter was as well. He would be injured regardless, but slowing the weapon by three times might just prevent him from being pulverized into red mist. He would have tried knocking the weapon away or forcing it back but there was simply no time even in Triple Accel.

The halberd produced a visceral full-body crack as it rebounded off his chest. Instant, searing, unbearable pain washed over him and Time Alter fell apart with his concentration. Sharp blinding white struck at his eyes before every shape in view blurred and darkened drastically. Even with one-third of the force, Bazett's suit could only handle so much damage and the halberd vastly overwhelmed the attire. His body suffered an incredible amount of damage, undeniably the most he had ever received. After bouncing off the wall from the force, his body collapsed limply to the floor. Each one of his ribs had been pulverized and several of his organs had suffered the same fate. He should have died and if he was anything close to _normal_ , he would have.

Avalon was the only thing keeping his body functioning, but even that was an endeavour. Regenerating his heart took highest priority: It needed to transport the last oxygen-rich blood in his body to his brain. It gave the relic some greatly needed time to restore a portion of his lungs. Together with his brain, they were the only organs required for him to live, though living was far from an accurate description of his state.

Making gasping, guttural, and wet breaths of air, his body worked like a machine attempting to reboot, forfeiting every noncritical system just to preserve itself. Even when he tried to activate his magic circuits and project blades, nothing happened and his body remained inactive. It was as if his body had been disconnected from his soul. There wasn't a single muscle beyond his heart that would move, but he was acutely aware of his surroundings nonetheless. His vision was directed at the feet of those present in the room and his ears worked, but there was nothing he could do to really appear _alive_. He had become a vegetable in a single strike.

His holdout ability remained, but he would need to wait until Avalon repaired enough to engage his mouth and even then, there was no telling what it would do to him. In such a distraught condition, would his entire body be mutated? Before he could answer his own question, he would have to wait and see if he would survive the next few seconds.

From his motionless position on the floor, he could see a handful of interest points. Kiritsugu and Missy had been subdued once more, though not without taking down three more homunculi as a reward for their efforts.

What really concerned Shirou, was the looming shadow of a halberd being lifted high over his head. The homunculus was finishing him off, eliminating a loose end. There was nothing he could do to stop it either, as his body still wasn't functioning beyond a vegetative state.

The point was pulled back, the killing blow already in motion. Unable to even close his eyes, the boy's mind held a conflict over whether to just give up and accept his end or try something, _anything_ to survive. In the end, there was no time and he had nothing he could do. His death was in motion. He couldn't even breathe properly, let alone retaliate. He regretted being unable to save his sister, he could only imagine what awaited her after these women were done with him. Maybe if he had been less frugal with his projected swords, if he had been more aware of his surroundings - it wouldn't have ended this way.

Illya would have to finish the Grail War on her own. That was if Kiritsugu could somehow get them out of this mess. A sudden paralyzing fear washed over him. What if he couldn't? What if the homunculi won and killed them all? What would happen to Illya then? Would they force her to become the Grail's vessel? Despite how much he tried to move even a hair, his body still refused to obey. It was hopeless, there was nothing he could do.

"Stop!" A cry echoed, and everyone in the entire room went as stiff as Shirou. With a clamouring noise, a small girl shuffled out from beneath the bed, sobbing as she did. "Don't kill him, I'll go with you. I-I'll do whatever you want." With both eyes and ears, he could tell that it was Illya. Tears rolled down crimson eyes that were locked into his own.

Kiritsugu and Missy both knew it was too late to tell the girl that such a decision was a mistake, but the look in their eyes regretted the reveal on her behalf.

In the time it took for the remaining four homunculi to collect themselves and focus on Illya, Shirou regained the use of his eyes and one of his lungs. While less of as struggle to breathe, it was anything but easy. Each cycle of breath transported thick gobs of various fluids along his throat. Blinking several times to wet his eyes, the boy watched helplessly as the unarmed homunculus approached his sister and peered down as if gazing upon a piece of discarded refuse.

The unarmed homunculus raised one hand limply. "Leysritt, let us grant the vessel's last request."

Both Shirou and Illya's eyes went wide, but only one set remained open for more than a moment. The unarmed homunculus quickly extended one hand to land on top of Illya's head and without so much as a word, the girl collapsed onto the ground unconsciously.

Shirou's freshly reformed heart threatened to beat out of his demolished chest. The temperature of the blood coursing through his veins leapt ten degrees in an instant. Even though he ordered his body to move, it remained motionless. He couldn't do a thing to protect his sibling. Was he going to lose her here? The homunculus wielding the halberd, Leysritt, approached Illya and bent to yank her upward by the hair.

A raging inferno erupted within his body at the sight. She had laid her hands on Illya, she had hurt his little sister. Shirou felt his body activate one inch at a time. Her actions were inexcusable and he would make that homunculus pay tenfold. His hands steadily tightened into fists, his arms slid across the ground and his mouth spoke a phrase which would either get him killed or save everyone at once: " **I am the bone of my sword**."

The reality marble enveloped his body from the inside out and a torturous agony washed over his entire already wracked body. As it rooted itself in reality, his gurgling breaths suddenly became edged with the sound of grinding, scraping metal. Each painful beat of his heart sent shooting pains throughout his entire body, but functionality across his entire body restored itself at double the rate. Running a continuous trace on his body, he carefully monitored the percentage of his body that was made of steel. It was a disturbing number, especially when it was climbing so rapidly beyond thirty percent. One palm pressed on the ground to lift his battered body off the floor and another forced his upper body into the vertical. From there it was a short shuffle of the feet to bring himself to a stand. Each heave of his chest, each breath and each pump of his heart made grating, grinding noises as small blades passed over one another.

Turning at the peculiar sounds behind her, the unarmed homunculus offered the boy an appreciative glare. "A resilient master, indeed. The vessel has offered up her last request for your freedom, you should leave before we change our minds." Shirou's face twitched involuntarily. They were treating Illya like some worthless object, they called her a _vessel_. She was a _human being_ goddammit, she was his sister. She had every right to be called a human.

The homunculi turned their back on him to focus on his sister, a motion which infuriated Shirou even more. The unarmed homunculus gripped Illya's face between her two hands, turning the girl's head side to side as if appraising an artifact. Through the pain, Shirou willed his concentration into forming one last blade. Hardly waiting for it to fully form within his grasp, the boy threw what little caution he had left to the wind and mentally spoke another phrase: " **Time Alter: Triple Accel.** " With a burst of speed far beyond human capability, Shirou lunged forward only to find an incredible amount of pain awaiting him.

Just clearing the distance between himself and the two homunculi felt like he had slammed into a wall at Mach one, but with Illya's life on the line, his only concern was getting their hands off of her. Time Alter ended as he entered striking range, and his hand shot out to grip the top of the unarmed homunculus' head. Baring his teeth like an animal, Shirou reared back with a hand full of her concealed hair, lifting her throat to the air so that the blade in his other hand could slice the sensitive flesh wide open.

At the first blood-soaked gurgle, the boy threw the dying target by the head into her accomplice, Leysritt. As the body of one homunculus struck another, Shirou slammed his own charging weight into her their combined mass as well. The impact sent the homunculus and her weapon toppling to the floor. The former made a thud, while the latter produced an echoing slam that shook the very room as its extreme weight succumbed to gravity. During the fall, Shirou opted to release his weapon, rearing back one anger-filled fist to punch his former attacker in the face. With alternating strikes from both arms, her visage quickly became a bloodied pulp as the rapidly expanding sword flesh worked as a focused, point-impact blender.

One of three other homunculi had reacted in time, landing an attack with a greatsword that buried itself deep into his right shoulder. After piercing his flesh, the weapon rapidly halted to the sound of sharp grinding. The power in that blow would have split him in two had it not been for the sword-flesh stopping it early through friction alone. Growling in pain, Shirou grit his teeth and snapped his head upward, projecting two weapons that pierced the attacker's skull. Recoiling from the attack, her limp body collapsed to the floor but the heavy weapon embedded in his body remained stuck firm.

The final homunculus, one using a unique spear, made an approach. With one arm more or less disabled and his body weighed down by the sword stuck inside of him, he projected two blades behind her and fired them into her spine. Without her lower body for support, the homunculus collapsed onto the floor feebly. From there, it only took a stretch for Shirou to remove one of his impaled weapons so that he could sink it into the back of her skull.

Taking large, broken breaths, Shirou verified that his enemies were all dead. His father and Missy had done the same, though they were far more concerned with Shirou's condition. Illya's unconscious form was lying on the ground. The magecraft used against her was still in effect, no doubt.

Heavy clanking footfalls precluded the appearance of two well-armed knights who were both bathed in blood. "We apologize, while the resistance wasn't anything dangerous, the numbers were considerable."

Shirou turned to look at his servant and the woman visibly recoiled. "Shirou, your face," she gasped. Confused by her meaning, he raised one hand to his cheek, producing an ear-piercing grating noise as the two metal surfaces ground against one another. Looking down at his own fingers, he realized that his entire hand had been converted to sword-flesh. The tracing results revealed that as little over fifty percent of his body had been converted into blades. More concerning was the fact that it had started converting his bones into blades. Before he could worry about turning off his circuits or how he could revert the spreading growth, something impacted the side of his head and everything went dark.

… … …

… … …

There was a woman.

Rather, a girl barely old enough to be considered a teenager who stood in the middle of a tranquil grassy field. She was motionless, caught staring at the only object present for some distance:

A sword embedded in a stone.

A gleaming silvery-gold blade, a soft, simple blue hilt and crossguard all engraved lovingly in intricate detail with gold. Despite being out in the open air for an indeterminable amount of time, it appeared as if it had rolled straight from the forge ready to be framed upon the wall.

The weight of the world resided on the girl's shoulders with a single decision: Withdraw the blade and become inhuman, become king; or return to a simple life and be at peace with ignorance.

Setting her jaw, the woman took a few proud steps forward and wrapped one hand around the handle of the gleaming weapon. Holding herself short of drawing it, the girl deliberated once more.

"Consider that decision before you commit yourself to it," a voice spoke from behind, directing her gaze to a man that hadn't been there just seconds ago. "Once you have withdrawn that sword, you will cease to be human."

The man maintained an inviting smile and a warm voice, but her senses warned that he was a truly dangerous man. Something about his presence reminded her of old stories told by Sir Kay regarding demons and evil creatures. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel allured by that very same presence. "If I am to be King of Britain, so be it."

The man made a short, sharp and saddened laugh. "Know that the king must be prepared to kill everyone in order to protect everyone."

"If that is what it takes, I won't hesitate," the girl confirmed, stepping forward to wrap both hands around the weapon's grip. Despite yanking upwards, the sword was stuck fast and would not relent so much as an inch.

An amused snicker, a flourish of one arm that spread flower petals across the fresh grass. "Such determination. Let us see how far you are able to take such righteous spirit." Finishing his sentence, the sword smoothly slid free of the rock, producing a near-blinding flash of golden-white light as bright as the sun itself.

… … …

The looming sight of Camelot sat ahead. It was a representation of her life's work with its pristine white stone walls and its elegantly crafted towers spiked high into the heavens. Each time she witnessed it, the king couldn't help but feel a warming homely sensation. All of her efforts to unite Britain had culminated in the creation of Camelot and it stood as a testament to her success. Just outside its walls, where they were passing through, sat a well-protected and dense village; one of the most lavish across Britain. Around her revolved the murky swirling noises of assembling people and the soft rhythmic pacing of several horses. Despite her forward-set focus and the overwhelming number of voices, she heard snippets of conversation and whispers amidst the crowd.

She only dwelled on the most interesting pieces, however:

"Our king seems _too_ perfect."

"It's rumoured that the king isn't human."

"At times it's hard to tell the difference between our king and the stone walls of his domain."

"Never losing a battle is almost inhuman, is it not?"

"Why has the king not produced an heir?"

Tightening her face, the king listened to the innumerable questions surrounding her humanity before a familiar voice caught her attention from the side. "My liege?" Turning, she was graced with the softly smiling visage of Sir Bedivere. "Since nearing Camelot you have been stricken with such a serious, wistful look. Might I know what is on your mind?"

The king shook her head immediately. "You need not be concerned. I was merely reflecting upon the battle." It was a lie of course, but there was no need for the knight to concern himself with her own insecurities.

The smile on his face grew sad, sadder than it typically was, but he allowed his mount to slip further back out of her sight. The distraction was far from unwelcome, but it was over regardless. At the very least her mind had moved on from the conversations of her people to the reuniting of her land once more.

… … …

A knight in silver and crimson approached her table. For as long as this knight had been in her employ, the king had never witnessed his face. While curious and intriguing, the young knight obeyed her orders and was a considerable force in battle. So long as he upheld the chivalric code, his appearance meant nothing.

Regardless, he was in her war room toward the tail end of the evening. Why had he not accompanied the other knights?

"Sire-" he began before shaking his head. It was as if he was holding a fierce battle back within his mind. "No, you must be shown before you can understand." Heavy clanks of shifting metal followed and gradually the helmet upon his head gave way to reveal a shockingly similar sight. Golden blonde hair, eerily identical features and blazing emerald eyes. The twisted mirror the king was forced to look into brought on an intense wave of nausea and a sense of dread that predicted something more was yet to come.

She would be a fool not to feel the kinship shared between them or understand it with her own eyes. Before he even explained their relation, she had already concluded something similar. The knight babbled in, but it was all useless noise to her ears. Mordred was her son, but admitting such a thing was impossible.

There was shame in that thought. So much so that it hurt her chest to dwell on. Having an illegitimate son was one thing, but keeping it secret from her people for so long when it was just under her nose was disgraceful. To an outsider looking in, the act was blatant deceit. Regardless of her explanation, it would always be believed to be intentional deception.

It wasn't fair to the people of Britain, it would destroy her credibility as king and it would cause disruption all throughout the round. They were nearing a civil war and he had thought to bring up such a sensitive matter?

Closing her eyes tight, the king took a deep breath and opened them during her exhale. "I have no son, you have been misinformed."

The knight ahead of her was struck full force by disbelieving grief, but the king paid no mind. "But- how?" the knight murmured.

Unable and unwilling to say anything more, the king turned to leave to the sound of various curses and claims. They were baseless and formed within a fit of rage, she took no offence to them. Though, as the knight continued his near delirious ranting, something foreboding struck at her chest. It was persistent and nagging with a warning that there was merit in his words. Perhaps just her nerves with her country on the brink of civil war, or maybe it was a premonition but something was warning her:

That knight, Mordred, would bring about the ruin of Britain.

… … …

 _"The king knows not of what it means to be human."_ The last words she had heard being proclaimed by her proudest, strongest and most loyal knight, Lancelot.

A week prior he had offered that smouldering message before running off with her queen to France. She had known he would run of course, but her hands were tied by the very laws she had established. None were exempt from its equal hand. It had not been her desire to execute Guinevere, but the people's.

That was why she allowed Lancelot to rescue her. Even after attempting to help by offering excess drink to the guards, Gawain's sons had perished after attempting to stop their attempt to abscond.

To defend a friend's honour and appease the people, a troop was deployed on Lancelot's heels with orders to bring the supposedly rogue knight to justice.

But she had known the truth.

The two had been holding a secret affair for years. Being honest and ignoring the shame it brought to admit such a fact, she had never loved Guinevere. The king had only made her queen out of simple necessity. A king required a queen, and Guinevere had been the only person capable of handling such responsibility.

And what a miserable responsibility that was.

The woman bore the weight of inescapable loneliness being married to a famous spouse who would not so much as touch her. That sequestered destructive loneliness was a greater burden than the king herself could ever imagine. And while Guinevere wept each night, there was nothing either one could do to help the other; they were both pitiful victims of circumstance.

Which was why the king paid no mind to the affair. She had known from the start about the affection shared between Lancelot and her queen. Knowing their burning love for one another, the king had allowed their mutual, inevitable indulgence while pretending to be ignorant.

The silent agreement had worked well until it was brought to light by Agravain. The air around all of Britain had been steadily growing tense ever since.

She would depart for France soon, leaving Mordred to guide Camelot in her stead. As one of the few remaining capable knights, it was her only option.

The king couldn't help but feel anxious and unnerved by the thought of that decision.

… … …

Dead men littered the ground in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Hardly a patch of cracked clay or grass could be seen between their mangled, bloody, corpses. The stench of voided intestinal contents and copper was overpowering to the point of disgust. It was a battlefield, but it was honourless. At one point they had been her friends, comrades and followers. Some still were but most had converted to assist in Mordred's rebellion against Camelot.

Mordred and the king had slaughtered the men of each opposing side, meaning they had been the last to remain standing. The last few forces of the king had been formidable men, but against the brutal odds it was inevitable that they would fall; the mental drain of battling their combating brothers-in-arms, the greater number of opponents and the dishonest, unchivalrous strategies of Mordred's insurrection ensured it was so.

In the end, the king herself handled the brunt of the resistance forces on her own and had suffered multiple mortal wounds as her reward. Despite the outward appearance of her inability to die, the king gravely understood that her fate had arrived and it was only a matter of time. All of the king's wounds paled in comparison to the last wound delivered to Mordred: A lance driven straight through the center of his chest.

Rhongomyniad, the pillar supporting the world. It had pierced Mordred's thick armour clean through both sides as if it hadn't existed in the first place. It was the final strike from both sides and it had locked the two in place as if time stopped. The sword in Mordred's hands, a familiar ceremonial weapon from the king's own storehouse, landed within the numerous bodies below. One crimson gauntlet-clad hand wrapped around the king's shoulders to force the pair closer together, further embedding the lance in Mordred's chest.

"Look around you, Father," he spat, blood pooling inside his venomous mouth. "It's over: Britain is in ruins and you've failed your country. Are you proud of me, Father? Do you recognize me as your rightful heir now?" The man swallowed thickly, speaking through clenched teeth. "Only a knight equal to you could ever hope to kill you."

Shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth, the king clenched both hands around the lance. He was right. Her kingdom had crumbled to pieces and as king, it was her fault. Perhaps if she had recognized Mordred as her son, if she had declined Guinevere as her bride of necessity and allowed her to wed Lancelot.

If she had never drawn the Sword of Selection in the first place.

Thrusting the lance forward, Mordred produced a pained noise and gripped haphazardly at the king's hair for support. Metal fingers ripped strands from her scalp, producing painful prices of sharp pain that almost went unnoticed alongside her more grievous injuries. "Your precious chivalry, your honour and knight's code," the knight continued to growl. "Look at all the good it did."

"I-"

"You call me a traitor, but you've been lying to your people from the very start." The pressure on her hair was faltering and the weight upon her lance grew increasingly heavier. "Who would believe someone heartless like you was ever human?" Mordred's body fell limp and his weight grew heavy on the king's arms. He had perished, there was no doubt of that. Unexpectedly, the hand jammed into her hair tightened and reared her head back. A sharp pain struck at her side beneath her left arm. The king opened her mouth to cry out in pain but gauntlet-clad digits had already dug themselves into an existing wound in an unarmoured portion of her body. She couldn't even do anything, as Mordred's weight and positioning had locked both arms in place. The cold shifting of sharp steel was excruciating as the deceased knight searched for something to injure within her body.

Clawing like a wild animal, the traitorous knight finally located his target. A sudden weakness struck her legs and shortness of breath struck the king in the same moment. It was a struggle to stand and breathe, but she wasn't prepared to kneel against the efforts of someone so foul.

Cementing the spear deeper within Mordred's chest, the king released her lance and allowed the body and weapon to roll down the hill into the innumerable bodies below.

A hand gripped at the freshly invaded wound. It was no use trying to staunch the flow of blood. It was over. Her life and the country she had worked so hard to protect, they were both over.

… … …

… … …

Something crimson chained by silver softly clattered as it left one set of hands to move into another. "I appreciate that you didn't attempt to experiment on it," Shirou admitted while carefully stuffing the artifact within his outfit. While his attire was strange, it was Shirou or Blade or whatever he wanted to call himself without a doubt. Nobody else had such uniformly tanned skin, pure silver hair and gray eyes. They might have been a little colder than she remembered but they were solid gray and unique.

"Trust me, I wanted to and I would have if you hadn't shown up tonight," Luvia assured, eyeing the man cautiously.

While the manor in Fuyuki had been a certifiable wreck, the spare manor out in the forest was nearly as bad. Littered with copious amounts of cobwebs, signs of wildlife and the universal killer: age. It was a decrepit squatting but it was known to few and would shelter their heads for the rest of the War, hopefully. It had taken then a few magic-assisted hours of cleaning to prepare two rooms but it was a decent enough place for sure.

"Just know that if you had, you wouldn't be breathing," Shirou menaced, voice edged with deadly seriousness.

Taken aback Lectra absently commented that the necklace must have been pretty important to get a reaction like that.

Focusing on the main goal, Luvia took the reigns of the conversation. "Threats aside, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you haven't discovered anything."

"On the contrary," he quickly replied to her genuine surprise. "I've learned a great deal. You were likely unaware, but the Magus Killer participated in something known as the Holy Grail War in this very city. If such a prospect wasn't off enough, he was participating as a master for the Einzbern family."

"The Grail War? Einzberns?" Luvia questioned with surprise. "I've heard of that family name, but I haven't heard of this Grail War," she claimed, narrowing her eyes. "The EInzberns were an ancient German magus family that disappeared from sight a little over a century ago."

Nodding, Shirou crossed both arms over his chest and leaned back on one leg. "And the Holy Grail War is just as it sounds: A War over the Holy Grail. Supposedly it grants wishes to whoever wins."

"So the Magus Killer must have won this thing, right? What happened to the Holy Grail?" Lectra asked, growing more curious as the plot deepened greatly.

"I'm not entirely sure," he shrugged. "But there might be some clues within their former base of operations."

Lectra was about to take the information in stride but Luvia rapidly noticed something about the way he worded his sentence. "You're going to give us information then let us investigate alone? That doesn't seem shady at all," she remarked dryly.

Rolling his eyes laboriously, Shirou shifted his weight from one leg to another. "You seem to forget that I could have killed you multiple times. Why would I need yet another occasion to lay traps for you?"

Even in the dark Luvia could tell there was a coldness in his eyes. It was something that unnerved Luvia greatly with its pure unfamiliarity. Through her time with him at the Clock Tower, he had never once looked at a single person with a gaze like that. It was nearly enough to make her question whether he was the same person she knew. "It's just," she paused, hesitating to get words forming within her mind. "It seems sketchy is all."

"Whether you go or not isn't important to me. You're confident enough to make your own decisions, I hope." Unfolding his arms, Shirou closed his eyes softly and raised one hand passively. "While I could go with you, I just don't want to. I have other places I need to be."

Before Lectra or Luvia could even argue with him, Shirou turned and strode off down the pathway through the trees without any intention of coming back. The two girls gave one another a wary glance before looking back at their home. "Well it's pretty late to be exploring old castles, why don't we wait until tomorrow morning?"

Blinking, the strawberry blonde suddenly broke out in a great yawn. "Yeah, I could go for a catnap right about now."

Throwing her arms over her head to languidly stretch, she was cut short by a distant snapping noise that carried on the wind. Turning her head to the believed source, Luvia narrowed her eyes and listened more intently. As if on command, several more echoed through the air.

"You hear that?"

Lectra strained to listen but merely shrugged. "Sounds like a woodpecker or something."

"They're gunshots," the blonde answered. "You know what gunshots mean, right?" Turning and realizing that her friend was clueless, the Edelfelt carried on. "Gunshots mean the Magus Killer."

"I don't see the correlation, couldn't it just be some gang member or something?" Lectra asked in confusion.

"If it's just some punk off the street, we can do a little community service and remove them anyway," the blonde shrugged.

Lectra made an indignant huff. "Can't it wait? What's the harm in getting a little sleep."

Luvia scowled. "Gunshots usually mean trouble. If it _is_ the Magus Killer and he's shooting at someone, he's likely been found out. If we don't go after him now, he won't be there tomorrow and we'll have missed our chance."

Running one hand through her hair, Lectra produced a long groan. "We're going to have to run there aren't we?"

Rolling her eyes, Luvia quickly turned and started jogging in the direction of the gunshots. "It'll help build your stamina," she teased before setting her path directly toward the gunshots.

While the two ran off, one person remained to watch over the spot they had abandoned: A woman in crimson with bright blue eyes and black twin-tails. She was far from earshot but still within the forest. There was a soft shimmering noise as a servant appeared at her side, leaning against a tree. "Did you plan on following them?"

Rin softly shook her head. "Not at all. You didn't detect anything at the castle last night. It should be the same today which means they'll find nothing. This was merely to get them out of the way."

"It sounds like you have more plans in mind for tonight."

"Of course," the girl replied seriously. "We only know of three other masters and the identity of a single servant. We need more information if we're going to win so finding the remaining three masters is key.

The man produced a thoughtful sound. "An interesting decision. But such a simple goal is unlike you. What are your true intentions?"

A self-satisfied grin broke out on her face. "If Luvia and Lectra do find the Magus Killer, they're bound to attack. If they attack, he'll have no choice but to defend himself and kill them both. And if Kiritsugu is there, Shirou will be there as well. Those girls have no chance."

Archer furrowed his brow in agitation. "Even in a ceasefire, you'd set up something like that."

"I'm not trying to intentionally hurt Shirou," the girl defended. "I just hate that stupid blonde cow. Besides, she's been nothing but trouble ever since she arrived and Shirou's always been too reluctant to do anything about it."

"So you're driving him to take action," Archer summarized. "I fear your pushing may lead to something disastrous."

Rin let out a long breath that produced steam in the chilled night air. "We'll just have to wait and see. What's done is done."

The man shut his eyes. "You've still neglected to tell me your entire plan, master. How do you expect to both win the Grail War and keep Shirou Emiya alive?"

"It's simple, I'll make him surrender." As she finished, the servant produced a condescending snort. "What's so funny?"

"Believing you can make Shirou Emiya surrender. It's laughable."

Rin narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you think that because nobody in your world ever cared about you enough to try." Rin pulled some knowledge passed down from her mother, claiming, "half-baked efforts from uncaring people always fail." The seething comment must have hit a little close to home as the servant visibly twitched and fell silent. "Shirou has his sister to protect, he's not going to let anything endanger her. If he's given an ultimatum, it's obvious his choice will be her safety. In fact, it's probably his wish for the Grail."

"You're wrong."

Rin blinked and made a questioning noise. "About which part?"

"His wish," the man partly growled. So she had been right about his lack of close friends. "He'll wish to become a Hero of Justice. Every Shirou Emiya does."

Setting both hands on her hips, Rin gave him a sharp glare. "If that's what you think then you're more short-sighted than I thought." She paused, remembering Archer's circumstance. "Then again, you've never met _this_ Shirou."

There was a soft noise of rushing air and moving foliage. Rin had taken it as some sort of animal, but a hand on her shoulder quickly reared her entire body backwards. A flash of white and crimson dominated her vision as Archer stepped in front of her. A half-second later, a small black object landed on the ground, a throwing knife. "An enemy servant," he declared simply.

Feeling something foreboding, Rin quickly picked herself up. "Why wasn't I able to sense their presence?"

Archer's head snapped around to peer through the dark trees, scanning for their enemy. "You did not establish a bounded field, but if you cannot sense them now, they're Assassin. Consider that a rule of thumb."

"For one crippled with self-doubt, you have sharp senses." The voice that taunted them was entirely foreign. It sounded empty in a way, echoing several times to produce a jarring discordant harmony as if harmonized with several other voices of different volumes. It was raspy, but clearly understandable regardless of the fact.

Trying to locate where the voice originated, Rin turned and caught a flash of metal flying straight toward her. Before she could even fully react to the threat, Archer made a sharp grunt and cut the blade out of the air into the ground. One hand tightly gripped her shoulder, pulling her back against the man's chest. "There's no way to tell where he's coming from," he murmured.

"Shall we make it easier then?" the taunting voice questioned, and two blue orbs appeared in the darkness between the trees. There was something deeply disturbing about them as if staring into them was to peer into a void-filled abyss of humanity's worst transgressions. The orbs had the appearance of a flickering blue flame, even producing small wisps of steam due to the temperature difference. Archer raised one arm to throw his weapon but halted when the orbs shifted in a strange way. They were stationary for only the briefest moment before they suddenly split into two sets - then four - then eight and they continued to multiply until Rin lost count and the entire circular perimeter around them was surrounded with multiple sets of moving, floating orbs.

Archer made a soft "tsk", keeping his head on a swivel for further threats. "Some sort of illusionist then. Add a Caster with presence concealment to the list of possibilities."

The voice returned, but it swirled around the area at impossible speeds. At one moment it was to the left and at the next syllable, it was to the right. At one point Rin wondered if the servant was above them in the sky and below within the earth despite the impossibility of either. "The false shadow claiming something to be disingenuous. Was a life of imitation not enough? Perhaps the afterlife is enough to satisfy you." There was a soft whistling that precluded more metal-on-metal. Two more thrown weapons had been deflected by Archer, who now held his usual two weapons.

"You speak about me like you know me," Archer merely responded, voice low and concentrated.

"We do, we do. All slaves and contractors are known to us. We are the only free body to see with absolute clarity."

Another voice that could only barely be considered feminine resumed. "The Dragon of Wind and the White Knight, the Dragon of Blood, the Druid, the Queen of Lusting Wrath, and you; the Pitiful Imitation." It was obvious to the Tohsaka that the servant spoke in riddles and symbology. Each name referred to another servant, all of which she had yet to actually see. Had they already identified the true name of every other servant? Did they know everything about Archer?

"I had no idea we were on a nickname basis. What should I call you then?"

The voices laughed; a rancorous audience that found humour in ignorance. "We are the nameless, the profane and the all-knowing. You can call us whatever you desire."

"What about _pain in my ass_?"

Rin drowned out their words and struggled to focus on the innumerable sets of orbs floating around them in the darkness. She couldn't help but feel a crushing sense of dread, that they were outmatched, outnumbered and merely being toyed with. What could Archer do against an opponent like this? Firing arrows was great for single targets, but he had no wide area-affecting weapons.

Obviously, he had the same thought as a message beamed straight to her mind. _"I won't be able to handle all of these foes with you here. We can either devise a plan for your escape or wait and see what this servant will do with us."_

Two options, but which was best? The servant overwhelmed them in numbers. It would be impossible for Archer to handle that many at once. So why hadn't they attacked? If their goal was to kill them, wouldn't they have tried harder already? Relaying that very thought to Archer, the man stiffened. Another nearly undetectable movement of air and three noises grated within her ears. A total of six small throwing daggers littered the ground around her now, two of which were stained in something purple. " _I think they're just playing with us. They could have killed me by overwhelming you but they haven't."_

The voices continued their taunting. "From one imitation to another, how does it feel to realize your inadequacy? Disappointing? Relieving? Does it bring you a sense of inescapable futility?" The orbs produced a lingering, hollow laugh that echoed from every direction at once. It was as if they were surrounded by hecklers with identical senses of humour. One of the eyes darted forward, but as it entered the light of the clearing, it vanished and a hazy, shadow-figure took its place.

While humanoid in shape, it was too strange to be called human. It had four limbs, but each held far more joints than was normal and the spacing between each one was random and inefficient. It was a miracle that the _thing_ could move, let alone so fast. It was already extending a hand to tear her face to ribbons, a hand with four elongated, sharpened digits.

After such a brief glimpse, Archer came to her rescue. In a move she couldn't really track, one of his weapons severed the figure in two halves. After fully separating, the creature _popped_ and vanished into the night like a balloon. "Some sort of shadow?" Rin asked, keeping her eyes open for more. "Can it even hurt us?"

"I don't want to take a chance and find out," Archer declared, scanning the darkness with as much dedication as his master. There was a break laden with tension, but just like the knives earlier, things progressively grew in intensity. What started with one, became two, which became four and ended in a final wave of eight. Archer had struggled to keep all eight off Rin, but through the hasty use of additional projections, he managed to keep the figures at bay long enough to deal with them later.

With the eight shades defeated, Rin and Archer prepared to face sixteen, as the pattern would reveal. When-

"There!" Rin shouted, pointing at a shift in the perimeter of the darkness.

Archer turned to face the oncoming foe, but nothing came. It had been a small movement, but nothing had actually formed beyond that. A shared tension settled over both of them; what was this servant planning? "Contractor," the voices suddenly commanded, grabbing Rin's attention. Was she supposed to be the contractor? Would that make Archer her slave in their eyes? Not waiting for her to respond, the voice continued. "Your greatest fear is on the path to realization. The present time is nearly stained with crimson."

Rin couldn't think of a response as her brain worked to extrapolate the true message intended. Was that some sort of threat about their current position, or a message about another master or servant? Tightening her form to prepare for what was next, the swirling blue orbs vanished one by one.

"A man who worries too much about the cobra cannot see that he is trapped in quicksand." When only one set of eyes remained, they stopped with a sudden jerking motion, then slowly faded away with a sickening laugh.

Waiting a few seconds to ensure their safety, Archer took a step back and let the weapons in his hands fade away. "We'd better leave before they decide to come back."

Rin opened her mouth to agree, but an entirely different voice spoke on her behalf. "Gladiators are never without spectators." Even without being visible, it was clear that whoever the servant was could still see them and they were keeping a vigilant eye on them as well.

"We're leaving."

… … ...

Keeping her pace steady, Luvia waited until Lectra had managed to reach her side before speeding up so they could get to the gunshots faster. There had been a pause in their rate, but after a few minutes, the snaps returned, this time louder. A second set of gunshots followed the new set, however, they were noticeably quieter, as if two guns were being used.

"Why do you always run so damn fast!" Lectra shouted ahead, barely keeping track of blonde drill tails in the dim moonlight. It wasn't that she lacked in stamina. Back in the Clock Tower, she went to the gym to keep busy during her time between classes. It was just that Luvia reinforced her body with mana and blew past her with raw speed.

The mercenary was quick to comment back with a scathing glance. "Did you ever think that it's just you being too slow? Come on, those gunshots stopped a while ago!" Mounting a small ridge, Luvia made a confused outburst and planted both her hands on her hips.

Waiting for Lectra to stand beside her, the two took in the castle sights and looked at one another nervously. "I don't think there are any other castles in this forest so this must be it."

"You never know. Could be a dozen castles like this kicking around the forest." Noticing that Luvia wasn't buying her sarcasm, Lectra offered an apologetic smile. "Kind of weird to see a European castle in the middle of a Japanese forest though. Makes sense with them being German and all. Just kind of jarring."

Luvia's scowl deepened. "Are we really discussing ill-fitting architecture of a centuries-old castle in the middle of a forest that nobody seemed to know about?"

Lectra blinked then suddenly grew sheepish. "I mean, these things are important."

Rolling her eyes, Luvia stepped off the ridge toward the castle. "Let's just kill this old man and be done with it; if whoever is here hasn't killed him already that is." Mumbling the last part, Luvia continued her approach before she stumbled upon two dead bodies just outside of what she assumed to be the main entrance. She was no stranger to dead bodies personally, but she was perplexed as to why each body was _identical._ They were white women with white hair, wearing white outfits with identical faces. All of these similarities along with their lifeless crimson eyes were unnerving, to say the least. Something they also shared was the gruesomeness of their mortal injuries.

One, who still had her hat, had a gaping hole at her left collarbone. It was the only visible wound and judging by the pool of blood underneath her it was likely she bled out. The other woman was far more gruesome. An impact had taken her head and rotated it upon her neck several times over. The resulting tension on her skin had ripped and torn it viciously to leave behind raw muscle, sinew and fragments of shattered bone.

A thought came to Luvia far later than it should have. The girl quickly turned to her friend and raised both hands to hold her back and obscure the view. "Lectra don't-"

Of course, it had been too late. Lectra was already looking over her shoulder, absolutely transfixed by the corpses. Her eyes were wide with a complex blend of emotions that were too difficult to place. Her mouth slowly parted to produce a question in a voice far from normal. "What happened to them?"

Moving her head to block Lectra's line of sight, Luvia took hold of her friend's shoulders to direct her focus. "Don't worry about them, they're too far gone to waste our time here." Going after the Magus Killer, Luvia knew Lectra would inevitably see a dead body, but she hadn't wanted her first to be one so mangled and gruesome. She had intended to murder the Magus Killer on her own, peacefully, without Lectra ever having to directly witness the act either. Being a magus meant to walk with death, seeing wounds and injuries hurt on an empathetic level, but it was always corruptive to witness death for the first time.

"Who-"

"I don't know, but let's go inside and try and find out, alright?"

… … …

Shirou jolted awake violently, then felt an unbearable full-body pain that made him cry out. Thankfully his outburst hadn't startled anyone since he was in the room entirely alone. He was laid upon a large dining room in a dimly lit room he didn't recognize in the slightest. If he had to guess based on the walls and general appearance of the furniture, he was still in the Einzbern castle.

Going over recent events, he tried to reconfirm his assumption. He remembered saving Illya by killing those homunculi, then he was knocked unconscious somehow. After that, he was in some sort of dream, but he was in Saber's body around people he had never seen in a land he had never been to. It had seemed so real but if it had been, he would have been transported back in time - in her body.

Like a fully loaded train, the pain doubled down and sent a jolt straight to the base of his neck. While it was full-body, most of it seemed to be radiating from within. It was almost as if his veins were filled with acid. Squeezing his face to hold back the urge to scream and vomit simultaneously, the boy struggled to even comprehend that he was alive. The pain was pure agony, even worse than when he converted his nerve circuits though considering what he put himself through, it was no surprise.

With his mind on the same thought, rationality hit at once. His eyes opened to check over his own body starting at the feet. He was surprised to find that an overwhelming majority of his body had been bound tight in cotton gauze. It started at the knee of his right leg and carried upward to conceal the rest of his entire body to the neck. He was one and a half legs away from dressing up like a mummy.

What was concerning, was the amount of blood staining most of the material and the question of who undressed and bandaged his entire body. While he couldn't lift the bandages to see, it certainly didn't _feel_ as if he was wearing anything else.

Moving one hand to squeeze at his forehead, he abruptly stopped after catching sight of his bloodied, fully bandaged hand. Shirou would never consider himself an expert on the human body, but he was almost certain that normal people didn't contain the amount of blood that stained his form.

But he wasn't exactly normal, thankfully. Moving the hand to touch his chest, the boy closed his eyes and gazed upon Avalon's glowing radiance. Shirou was thankful for a lot of things but was most thankful for the relic that prevented his untimely demise time and time again. Not to mention the fact that the relic seemed much more at ease with Saber's presence nearby.

The sound of an opening door brought him out of his internal reflection. He was greeted by the very same woman he had been thinking about, who appeared surprised at his state. In her arms, she awkwardly carried a surprising amount of gauze.

"Shirou, it is good to see you awake." The woman stepped into the room and closed the door behind herself with a gentle kick. "However, I believe it would be best if you lay down and got some rest."

"Saber-"

Without bothering to listen, the woman narrowed her eyes on her approach and claimed, "I will not answer your questions unless you lie down."

Begrudgingly, Shirou struggled to lie back down on the cool surface. "Where's Illya, is she alright?"

"Your father and Missy have taken her to another room. She is physically fine, however, she has not awoken from whatever spell she was put under." Methodically, the woman set down the bandages and laid them out around his entire body. Was she planning on replacing them?

"At least she's safe," he murmured, looking up to the ceiling. "How long have I been out?"

"A half-hour, in which you've made a remarkable recovery." The servant's curt, short responses were odd and spoken with notable distance. He wasn't inexperienced in dealing with women, she was holding something back from him.

Turning his head to look at her, Shirou watched as she lifted up his hand and began peeling away the end of gauze. "Is there something wrong?"

As the last syllable left his mouth, she responded. "I was unaware that my master had access to a reality marble." The jarring accusation hit hard and almost made him flinch. It would have too if he hadn't reminded himself how much pain that would have caused.

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," he lied, something even Saber could see through evidently.

"That only makes me wonder how many more _unimportant_ secrets are being hidden," she stated, working her way back from his fingertips to his elbow. Able to see his actual flesh, he was treated to a mixed blend of gore and pristine skin with no detectable pattern. Avalon had healed his body sporadically, replacing sections of strips of his body while leaving others to focus elsewhere. He had strained the artifact quite a lot. Regenerating most of his organs, combating the after-effects of sword-flesh and restoring his worrying blood loss simultaneously did seem like quite a lot.

Moving his eyes from his own body to Saber's face, he nearly bit his tongue. The intense stare she was giving him was filled with anger, accusation and disappointment of equal measures. "I-"

There wasn't a convenient interruption to draw him from the awkward situation, he was forced to answer the loaded question. "I've been taking advice from my father."

Wrapping his fingers in gauze, Saber scowled. "And here I thought my words to you earlier had stuck. Your father is not a man to be trusted, Shirou. His intentions may be pure, but the means he employs to reach them are wicked. Taking and saving lives is not an act of balancing scales."

Something clicked in Shirou's mind and memories that weren't his own went on replay. Before he could catch himself, he started reciting a comment halfway through. "Be prepared to kill everyone to protect everyone."

The servant visibly recoiled, words stirring something behind her eyes as her face shifted from shock to regret into annoyance. "Where did you hear that?"

"I don't really know," he admitted.

Clenching her jaw, the servant slowly resumed her work reapplying his bandages. "Repeating expressions mindlessly without knowing their source is unwise. The meaning can change depending on who is speaking it after all...and to whom."

He hadn't lied. Shirou wasn't even sure that those dreams were real. The man who said it was someone who he could only guess the identity of, but it was an educated guess at the very least. "Well, then what does it mean to you?"

Continuing to work on his arm, the servant paused for a moment. "It is not meant to be taken literally. If you wish to protect a group of people, you must be prepared to single-handedly kill an equal number of people."

Shirou furrowed his brow. "How is that any different than my father?"

Saber twitched again but continued working regardless. "It is vastly different. He is not the king of a country for starters."

"So all he would need is some stupid title?" ...was what he would have said anyway, had he not known that she would have killed him. Instead, the boy bit his tongue and tried to find the line between his father's reasoning and the oath Saber took as king.

"How long have you had access to a reality marble?" the servant asked, finishing his one arm and moving behind his head to work on the other.

"Three, four years or so?" he responded, not entirely certain with how much time had passed.

Saber continued with the prying questions. "Are you able to affect items outside your own body or is what I witnessed the full extent?"

"That's as far as I've gotten. I've never let it progress to that stage either."

Saber made a soft, stern hum. "Your father estimates more than forty-five percent of your body was transformed into that strange state. Based on the mere depth of conversion, I would be much more worried than you about allowing it to progress further."

Shirou didn't have the heart to let her know that it was far worse than just a surface transformation. Sword-flesh invaded every one of his living cells as they were damaged. Skin, muscle, bone and even his blood were all converted into blades of varying sizes. Considering that only one lung and his heart had been restored by Avalon before activation of his marble, the rest had likely been replaced with swords shortly after.

The door to the room opened and a slender frame slipped within. With her long hair tied up and a bandage attached to the side of her head, Missy had certainly looked better. "Mister Emiya," she greeted in relief. "We were worried that you wouldn't wake up. I assume Saber has filled you in on the details?"

"Just the basics," she assured, peeling the gauze from his body with a little more force than necessary.

"I see, well just for good measure: Illya and your father are safe, resting comfortably in another room. Saber and Lancer have cleared out the enemy and those that remained absconded some time ago." Offering a small thanks for the debriefing, Shirou remained still as the two women worked to replace the soiled bandages on his body.

After some time, the two women neared a rather sensitive region of his body that sent immediate red flags to his mind. Sitting up with a flash of pain, he abruptly moved their hands away. "I think I've healed enough to handle that area myself."

Missy was accommodating to the subtle request, but Saber was anything but. "Shirou, I assure you that I have seen it all. You need not worry."

In the middle of preparing to protest further, the door to the room opened again and a blessing in black strode in. "It's good that you're awake," Kiritsugu greeted. As his presence was acknowledged, Saber finally stopped trying to tend his wounds. While the old man walked closer to the table, he stuffed one hand into his coat and withdrew a flat stone that held a pulsing symbol from a foreign script.

Shirou had no idea what it meant, but Missy seemed to recognize it immediately. "Have they returned?"

He shook his head. "There are only two women who appear to be Shirou's age. One is blonde with strange curled hair-"

"Luvia and Lectra are here?" Shirou interrupted, just thankful to have something that could distract Saber. "Where are they?"

The man's brow was taut and his eyes were entirely vacant. Shirou had always considered that look the " _Magus Killer Stare"_ and it certainly fit his legend. "I don't have an exact location, but I imagine they've entered the castle at the very least." The condescending answer hurt somewhat, but Kiritsugu likely expected him to trace the castle and determine their precise location. "They were conversing outside at the two dead bodies you left behind. It's good that you know them, it means my plan should work perfectly."

Catching on to his father's plan, Shirou struggled to swing his legs from the table, sending searing pain through his body as the half-healed flesh was disturbed. "You want me to talk to them and send them away."

Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes. "That's an option as well."

"Shirou I do not think you should be moving around. Your injuries are quite severe." Saber's concerns were well placed in anyone else, but for him, it was nothing but a fool's errand. He was too stubborn to listen and while he hadn't healed enough to fight a servant, he was more than capable of talking to someone. With his legs already over the edge of the table, the boy cautiously shuffled the rest of his body closer to the edge.

Avalon had regenerated quite a lot with Saber's unknowing help. The servant had no doubt been his medical attendant and the idea had likely come from Kiritsugu himself as an attempt at accelerating his healing. Still, even after Avalon's endeavours, it felt like he was full of pins and needles from head to toe.

The boy ran a quick trace of his body and compared it to the last one gathered before he was knocked unconscious. He discovered that twenty percent of the total injuries sustained still remained. Those that remained were mainly deep tissue regeneration; where the surface appeared fine but underneath lied something synonymous with ground beef. He couldn't be too upset with the outcome. He had strained his body to its limit twice, survived, and could even stand on his own feet. "Nothing to go off of then besides _they're inside_ then?"

Kiritsugu glanced toward the door he had left wide open. "I'm certain they won't be hard to find. This castle is large but simple in layout. It's likely they took the staircase to the second floor, though from there it's a gamble."

"Then I'll start at one end and work my way down," Shirou decided. As he wouldn't be able to fight in his condition regardless, the boy took the time and effort to trace a copy of the suit and tie Kiritsugu had bought for him. While being somewhat fashionable it also was nonrestrictive, surprisingly.

Keeping himself held up while he slid off the edge of the table, his feet contacted the floor and shook in uncertainty as weight was applied. To say his legs felt like jello would have been an insult to the firmness of gelatine. After a few seconds of stabilization and preparation, he pushed off the table and put his entire weight on his legs. It didn't take long to notice that every movement of his muscles brought on an odd gritty soreness like the joints were packed with sand. He had taken his reality marble too far, but at the same time - he hadn't died. That meant, theoretically, he could push himself even more.

Of course, he was in agony, but it was far from unbearable. Saber made a soft noise of contempt. "If my suggestions are to be completely ignored, then it seems that I have no place here." Nothing more or less than casual, the woman walked out of the room with an unknown destination in mind.

Testing the mobility of his arms and fingers with simple gestures, the boy confirmed that he was in no shape to fight but could at least move and function on his own power. "I'll be fine, I don't see why she's so upset," he murmured.

"Perhaps it is because she cares about her master, or she does not want to see someone repeat her own mistakes," Missy analyzed. The woman's explanation was specific enough to make him wonder if she knew something he didn't.

Halfway to asking what she meant, he was stopped short by Kiritsugu reinforcing the need to get those two girls out of the castle. Dressed and as prepared as he could be, Shirou left the room in search of his friends from another life.

At least they wouldn't realize he was Blade, though how he would explain his presence in the castle was something he would have to conjure up while he searched. Placing his hand on the nearest wall, he hesitated to start tracing. Practice over the years had meant that such large-scale scans were getting less painful but the tingling shock that hit his brain never got any better. Taking in a deep breath, the boy closed his eyes softly and murmured "trace on" to the cold stone.

Following a sharp stabbing pain to the top of his neck, the wireframe of the castle came into view within his mind. As its entire construction was completed, he removed his hand to stop the flow of information and examined the stored image.

There was an immediate problem that would have been impossible to miss: A large portion of his mental map was entirely saturated with raw mana. While it was possible that it originated from the two servants, the more likely case was Illya. Being unconscious, her natural mana stores were leaching into her surrounding environment. The fact that it was merely two doors down reinforced the theory.

The mana signature was large enough that it obscured his own location and nearly the entire corner of the castle. Shirou could only tell where he was by differentiating his own magic signature from Illya's. With almost one-quarter of the castle entirely unreadable, keeping Luvia and Lectra away from the area was priority, lest they get lost.

Their signature was easy enough to spot for now at least: Two orbs, like cherries on a conjoined stem, sat across the courtyard in the other hall. Turning to orient himself, Shirou walked down the hall to his objective with purpose.

Rounding the first corner, he had to pass through a door before he could continue deeper into the castle. Stepping through, Shirou entered a room filled with at least two dozen bodies, killed through various means. Plenty died as he expected, with bullets, though several had died through relatively unconventional means with cuts or burns. Some had no marks at all but had died from sheer blunt force trauma.

If he had to guess, it was the work of his father. Only a mage or a servant could conjure the raw force to kill them and the variety of wounds discarded Saber or Lancer's involvement.

Moving through the room without getting excessive amounts of blood on his attire, Shirou exited into the hallway on the other side and carried onward. Rounding the corner, he found an entirely empty hall that honestly surprised him. His estimations on their movements put them in that spot so why weren't they there?

"Shirou?"

Turning around, he spotted two women tucked into the corner, glaring at him in pure confusion. Luvia had one hand extended in his direction, ready to blast him with gandr.

All three of them asked the same question at the same moment: "What are you doing here," and grew even more confused.

Luvia scowled deeply. "What am I doing here? _You_ told us to come here. And why have you changed clothes again?"

Shirou looked down at himself. "What's wrong with my clothes?" Reconsidering Luvia's words, he wanted to hit himself for not focusing on the important segment.

" _That's_ what you focused on?" Lectra gawked, repeating what his mind was already asking.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter." Before he could respond, Luvia waved away her comment with a motion of the hand. "Did you find anything about the Magus Killer?"

Shirou blinked and his mind shut down. They knew he had connections to the Magus Killer? That meant they knew he was a magus as well. What else did they know? Did they know he was Blade? Did they know the Magus Killer was his father and that he was _there_ in the castle? What was he to do now? Would he be forced to kill them both to prevent harm to his father? Struggling to form words or even know what his next move would be, the boy locked up and only managed to get out: "What?"

Luvia planted both hands on her hips and looked at him as if he was stunted. "Are you normally this much of an eejit or is right now a special occasion?"

Shirou scowled, but Lectra took over the conversation from behind Luvia. "You told us to look around here but didn't want to follow. Did you end up changing your mind?"

Still entirely lost in what they were talking about, Shirou decided to run with whatever they believed to try and gather more information. "Yes, I sorted things out and wanted to see how your search went."

Luvia seemed to buy it, even though she produced a dissatisfied noise. "Well the more the merrier I suppose. Not that we need help to kill the old guy."

Shirou bit his tongue to keep from explaining that it was undoubtedly harder than they thought. Unable to lie he had to pick his words carefully. "I've gone through the other hallway. There were a few corpses but nothing of note."

"Speaking of corpses, do you know what the hell happened here? We keep seeing the same dead woman everywhere." Luvia seemed unmoved by the thought but Lectra visibly shivered behind her friend.

It was going to be difficult answering questions without knowing what they knew already, but as long as he could get them to leave he would be ecstatic. He could solve the problem of a supposed doppelganger some other time. "I'm not entirely sure. They might be the famed Einzbern homunculi."

Luvia snapped her fingers into a point. "You're right. I've heard of them but I didn't expect them all to be women. Guess I should have figured that one out by the red eyes."

Lectra was less knowledgeable. "What's a homunculi?"

Thankfully Luvia provided a brief summary. "Think of them like clones but connected to the world like a nature spirit. If trained properly, each one could be as powerful as a high-ranking magus."

"So there must have been some battle here," Lectra murmured, looking around cautiously.

Luvia shrugged and made a pompous noise. "It was probably the Magus Killer, right Shirou? You said he was the Einzbern master in the last war so maybe there was some bad blood afterwards."

Shirou blinked twice. Just how much did they know? Who had told them? Was it the work of Assassin? They were the only servant he hadn't witnessed and it was entirely within the realm of possibility for that servant to have some type of disguise like Lancer. "It's a good theory," he decided to reply.

Something nagging threatened to unravel the Assassin theory and it only brought dread into the pit of his stomach. Last night when he had attempted to partner with Rin, specific weapons from a servant had been used to try and kill him. They weren't just fabrications of mana like the other servant weapons, those specific ones were projections; projections that were made using tracing, his unique style.

It wasn't impossible for another magus to learn something similar, but to be so close to his own style? Maybe Rin had summoned _himself_ as her servant? Did that mean he would become the _Hero of Justice_ his father so despised? The mere thought of himself as a servant brought on fierce nausea and a pile of questions he had thought better left unanswered.

Until he had more information, denying the existence of a servant-version of himself was the best option. The ramifications associated with deep thought down that broken trail were undoubtedly severe and he needed the mental composure to prevent being found out by Luvia.

The Edelfelt smirked in self-satisfaction. "So he _was_ here and somehow he got into a fight. His bodyguards must be pretty tough to take down so many homunculi." Still reeling from the initial shock, each new confusing comment was an additional slap to Shirou's face.

"Bodyguards?" he blurted out.

Luvia looked at him as if he were stupid. "Of course. This guy has been retired for twenty years and his record started long before then. He's bound to be geriatric and with all the money he's made from those contracts he can afford to have bodyguards."

Lectra contributed her own opinion. "That explains why there are so many dead bodies. One old guy couldn't do all that."

Ignoring the fact that one "old guy" had done precisely that, Shirou tried to wrap his head around a response. Without knowing what the two really knew, he was treading on thin ice in every direction. He decided to focus on his original objective and get them out of the castle. "I didn't see any guards on my way here."

"Then he must have left before he got here, damn it." Luvia turned and bit at her thumbnail. "Maybe if we had run a little faster we could have gotten here in time."

Doing his best to maintain a level face while his mind continued reeling from the new information, Shirou subconsciously registered Lectra's request to leave and Luvia's subsequent answer. He even offered to lead them to the front door and while they walked, Shirou contemplated everything that just transpired. There was another version of himself - no, an imitation that was spreading lies and messing with his friend.

He couldn't think of any explanation beyond Assassin before they reached the door where Luvia turned to state her goodbyes. In the midst of leaving, a sudden pulse of indescribable energy snapped Shirou from his exhaustion like a bucket of ice water.

His head twitched up to lock onto the source: An unfortunately familiar sight that drained the energy from his already tired limbs and filled him with despair, just a few dozen metres outside the front entrance.

A man with a crimson sword.

The hairs on Shirou's neck stood on end. What was he doing here? How did he track them down? Refocusing on the incoming threat, Shirou recognized that it was not the time for questions. Not even considering forcing Luvia and Lectra out to face that threat, Shirou barged past them and slammed the doors closed.

As the impact echoed through the main hall, he quickly connected with his servant and ordered her to retrieve Lancer and head to the main entrance. Even together they had failed to do so much as scratch Berserker. How could they be expected to kill him, exhausted, unprepared and lacking any element of surprise?

He didn't know what the girls knew about him, but at this point, it didn't really matter. If he didn't act, all of them would die to that monster. Activating his circuits, his back ignited with raw heat that felt like it was burning through his clothing. Gritting his teeth, the boy projected a greatsword and shoved it into the well-worn cradle. It was damaged and far from sturdy, but there wasn't a chance it would hold Berserker even if it was in perfect condition so it hardly mattered in the end.

There was no time to perfect his work and employing a bounded field to reinforce the door further was useless. Berserker would break through whatever blockade they could create with the same amount of effort.

Whipping around the face the two confused girls, he pointed deeper into the castle and levelled a commanding gaze. "Run, get as far away from the entrance as you can."

"What? Shirou why-"

"Just go! If you don't, you'll die!" His words shocked the two girls, but instead of fleeing as he expected, Luvia grew angry.

"Why should we? Do you think you're that much stronger than us or something?"

Bewildered, Shirou couldn't believe what he had just heard. "This isn't the time to argue, you're both in grave danger!" he explained, fully aware that their limited time was running short.

Luvia persisted and planted both hands on her hips. "If we're in such danger, why aren't you trying to run as well? Whatever this threat is, all three of us can handle it."

"I'm trying to buy you both some time to escape. Behind those doors is a battle none of us can win." His main goal was to protect Illya and Kiritsugu, saving the two girls recently became a secondary goal meaning his words weren't a lie.

"With all three of us here I'm certain whoever it is doesn't have a chance." Shirou had no time to argue, in moments Berserker would be upon them and Saber and Lancer were yet to be present.

"Trust us, we're stronger than we look." Moving to Luvia's side, Lectra joined the conversation and exchanged a glance with her friend. The two nodded, and Luvia quickly reached into pockets within her dress to transfer gemstones.

There was no more time to argue, they needed to prepare. Begrudgingly resigning himself to the fact that they planned on fighting alongside him regardless of what he said, Shirou shook his head and forced them back toward the base of the stairs. After reaching them, the soft clattering of metal plate. With Saber and Lancer close by, his fear was settled marginally. It meant they wouldn't die immediately upon Berserker's appearance, but they would shortly after he defeated both servants.

Almost reading Shirou's mind, a loud bang resounded through the main hall as the front entrance was blown open by a strong force. Following the repeated abuse, the hinges on one side gave out entirely, sending one door clattering to the stone floor. Standing ominously within the centre, Berserker stood glaring at them with disturbing emptiness.

The servant's slow steps into the hall produced echoing clanks that served to enforce his chilly, threatening aura. Reaching halfway into the room, the man slowly twisted his wrist to hold his crimson weapon out to the side from the hip. "You should feel honoured that you are able to meet me twice in such a short time. Unlike our first encounter, nobody is here to hold me back."

Shirou blinked, and the servant was hardly a foot away. The sudden change in distance snapped his eyes wide and his body struggled to react in time in its exhausted state.

Without even realizing it, his body twisted beneath an incoming slash and blades had formed within his hand to direct his opponent's weapon toward the ground. It was a valiant attempt and it would have worked had the servant not been so ludicrously strong. Still using a single arm, the servant allowed the weapon to twist in his grasp before yanking upward. The motion sent the spiked bottom through Shirou's forearm and lifted his body easily off the ground.

Shirou didn't even have enough time to cry in pain. Berserker's free hand shot out around his neck and in the same motion, the blade was withdrawn. The servant hadn't even started to squeeze but the force within his grasp already choked off his breathing. Not wasting a mere moment, Shirou lashed out with his good arm and tried to jam his fingers beneath Berserker's mask into his eyes. Before he could even get close, the servant moved his head away.

Two blades formed behind Berserker and within the same moment, they were completed and fired. Seamlessly, the servant flicked his blade and shattered both weapons in the air. Destabilized, the resulting shards erupted into particulate mana. All Berserker needed to do was clench his hand and his spine would snap under the immense strength.

A sharp clang resounded through the hall. All at once, he felt weightless, oxygen flow painfully returned to his body and the pressure on his throat vanished. One hand quickly clamped around the gaping hole on his arm and the other wrapped around his sore neck. Even though Avalon would repair it in a short amount of time, staunching the blood flow would mean the artifact had to work less. Still, his body didn't have the strength to keep his body standing and he collapsed onto the stairs.

"Remove your hands from my master and leave the fighting to servants!" It was Saber's voice, shouting at Berserker from behind. When Shirou's vision fully returned, the sight of an ivory servant standing before a blackened monster came to him.

Berserker had been forced down to the floor past the base of the stairs, where he was peering down at his left arm and flexing his fingers as a test. There was a thin cut in the material of his forearm but there was no injury of any sort. "At the time, there were no servants to fight, I made do with what was available. In the end, you only pose as an obstacle in the path toward the inevitable."

Berserker couldn't retaliate against Lancer however, as a bolt of blue and silver leapt over the ivory servant to collide with the monster himself. The force of the collision sent a rush of dust and ceramic shards through the air. Each collision of the servants' weapons sent waves of pressure and snapping white sparks in the air.

Lancer turned his head to face Luvia and Lectra, who had barely moved an inch in the confusion. "I leave the protection of our master in your hands, do not disappoint me." Without a second word, the servant jumped from the stairs straight into the fray.

The command was enough to snap Luvia from her confusion at the very least. Moving to Shirou's side, she helped the boy off his rear and glanced back at Lectra. "Use them all, let's see how powerful your _Géant du Vide_ can really be."

Shirou watched the girl blink, peer down at the gems in her hand and formulate a plan in her mind all at the same time. Even in his half injured state, he had to admire Lectra's problem-solving skills. During their training in the Clock Tower and in the preliminary fights in the Mage's Tournament, he had made note of her expertise in tactics.

Extending her hands forward with palms out, Lectra began chanting sentences in French at a rushed pace. The gems that had been given to her began swirling within the air around a small, undulating black ball of goo. With each sentence spoken, a gem entered the steadily growing black blob. With each addition, the size increased and the undulations grew more wild and violent. As the gems were being prepared, the servants below continued their relentless battle. Despite fighting two master knights from the Arthurian era, Berserker was holding both servants off without taking so much as a scratch or putting a second hand on the grip of his sword.

Keeping one eye on Lectra and one on the servants fighting below, Shirou struggled to keep track of what was actually transpiring. From what he could tell, the battle was going about as well as it had in the forest, if only slightly better. Berserker was still shrugging off attacks but he was unable to land a strike on either of his two enemies either. Something about how Lancer and Saber were moving around one another seemed inefficient and almost clumsy, but he only had a brief look.

When the third gem was absorbed by Lectra's creation, the woman finalized her spell and outstretched a hand to catch the basketball-sized, shifting sphere. As if it were weightless, the woman threw it above the battle raging below. Like some alien object, the orb levitated in the air until it was hovering high above the center of the conflict.

It only took a snap to release the creature from its bonds. The black orb exploded outward violently but uniformly. Still hovering in the air, its mass grew until the confines of the grand entrance hall threatened to be too small and even then it strained against the walls.

Its expansion had disturbed the servants in their battle, but just as quickly as the creature had grown, it suddenly shrank like a piece of taut string being strummed. In a mere moment, the room-encompassing shape became a humanoid figure. It was the height of three men with tree trunk sized limbs attached to a thick centre mass. It had no head or neck, simply a small rise from the body where one would have been. The only indication of a face were three coloured pieces assembled in an upside-down triangle on the body. At first, Shirou had thought them to be the gemstones likely supplying the creature with power but a trace revealed them to be mere imitations for aesthetics.

Unlike the traditional ether constructs Shirou remembered, which were a deep translucent violet, this creature was black. In fact, it was darker than any black he had ever seen. It was less a colour and more the absence of any light at all. It destroyed the floor and shook the entire room as it landed, but made no menacing sound of its own, being eerily silent in fact. The trio of servants all stopped to make a note of the new threat.

The beast raised both arms over its head, moving surprisingly quick for its size. Unfortunately, Berserker was far faster and a quick movement and slash of his blade had bisected the being horizontally.

The creature held motionless and the two separated portions slid away from one another for a moment. Then without warning, the portions returned to their original place and the construct slammed both arms onto the servant. It had been unable to land a direct hit, but the servant in black had finally been forced to use both arms to hold back the attack.

Shirou felt a sensation of deja-vu as Berserker bent at the knees and forced the ether construct off his weapon, but instead of throwing the creature onto its back and finishing it off as Bazett had, a sharp protrusion jabbed out and struck him in the chest. It was almost like some sort of fist-on-a-spring that had actually _worked_.

The servant practically exploded from the spot, flying backwards past Saber and Lancer to slam through a supporting pillar. The battered structure of the castle simply couldn't handle the abuse any longer and with several cracks, a large portion of the second floor collapsed on the servant's point of impact, burying the area in rubble. It was a stunning turn of events that put shock on the faces of Shirou and his servants. It was the first attack that had actually managed to strike and it hadn't even been from a servant. That thought alone was difficult to swallow.

Lectra pumped her fist in victory, enthused that her creation had accomplished what two servants had been unable to. Was she even aware that the three fighting below were epic heroes of legend?

Luvia made a soft noise. "I have a lot of questions for you, but wasn't that guy supposed to be our certain death or something?"

Shirou blinked, realized he was still being dragged up the stairs by Luvia and wriggled himself free. Ignoring her question, he forced strength into his legs and clumsily bounded to the edge of the stairwell to intently watch the spot Berserker landed at.

There was no way that blow had killed him. Hell, it probably hadn't even left a bruise. It had been the perfect distraction, however. "Saber, use it now!" he shouted, waiting for the pile of dusted rock to begin shifting.

With a sharp agreement, a gust of wind and brilliant yellow light dominated the room. At the same time, the pile of rubble shifted and a figure stood from within. The attack had done little damage if any at all. Not even the servant's attire had been scarred. He didn't even bother to dust himself off or waste any time wondering what Saber was doing before dashing forward to re-engage the servants. Saber was charging her attack to ensure it would kill Berserker in a single strike, but they didn't have the luxury of time to allow such a thing.

The servants had started moving so fast that Shirou couldn't comprehend it with his eyes. Spending a bit of mana and biting through the pain to reinforce his eyes helped, but it didn't do much. He watched Berserker bounce off a guard established by Lancer. His two servants were working together, with Lancer defending and Saber preparing her noble phantasm.

While a solid strategy, it was obvious that Lancer couldn't hold up to Berserker's unstoppable slough of strikes. After sustaining a dozen blows, the weapon in Lancer's grasp exploded into shards, stumbling the servant and giving Berserker an exploitable lead.

Berserker moved his foot and Lancer stumbled forward. At the same time, an elbow collided with the servant's shattered guard. The force behind the impact sent the swordsman sliding across the floor into his king, unbalancing them both and disrupting the channelling of Saber's noble phantasm.

"Your coordination is pitiful," the servant taunted. "Sharing a dragon aspect makes you even more pitiful. Simultaneously unable to complete your attack and revealing your identity was a mistake, Arthur Pendragon." At the sound of her name, the gleaming blade hid behind a layer of wind once again.

Both Lancer and Saber moved apart from one another, with the former preparing his spare blade. After watching and analyzing two-person combat in the Magus Tournament, it was clear to Shirou then that the two servants had no cohesion. Maybe it was more accurate to say that they didn't have any trust with one another, but something was off regardless. Each servant was a formidable force on their own but together they aided in the other's downfall. They were skilled at fighting _alongside_ one another against many separate foes, not fighting against a single common enemy.

 _"Saber, hold back from the fight, let Lancer take Berserker alone."_

 _"What?"_ The mental outburst was paired with a quick glance in his direction.

 _"Trust me for a minute,"_ was all he explained. Closing his eyes, Shirou began chanting the aria to perfect his tracing. With each step, the composition of the blade within his mind grew more refined. It wasn't a perfect copy, but it was as close as he could get without activating his reality marble.

The blade formed within the air over his shoulder and with the last mental checkmark, it fired off toward the servant in white. "Lancer, use this!"

The servant cocked his head over, caught sight of the incoming weapon and carefully stepped back to give himself room. In a show of dexterity, the servant snatched the weapon out of the air to appreciate it closer. "Thank you, master, this weapon should work well."

Saber's voice returned to his mind. _"Do you have no faith in me, master? Do you think so little of me that I am unable to face this foe?"_

 _"It's not that. Both of you are strong but that weapon Berserker uses is designed to kill dragons. You felt it back when we fought Caster and Rider and you no doubt feel it now. That blade is dangerous, and it's too risky for you to get hurt by it."_

Lancer gripped the handle and what was formerly a bright crimson weapon mirroring Berserker's own became enveloped in ivory and gold. The original sword-owner seemed unphased by the development, remaining motionless even when Lancer readied his new, converted weapon.

Berserker tilted his neck to each side, producing sick pops and cracks. "To wield Gram requires you to answer a question: Will your life end in glory or ruination? If you are unable to answer that, it might as well be made of glass."

With a flick of the wrist, the weapon in Lancer's hand slashed through the air with a wicked howl. "My life has already ended in ruin which means I've got nothing but glory to look forward to!"

Both hands gripped the converted blade and in a flash of speed, the servant in white and the servant in black collided to restart their battle. Both Shirou and Saber were confined to watching, but from what Shirou could see with his reinforced eyes, Lancer was doing better on his own. With a blade capable of withstanding combat and without having to worry about his partner's position, Lancer was able to hold himself relatively well against the mad servant, though whether it was enough to win was up for debate.

Turning, he refocused on Luvia and Lectra who were both staring at something over his shoulder. Following their eyes, he understood their surprise immediately.

At the corner watching the battle was Kiritsugu.

No, that wasn't the man standing there. The cold eyes and heartless gaze were both features of the Magus Killer, not his father.

Everything happened at once: Luvia snapped her left arm up and blackened crimson orbs formed at her fingertips, the Magus Killer raised one hand holding his favoured weapon - the calico - and Lectra turned her attention to Saber below, directing her creation to retake the offensive.

There was no time to move or calm either party, his best chance was to form a shield in front of Luvia and hope the bullet wouldn't pierce it. Halfway through forming within his mind, a sudden jerking pain reversed the progress entirely.

Checking his body, it was clear to see he was out of mana. Supporting Saber, using his reality marble and forming so many weapons had drained him. Trying to create something he wasn't proficient in had been the last straw. A sudden weakness came over his knees, but he forced them to lock so he could remain standing.

Simultaneously, the magic at Luvia's fingers and the bullet in Kiritsugu's weapon fired. Unexpectedly, Luvia shouted a single word.

"Rider!"

Her extended hand produced a sharp tone and flash of crimson, burning through a thin layer of makeup that had acted as a concealer. In a flurry of snowflakes and a twist of space itself, a woman in white with bright neon pink hair appeared just ahead of Luvia. Shirou knew exactly who it was: Rider.

It was obvious now. Of course, Luvia had been the last master. Rider at the Edelfelt manor, Bazett battling one of Lectra's constructs and even the strange knowledge Luvia seemed to possess. He should have known, he should have put the pieces together but foresight was always twenty-twenty. Maybe it had been his resistance to the thought of killing Lectra that clouded his judgement.

With a flick of Rider's wrist, the incoming bullets were deflected harmlessly using what appeared to be an ordinary black riding crop. The servant bounced on her feet as several more bullets of gandr were fired from over her shoulder. Luvia ignored Shirou entirely, placing shots at the man who was trying to make an escape behind cover.

Luvia's attacks were unlike any type of gandr Shirou had seen before. Not only could she form one shot for each of her fingers, each one flew much faster than any of Rin's and the impact each one made was more like a small cannon than a simple spell.

"You called, master?"

In a cold voice focused on a single goal, the woman gave her order. "Deal with Shirou. I'm going after the Magus Killer."

The girl cast him a glare that sent shivers down his spine. "He's no Cú, but at least he's something to play with in the meantime."

Saber made a shout but it was cut off partway through by a strained grunt. The servant was being forced away by the ether construct and her attempts at breaking through were poor at best. Each strike sliced the creature in half but did no real damage. The being launch a sharp jab and to defend herself, Saber slashed to chop the limb off.

Halfway through the creature's flesh, her weapon stopped jarringly as if it had struck a bone. With a jerk backwards, the sword was torn from her grasp entirely and within a second the weapon was absorbed into its body.

Saber appeared mildly shocked but she quickly overcame it and extended her hand. The ether construct shuddered and its entire surface quaked before a large eruption of gale-force wind tore it apart from the inside out. Disconnected from its body, portions that had been strewn across the room and ceiling had liquid properties, dripping and pooling across the room. With a clatter, the gleaming blade of Excalibur landed upon the ground before being collected by its rightful owner.

"If you wish to fight someone, I am right here, Rider."

The woman in white tilted her head and pouted heavily. "I'd love to play with you, but you've already got your hands full. Don't you think you should finish one enemy before moving on to the next?"

As if on command, the broken ether construct that had been motionless grew animated. The portions of itself scattered across the area rapidly collected into the central mass to reform it into perfect condition once again. Before it was even fully formed, one tree trunk-like arm was thrown forward to collide into the servant, forcing her back toward the doors.

With the minor distraction out of the way, Rider refocused on Shirou. "Are you going to run or fight? Or maybe you'll kneel and become a sweet little slave," the woman purred, snapping the riding crop on her gloved wrist.

Shirou couldn't answer, he was too focused on the servant's stats. At this range, it was impossible not to read her abilities. E rank strength and endurance, C rank mana, B rank agility and A+ in her noble phantasm. None of those were as concerning as her luck: EX-rank.

What that possibly entailed was hard to say, but Shirou wasn't interested in finding out any time soon. The boy hesitantly looked back over the railing of the stairs, determining whether the drop was worth a quick escape. When he turned to look back, something dense and metallic landed at his feet.

By the time he looked down, it had already exploded to release a dense cloud of smoke. As smoke clouded his vision and obscured his form, gunshots rang out through the room, further indicating who it was that had helped out.

Looking back over the railing, Shirou quickly vetoed the choice. It was predictable and the lower levels were unknown to him. At the very least, he understood the layout of the second floor and his father was somewhere there as well. Moving from his position, the boy leapt up the stairway and narrowly avoided a stray bullet for his efforts. Moving out of the smoke cloud, Shirou flew up the stairs toward where his father had been just moments prior.

Slipping around the corner of the hall, a rush of warm air and a small explosion sounded behind him. He wasn't going to take the time to look and verify, but he was willing to bet that Luvia was firing shots of gandr at him. Sucking in harsh breaths, Shirou focused on running forward and keeping his eyes open for Kiritsugu.

His entire body felt like it was on fire from the combined effects of being out of mana and so sore from his full-body restoration. Despite his fatigued state, he continued moving in search of his father.

And after passing the second T of the hallway, he did. There had been a gun pointed at his face and thankfully his father had the trigger discipline not to fire. Before Shirou could speak, a strong hand gripped him by the collar and yanked him into the crossing hallway.

"You were supposed to get those two out of here," he stated with mild agitation.

"Berserker arrived, I wasn't going to send them to their death," the boy defended. Whether he liked it or not, his father had died and the Magus Killer was alive and well once more.

"The pink-haired woman is Berserker?"

"That's Rider. Luvia is a master as well," Shirou clarified. His father produced a sourly upset expression before nodding his head for them to move deeper into the castle.

"Missy's distraction has likely run its course. We can't let them go further down this wing of the castle or else-"

"I know," Shirou cut him off. The further Luvia and Rider got, the greater the chance for Rider to detect Illya's immense mana signature.

The entire castle suddenly shook violently as if a bomb had gone off at the entrance. Trails of dust and less-than-sturdy fixtures fell from the walls at the jarring force. Two more sudden tremors followed, precluding a large bang and the sound of tumbling rock. Following its source, Shirou and Kiritsugu looked out of the nearby window into the central courtyard, where a battered-looking Saber faced an unseen enemy.

Tracking her eyes, Shirou spotted a large gaping hole in the far wall leading to the main foyer and the blackened amorphous shape that was attempting to squeeze through.

The knight looked at the blade in her hands, then at the construct still struggling to squeeze through the small gap. He could almost read her exact thoughts. She could kill the beast with her noble phantasm but doing so had the risk of injuring everyone in the main entrance area, including Lancer.

A shifting at his side drew his attention away from his servant. The old man spoke while walking away, expecting Shirou to follow. "We have no choice anymore, we have to kill her. If she lives, there is a possibility that she will kill me or report my location to the Clock Tower."

"Luvia wouldn't-"

The man abruptly stopped and span around on his heels. "Leaving her alive jeopardizes our entire family's safety. Are you going to willing allow Illya to be put in danger?" An accusing, angry finger was pointed in his direction.

Shirou didn't even need to think of an answer to such an obvious question. "No, I'm not. I promised I would protect her no matter what."

The Magus Killer turned again and resumed his pace in the original direction. "Then it's time to keep your word. Can you hold off Rider?"

The question was expected and Shirou knew the answer. Thankfully his father wasn't watching his face so he wouldn't be able to detect the lie he answered with. "I should be able to. She only uses a riding crop."

The chances he had against Rider were admittedly high. If he had any mana to use in the slightest and his body was in peak condition. At that moment, neither of the two were true so his chances were abysmally poor. But, if fighting Rider would protect Illya, win or lose, he didn't really care.

"If you can keep Rider out of the picture for a moment, I should be able to kill Luvia. Unfortunately, the best spot for an ambush happens to be outside Illya's room, so our margin of error is slim."

A voice called out through the halls behind them, Shirou's name in a sickly sweet voice that was anything but tempting. "Why have you run off, is it because you aren't fit to handle a woman like me? Of course you aren't, but wouldn't you like to try?"

Shivering at the thought, Shirou kept tight to his father's tail. "Whatever you have in mind let's do it quickly. I don't want to be near that woman any more than I have to be."

The man quickly and wordlessly led the way down the halls through a large sitting room, past where Shirou had first awoken less than an hour prior. When the man spoke again, they were within another open conference-type room that featured a fireplace, lavish chairs and bookshelves laden with reading material. About to ask what his father had in mind, the man explained with action by standing in the corner and withdrawing runes from his pockets.

"Move to the other side of the room and prepare to fight Rider. We need to wait for Luvia to enter for this to work." Carefully, the man stuck two runes on the two walls of the corner, then placed two more upon the floor perpendicular to the others.

Not bothering to ask anything more, Shirou followed his father's guidance and moved toward the far side of the room, placing a luxurious but dusty loveseat and coffee table between himself and the door. When he turned around to face where they entered, he was surprised to find his father had disappeared from thin air.

Assuming it was something intentional, Shirou quickly scanned the room for something he could use. A fire poker in a cast-iron stand caught his attention and with a small reach, the boy prepared his makeshift weapon for what was bound to come through the door.

Closing his eyes, he used what little mana had been regenerated to reinforce the weapon into something only slightly better. It wouldn't be able to go up against Berserker, but it wouldn't have trouble against a mere riding crop.

Within seconds, the servant casually stepped into the room and produced a haughty pout after spotting Shirou. "There you are. I almost thought you ran away on me but you were just moving to a more private area." The bright smile and gleaming wide eyes of the woman grew even more so. "How adorable."

He couldn't explain why, but a harrowing feeling was growing within the recesses of his mind. Something was fundamentally _wrong_ with the woman and it went beyond her being a servant. His instincts told him to run, but he knew it wasn't an option being so close to Illya. "Just shut up and fight me."

The woman visibly shivered. "So forceful, quite brave; as a warrior should be. Are you certain you wouldn't like to entertain your _other_ desires with me?" To accentuate her point, the woman fluidly ran both hands down the sides of her body with a gyration of the hips to form some twisted sensual display.

He wasn't about to lie and say it wasn't interesting to him in the slightest, but he could easily keep his body in check after all the " _training_ " of a similar type that Rin and Sakura had put him through. "The only desire I have is to kick your ass."

The servant continued her sultry dance, unphased by his brusque response. "It's so much better when they refuse to give in to their primal urges. There's something arousing about a man who can defy expectations. Regardless, it's only a matter of time before you forfeit that stubborn will. Come forth, _My Red Mead_."

One arm trailed up the side of her body and extended outward. From the tips of her fingers, sparkles of glittering mana flowed down to create something corporeal. She was forming a weapon of some type, maybe even her noble phantasm. He could have stopped her from completing the process, but doing so had a possibility of disrupting his father's plans. Regardless of what he _wanted_ to do, the best option was to wait and see.

The sparkles of mana solidified and steadily formed an admittedly large but rather plain, corked glass bottle. Was it a trick? What sort of attack could be made with a bottle from a distance beyond just throwing it? With deliberate, smooth movements the woman gripped the bottle and popped the cork. No liquid or drink of any sort flowed from its mouth, but a torrent of gaseous golden fibres that swirled around the room. In an instant, Shirou was enveloped by the vapours and an overpowering sweet smell invaded every crevice of his nose. Honey, warm spices and a soft bite of alcohol. At that moment the aroma dominated every other sense he had. The room around him swirled, his legs and eyes grew tired and heavier than they already were.

He nearly gagged at the intensity but rapidly grew accustomed. It was pleasant, it felt fulfilling, intoxicating. Most of all, he found himself desiring to get closer to the source and drink whatever fluid produced such an inviting scent. It was strong enough to make his face contort but sweet enough to entice him into getting another smell.

Weightlessness spread through his body as the first lungful reached his bloodstream. There was something wrong and pervasive about such a scent, though how could something so inviting be anything bad? With each inhale, his mind grew foggy and his vision focused on a single point: the bottle in Rider's hand. Soft words - the voice of an angel - beckoned him onward. "Please, come drink of my mead."

Before he could stop himself, his body began moving toward her on its own volition. Three steps forward, the sensation of wrongness grew ever more pervasive. It was abrupt, but his rational senses came reeling back in full force. With a shake of the head, Shirou stopped moving and gripped his makeshift weapon to make an attack.

Rider appeared genuinely surprised at the reaction, but her bright smile returned almost as quickly. "You're stronger than I expected, but it doesn't matter. No matter how hard you try, you've been mine since the bottle was opened."

Despite how fiercely he wanted to resist, a weight upon his body was returning and his ability to move on his own accord was fading at the same rate. The fire-poker in his hand clattered on the floor as his hand involuntarily opened and his legs returned to move toward Rider.

His body was moving again but it wasn't because he wanted it to. He was like a marionette being pulled by invisible strings. Despite how much he tried to fight against his own body, it had something entirely different in mind. The proximity to the source strengthened the aroma and the boy could actively feel his reluctance and sense of danger fading away.

His eyes blinked and reopened to the bottle being lifted to his lips and a hand pressing against the back of his head, coaxing him on. He opened his mouth to complain but it had been a mistake: sweet, stinging alcohol flooded his mouth, taking advantage of his blunder. The overwhelming flavour reflexively made him swallow and the haziness of his mind grew exponentially.

It felt as if he were rapidly slipping into a deep sleep. His body became dissociated and his senses ebbed away into uniform tranquillity. Then Shirou realized his limbs were moving fluidly without any command on his part. His own hands gripped the edges of the bottle to drink deep, and despite any signal from his brain to stop and think, his body refused to listen.

After two large mouthfuls of alcohol, the hand on the back of his head gripped tight at his hair and reared his head back. "I told you it was only a matter of time. You're mine now, whether you like it or not." The words were ominous, but nothing was as ominous as the subtle shifting of Rider's voice.

Blinking and turning toward the servant, someone else stood in her place.

"Tohsaka?"

Rin grinned wide with a soft blush on her cheeks. "Of course you big dummy. Who were you expecting?" Her soft, playful voice brought on an odd sensation. The last time he had heard her speak so affectionately to him was more than a year ago before Luvia ever appeared in Fuyuki and before the Grail War was ever more than a distant thought. It made him realize how much he missed her. It was a simple thing, being able to talk and be around one another, but it was a luxury he had been without for a long time.

Shirou blinked and his mind tried to vault this newly encountered hurdle. It was impossible for her to be here, but there she was. Someone else had been in her place, but for the strangest reason, he couldn't remember _who_. It was like his memories of the past ten minutes had almost been cut out entirely.

"Well, I-" he paused, examining her face. It was as he remembered just a few days ago, down to the last detail. With tentative hands, he reached out to run his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was soft, smooth and the girl softly yielded to his touch. Withdrawing, he trailed the same hand down one tail of her hair, running the end through his fingertips. Both were as he knew them to be, so why did it seem as if she wasn't real? "I don't really know."

The door behind her opened and someone else he knew stepped into view.

"Sakura?"

Her mouth moved, but a voice producing incongruous syllables reached his ears. "Rin and I have been cooperating. We've figured out a way for us to work together!"

The boy's mouth opened but couldn't form the words his brain wanted to. Instead, he looked down at his hands and verified that he was himself at the very least. Examining his open palms, he could find no obvious problems. Everything was real, it had to be, right?

Two soft hands slid overtop of his own, directing his attention back up to Rin. "We can work together now, all of us."

The boy paused for a moment before softly nodding in agreement and gripping her hands tight. "What about your servant?"

The girl stepped back, leading him through the door out of the room. "He won't be a problem. It's all been sorted out." It was hard to believe, but Tohsaka was a woman who routinely tied up all her loose ends.

Before Rin could lead him out of the room, she suddenly stopped and peered over his shoulder. Something within the room was interesting to her, but Shirou was unable to see it when he tried to look for himself. "Is Illya with you?"

A stabbing pain hit the front of his skull. He repeated his sister's name like it was foreign to him. "She's sleeping. Someone did something to her and she won't wake up."

Rin smiled warmly. Once again her mouth moved but the words he heard didn't quite line up. "Well, I should be able to help with that."

His confusion and sense of wrongness were replaced with a small sense of hope. Whether she was unconscious for a day or a minute hardly mattered. Her health was the only important thing. "If you think you can," he murmured.

"Show me where she is." Nodding in confirmation, Shirou released one of Rin's hands and carefully led her through the room into the next, entering a small room that appeared to have been recently cleared. Unlike the other areas within the Einzbern Castle that appeared dilapidated, were filled with rubble or antiquated furniture, nothing but a mattress laden with heavy quilting and two chairs furnished the room. On the mattress, covered with the quilting, was a peacefully sleeping Illya.

With haste, the boy dropped Rin's hand and moved to kneel at his sister's side. More than anything he wanted to ensure she was in good health with his own eyes.

A look told him little. A touch and trace showed minor dehydration but nothing to be concerned about. A hand in his shoulder brought him away. "It's too dangerous for me to wake her up here. Berserker or Rider could appear."

Despite how strange it sounded, Shirou couldn't help but agree. Carefully, the boy wrapped his sister in the blanketing and hoisted her up into his arms bridal style. Even after standing and adjusting both himself and Illya to be comfortable, the girl didn't stir. And while her limp form was somewhat unwieldy, she was light enough to render it manageable.

"Are we going back to your house then?"

The Tohsaka nodded. "Yes, I have the resources there to break whatever spell is affecting her. We just need to get past Berserker."

As far as Shirou knew, there was only one entrance and exit to the castle. They could waste time and search for another, safer route but there was no telling how long that would take. A soft whisper in his ears told him to follow Rin's plan and he quickly found himself agreeing.

Unable to guide him by the hand, Rin and Sakura settled for walking behind and in front of him respectively. With another blink, he was standing at the top of the stairs overlooking the main entrance area again. Below, Lancer and Berserker were still locked into battle.

When the two disengaged to take a small break, Shirou realized that Lancer was actually _winning_. While he was perfectly fine, Berserker was gasping heaving breaths, was covered in slowly bleeding wounds and seemed to be babying his right arm.

The two motionlessly stared at one another for a while. When Shirou expected them to launch into another bout of blows, Berserker collapsed on one knee. With a high-pitched click, the tip of his blade connected with the floor in an attempt to lift himself up.

Despite the effort, he was unable to coax his body into complying and with ominous intent, Lancer started to walk forward so he could finish the job.

The world grew hazy for a moment and the edges of his vision and everything within blurred. Like a record skipping over a corrupted portion, images flickered backwards and forwards before realigning themselves where they were supposed to be.

When things normalized, Lancer was looking directly at him. Before Shirou could congratulate his victory, a hand gripped at the back of his collar to hold him still. Wordlessly, Tohsaka moved past him but something new struck his nose.

Something sweet and spicy. An alluring aroma that he honestly could admit to wanting more of. It wasn't entirely the correct time for such thoughts, but he wondered if Rin had decided to use a new perfume.

While Rin moved down the stairs, Lancer migrated across the room to stand imposingly at the entrance of the castle, seemingly uncaring of Rin's approach. The two conversed, but for some reason - likely the distance - he was unable to hear what was said. Uncertain as to what he was watching, a set of hands gently pressed against his back to urge him onward. Following Sakura's guidance, he reached the base of the stairs. From the new vantage point, he was unable to see everything transpiring between Rin and Lancer, but their lack of movement meant it was anything but good.

In a flash that Shirou barely caught with his eyes, the blade in Lancer's hand was swung and Rin only barely managed to escape its length. In incredulity, Shirou shouted out, "Lancer what the hell are you doing?" As he did, the Tohsaka slid across the cracked floor and fell onto her back after stopping.

It was only after looking at her again that he discovered he had been wrong. Rin hadn't escaped the weapon, she had just avoided being severed in two. A thin red line appeared over her abdomen and blood trickled from the fresh wound.

Sakura's voice called out her sister's name and Shirou found himself doing the same. The boy stepped forward, but he was reluctant to set Illya down on the cold floor. "Lancer, it's Rin, what's wrong with you?"

Lancer spoke but his lips made no movement. "My master has given me strict instructions to guard her against all enemy masters. This includes Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou."

Shirou growled in anger. "Rin isn't an enemy, stand down!" The woman in question stood from the ground slowly, patting at the wound on her stomach while she moved back toward the staircase.

Lancer stood motionless at the entrance with his sword held out from his side. "My master gave me further instructions in the case she is rendered unconscious: Protect her at all costs. This includes deeming her own brother as an enemy if necessary."

Shirou struggled to understand the logic and even paused as whispers urged him to consider it in depth. Blinking, Shirou found himself a dozen steps closer. "Can't you see I'm just trying to help her? I'm ordering you as a master to get out of our way."

"That won't be happening."

By the time Shirou blinked, a blade of ivory and gold was being thrust in his direction. There was no time to ask how Lancer had closed the distance or why he was attacking in the first place but one thing was clear: The position of his attack would end up killing both himself _and_ Illya.

Whispers told him to stand still, that the servant wouldn't commit to his attack and he would be fine but his instincts screamed the opposite. Even if his body had been reinforced and he had been expecting the attack, the shocking speed was more than he could handle.

There was only one option, only one chance at saving Illya.

Both arms simultaneously shot out from under her, letting her limp form fall to the cold ground. Keeping his arms out, the boy pushed himself back to try and spare his own life but was too slow.

The blade slipped under his shoulder and in one motion-

Burning agony struck his left arm from the shoulder to his fingertips and as the boy stumbled backward from the force of the attack, he intently watched Illya's form to ensure she was safe.

Lancer stood just before Illya with blade in hand. Something strange was the lack of blood: the pain in his appendage left no doubt that he had been injured. After certifying that Lancer wasn't going to harm his sister, the boy looked himself over starting with his hands.

Bringing both to his face, he only found one.

His eyes shifted from focusing on his hands to something in the distance, an eerily familiar limb severed at the shoulder.

… … …

Since they left the forest outside Fuyuki, she hadn't said a word.

Rin had been meticulously analyzing the encounter with Assassin the entire trip and based on the set expression upon her face, she wasn't even close to fully deciphering the information.

Producing an audible sigh, Archer closed his eyes. "You shouldn't think so hard, people might start to think Fuyuki is on fire."

The Magus didn't even turn back to scoff in his face. "If you're so smart then tell me what Assassin meant by all that."

"I've never been one for riddles, I would have thought you of all people would know that."

Rin nodded and her voice turned sickly sweet. "You're entirely right. Here I thought that age brings intelligence and wisdom when it only brings sarcasm and narcissism."

The insult was biting, but nothing he hadn't heard before. "Living around you for so long has a way of doing that."

That was enough to get her to stop and face him, just as he had intended. Despite being from an entirely different timeline, Rin would always be Rin and that meant she was always easy to tease. "You're supposed to be helping me, not just insulting me all day."

It wasn't the response he was expecting and it hit rather close to what little of his pride he retained. "Then find me something I _can_ help with. You forget how this agreement is supposed to work."

Rin opened her mouth but another voice spoke on her behalf. "Why don't you remind me? Looks like I forgot." The voice was cocky, energetic and thankfully familiar. While Rin was still trying to isolate its point of origin, Archer himself locked onto the signature of a servant leaping from a nearby rooftop.

With a soft thud, two entwined figures landed off to the side. It was a master and servant, no doubt about it. The servant released a woman from his arms and the two quickly separated to take their own fighting stances. One, a man with bright blue hair, Archer recognized immediately while the other, a woman fully clad in burgundy, was someone brand new. Despite recognizing who the man was, he was fundamentally different. His hair was longer, his face sharper and his attire was shocking, to say the least. It was Cú Chulainn verifiably, though it wasn't at the same time.

Rin's voice made a grating statement of the obvious in his mind, nearly driving him to roll his eyes. It was a servant; normal people didn't usually come flying from the darkness so ominously. Acting as a servant, he stepped ahead of Rin and held out one arm as a signal for her to stay back. "And who are you supposed to be?"

The servant in blue produced a cocky smile and span the staff in his hand around to rest on his back. "You must have some pretty awful memory, kid. Would you believe that I'm an Archer?"

"Only if your projectile of choice happened to be feces," the servant shot back.

The servant scoffed but retained his predatory grin. "Still cocky even after I almost killed you, guess I'll have to do the job right this time."

The woman he had carried into battle raised both fists and spoke in a strong accent. "You deal with him, I'll take down his girlfriend."

The servant span his staff around to face forward and foreboding symbols appeared at the face of its large head. "As you wish, master. It was a stupid idea to wander the streets without your servants."

"We'll see how-"

"Hey!" A shout from the Irish woman garnered both the servant's attention. "Are you pansies going to kill each other or have an emotional dialogue over tea?" Scorned like puppies, the two servants focused on one another.

Opening his hands, two perfectly opposed weapons formed within. Archer knew how this opponent operated but only as a Lancer. All of his experience fighting the same servant time and time again was absolutely useless. In this war, however, that wasn't anything new.

The first attack was made by his opponent. A bullet-like fireball that aimed for his head. It was slow enough to sidestep entirely but halfway through the motion, Archer found that it tracked as well. Snapping one arm upwards, the fireball was struck in the air only to explode and bathe his body in hot flame.

While painful with the potential to cause harm, it dissipated too fast to be anything more than a minor annoyance that burnt off his bodily hair. If nothing else, it told him that those projectiles were best to be outright avoided.

"Caster then," the servant murmured to himself. Cú Chulainn taking such a peculiar role was enough to make Archer laugh. To see the former cocky spearman degrading his alternate identity by flinging balls of flame from his staff all while half-naked was incredibly amusing.

Caster's smile grew even wider. "And you're just some faker. Nothing but a kid trying to play servant!" With a small spin, the man launched his staff high into the air. Distracted by the strange move, Archer was slow to spot Caster's real move: forming several runic symbols in front of him with both hands.

Making a sharp inhale, Archer swiftly lobbed both weapons in his grasp toward the enemy. Leaping backward, a bow formed itself within his grasp and arrows queued up for production. Unsurprisingly, Caster was able to evade the two weapons thrown at him, but his attack had already been fired. Fireballs by the dozen were fired in Archer's direction and it hardly took more than a cursory visual trace to see how much mana each one contained. The initial attack didn't even hold a candle to the power contained in this volley.

With the bow drawn back, an arrow formed from within his mind. Releasing the string, the arrow was fired. Halfway to its target, the projectile split and multiplied several times over. Each one seemed to take on a mind of its own, tilting ever so slightly to fly directly into each fireball. The array of incoming projectiles erupted into a wall of flame that totally obscured the servant within.

Nocking another arrow to fire, Archer heard a loud clang as the staff that had been thrown into the air embedded itself in the ground a short distance ahead. A shape lunged straight through the wall of flame, but the distraction had already taken place. Before Archer could even react, Caster had reached and freed the staff from the ground.

The speed and unexpectedness coupled with Archer's poor choice of weaponry for the distance meant he was practically defenceless against a jabbing strike from the pointed end of the staff. Even after trying to block the strike with his forearms, the weapon slipped straight between his arms and struck his midsection. On contact, the innocuous blow exploded with a wave of mana-made pressure, blowing him backwards across the pavement into a nearby building back first.

Thankfully he hadn't gone through the wall, but the wind had been knocked out of his lungs entirely as his diaphragm struggled to recover. Battling a Caster that was skilled in physical attacks was unnatural, but that wasn't exactly what had caught him off guard. Caster's movements, his responses to attacks were too natural. It was almost as if he knew Archer's next move as if his tactics were an open book.

But that was impossible. There was no way another servant could understand his fighting style. "While I'm surprised you survived that attack, you're still no match for a servant. Better to just give up now and die peacefully."

The condescending words from the Hound of Ulster were an annoyance, but Archer was angrier at the fact that his movements were so easily read. Caster believed he was a human, so the cause was undeniably Shirou Emiya's doing. That boy was going to experience a painful death once Archer could get his hands on him.

It was time to switch things up. Pulling himself free from the wall, Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in his hands once again. Pausing a half-beat, Archer spoke three ominous words: "Watch your back."

Before Archer even spoke, Caster's eyes widened and his body twisted to look back at the sensed danger. The two weapons Archer had initially thrown were flying back toward their owner at a surprising speed. The servant was forced to use his staff to repel the incoming weapons, allowing Archer to lunge forward off the wall and make a brutal horizontal slash with both weapons.

Caster only just managed to manipulate his staff to block the attack. Where his speed prevailed, however, his strength faltered. Unable to fully stop the blow, Archer's swords collided with his chest and slid the servant back along the pavement. It was as powerful as Archer had expected. The staff Caster wielded was embedded with intricate runes hidden inside the grain structure of the wood. Archer knew little of rune magic but understood that it was extremely variable. Somehow, it had diminished the impact of Kanshou and Bakuya.

Regardless of how diminished the strength was, two parallel, identical cuts began to bleed on his chest. Nothing more than a scratch, but at least it was something.

Caster peered down at his body, then drew one symbol over the injured area. In an instant, the wound sealed itself closed and appeared as if it had never existed in the first place. A servant that could heal, use extraordinary magic and hold his own physically. It wasn't going to be an easy fight.

Hopefully, his master was having a better time with her opponent.

… … …

Her best chance was to hope Archer could handle Bazett's servant.

She was a genuine enforcer, a person even Shirou would struggle to take down. In comparison, Rin herself was no more threatening than a mosquito. Just like the proverbial mosquito, she was under the scrutiny of Bazett's striking palm. That exact palm had almost squashed her entirely. It was only due to a well-timed burst of reinforcement that spared her life, a technique taught to her by Shirou.

As lousy as he was at being a magus, he was an undeniable master in reinforcement and projection and she would take advantage of his knowledge where she could. Ducking underneath another straight punch, Rin used the edge of a curb to push herself away and put some breathing room between them.

Why the hell did Shirou have to get involved with one of the Clock Tower's most notorious enforcers anyway? Sure he got a little training but it was really coming back to bite them in the ass now.

"If you quit moving it will hurt a lot less." The enforcer's voice was clipped, controlled and entirely void of emotion. It was unlike how Rin remembered her to be.

Clenching her jaw, Rin's mind moved at a thousand miles an hour trying to create a path to victory. The only option she had at that moment was to toy with Bazett's psyche and pray that it diminished her guard. "Or do you want me to give up because you can't kill me if I don't?" The question made the woman's eyebrow twitch. If this plan worked, then she could…

" _I have a plan to defeat the enemy master, but I need your help."_

Archer took his time to respond, but Rin could listen to Bazett's response while waiting. The woman sighed, cracked both knuckles through her gloves and offered a chilling glare. "And here I was just trying to make it easier. I guess you really want to die painfully."

Rin nearly gulped. Her plan had been a little more than short-sighted as it turned out. At the very least, her _other_ plan was still a possibility. " _Do you think we're having tea over here?"_

As if to accentuate his jaded retort, a fiery explosion illuminated the night street. Rin was about to reprimand her servant for possibly alerting normal people to magic, but their individual lives were much more important. She could handle damage control later. " _All I need is a single arrow when I ask for it."_

The Irish Enforcer raised her fists to return to the offensive. In the time it took to blink, she had cleared the distance between them and re-entered striking range.

It was on sheer reactions alone that Rin managed to twist her body and avoid a jab aimed straight at her nose. Her joints complained of the sudden motion by producing a soft, painful pop. She was a magus goddamnit, not some martial artist. A battle was supposed to be won using magecraft and finesse. Bazett used neither of those things, so it made sense that she could only be defeated by discarding them as well. Rin had managed to injure Bazett once years ago, who was to say that she couldn't do it again?

There were two more jabs thrown at her abdomen, each barely missed by skimming the sides of her body. The speed and force of even light contact were enough to form a bruise. Even taking glancing strikes, with all things considered she was going quite well.

Ducking beneath a hook, backing away from a short jab and reaching into her pocket all came next. Withdrawing a sword-shaped gem from within, Rin chanted a quick, simple spell in German before lobbing it between their feet toward the ground.

Like a smoke bomb on steroids, the entire city block was instantly engulfed in thick opaque smog. It was an escape tactic, but it was going to help her go on the offensive. Darting right from her last known position, Rin carefully took the long way round to circle behind her target.

Due to the smog being a construction of her mana, she was able to detect abnormalities within its space. Using that feature, she could locate Bazett without using her eyes.

As the enforcer struggled to see her and clear the smog, Rin reinforced her right arm and delivered a desperate jab to the base of Bazett's neck. Colliding with the woman's skull, Rin expected her to drop to the ground, paralyzed from the neck down.

Then a foot came flying out of nowhere. All Rin could do to defend herself was put her arms over her abdomen and even then, it was a paltry attempt. Her arms were forced into her stomach and the wind was forced from her lungs as the impact carried through the rest of her body.

Shock took over and left everything a muffled mess. It was only after seeing the ground upside down that she realized the attack had launched her into the air.

Bouncing off the pavement, her sense of touch and pain came flooding back. Unable to gasp in a breath, the girl grabbed at her torso and looked up at her opponent.

There were a couple of dozen feet between the two and Rin was in the perfect position for her next move. Fighting through her heaving lungs, the Tohsaka reached into her pocket to withdraw another gem.

 _"Archer, please tell me you can take a shot."_ Despite her pained cry for help, she only received silence. It was enough to cause panic, but she could feel the servant's steady drain on her mana supply so he was still alive.

Clutching the gem tight, Rin maneuvered her arm while keeping an eye on the enforcer. She was reaching for the back of her neck and patting tenderly. After withdrawing it from the spot, even Rin could see the bright crimson blood on her fingers. If an attack like that had barely made her bleed would her next one be effective at all?

She could ask questions later. For now, she had to hope it would be enough to scare Bazett off at least. " _I can't wait for you anymore, I need you to make this shot."_ Rin channelled mana into the gem and activated it with a short incantation. As awkward as it was to throw from a prone position, Rin managed to lob the gem in her hand high and far toward Bazett. The glowing gemstone span randomly in the air, producing small beams of light like a miniature disco-ball.

Rightfully wary of the potential attack, Bazett raised both arms to defend herself. The gem reached the apex of its throw and began to fall toward Bazett's feet. Fear slowly settled in the pit of her stomach. Archer wasn't there, he wasn't able to shoot the gem. Rin had one last-ditch effort available, but it was supposed to be her ultimate holdout. Using it on her first opponent in the War seemed like a waste.

When nothing happened, the enforcer partly lowered her guard and as the gem landed on the ground harmlessly, the woman fully dropped her arms. "Didn't know magecraft could even have duds."

Archer had let her down.

Rin could only blink in shock. Shock from the unreliability. Archer and Shirou were different people, but she had expected them both to retain some characteristics at least. If Shirou was anything, he was reliable. He had been at her beck and call for years, always standing there beside her when she needed him - and she had been there when he needed her as well.

Like an admirer standing before a great work of art, comprehension came all at once. The two were never supposed to be apart. They needed one another to lean on, giving and taking to support and grow together. As much as he needed her to guide him away from becoming Archer, she needed him for protection and safety.

She was stupid to turn him away when he offered to work together, but what other choice did she have? He had walked away after his future self almost killed him on the spot. He had all rights to abandon her after such a near miss. She couldn't do anything but regret her servant's foolish mistake.

Now?

Now she was regretting more than that one mistake. That brazen, unprovoked attack should have been a sign of servant-Shirou's unreliability, but she had foolishly ignored it at the time. If he couldn't even listen to a simple order not to kill someone, how could he be expected to help her anywhere?

Bazett took a step forward before a soft fluttering caught the attention of both women. Before Rin or the enforcer could even comprehend what it was, a single crimson arrow pierced the motionless gemstone.

Rin had no time to be happy that Archer had come through. There was a soft crack, but it was instantly drowned out by a massive explosion that rattled the very earth. A wave of heat, a blast of breath-taking pressure and the hair-raising tingle of ambient static electricity. Everything struck simultaneously and all Rin could do was ride out the sensation with her head down and eyes closed.

Flying debris sporadically pelted her head and sides of her body for several seconds until the heat started to subside. With the coast believed to be clear, Rin hesitantly pulled her head up to see the resulting damage.

It was incredible, both in scale and intensity. The entire street block they had been fighting in was more like a demolished war zone. Craters lined the ground and chunks of destroyed infrastructure were scattered about. Some chunks were still falling from the sky and settling into piles.

The air was hot and filled with the ambient crackling of residual rogue mana. She knew from the test that it would discharge, but it was a question of where, when and for how long. That gem Shirou tested with her was one-tenth the power of the one just used; there was no telling what sort of discharge would come about.

It took a moment, but Rin eventually located Bazett, who despite all odds had survived the explosion in admittedly decent shape all things considered. Major portions of her suit had been blown away and blood coated the right side of her face, but she was breathing and semi-conscious. Embedded in a pile of rubble against a crumbling building, the woman was already hoisting herself onto her feet. With the threat of a mana discharge taking place at any moment, Rin remained lying on the ground. The enforcer managed to stand on her feet but every hair on Rin's body stood upright. The very roots within her scalp tingled from the residual energy in the air.

Just as her follicles had predicted, there was a bright flash of light and an ear-splitting clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning propagated within the street. The bright blue jagged beam dissipated slowly over several seconds, but the mere pressure from its release had thrown Bazett back into the pile of rubble.

Rin slowly lifted herself off the ground. Considering that another discharge could happen at any moment, it was a risky gamble. She was covered in a fine layer of concrete dust and dirt but a hasty brushing removed most of it.

Looking back to her enemy, she found her to be standing upright again. Judging by the expression on her face, she was less than ecstatic over the turn of events. "Why can't you kids just use the same damn attacks like every other magus."

It was meant to be an insult, but Rin took it as a compliment. The enforcer made a step in her direction but stumbled and steadily realized the state of herself. The blast had scarred the lower half of her body and somewhere between the epicentre and the wall, her shoulder had dislocated itself as well. Realizing these facts at the same time as Rin, the enforcer made a soft tsk with her mouth. "You haven't won, we're just going to regroup and rethink our strategy."

Just before Rin could ask what the enforcer meant by "we,'' a figure in blue leapt into view from the side. It didn't take more than a glance to note that it was her servant, and Rin cautiously stepped back.

The servant was focused on something else and it became readily apparent what it was when a crimson shape landed on the rubble-laden street in front of Rin. "I didn't think I had to tell you, but you should try to keep collateral damage to a minimum. I imagine every servant in all of Fuyuki saw that discharge."

His scolding words were annoying, but at least she could feel moderately defended with a servant at her side. "I'm surprised, kid. Most humans can't keep up to even the weakest servant."

Rin could hear the tightening of hands on blade grips. "If that's the case, you shouldn't speak so low about yourself."

The servant in blue made a sharp, insulting laugh. "Sharp blade and sharp mind. If I didn't hate your guts we might have been friends."

"Sorry, I don't associate with wild animals." The comment had been enough to stunt the servant into silence. Carefully, the man moved to pick up his injured master. Noticing Archer's lack of response, the man quickly hefted her into his arms and leapt to a nearby rooftop to escape.

Rin coughed out a lungful of dust. "You're letting him get away?"

Archer continued to watch the distance, as if uncertain that the servant was really gone. "Both of our masters were injured: fighting any further had the risk of killing you both. Mutually assured destruction is worse than nothing at all."

Considering his words, Rin actually agreed. Looking around the area again, the Tohsaka made note of the scale of destruction. It was unlike anything she had seen before. While the severity of devastation was extreme, its scope was clipped short. It was almost as if it had bounced off the boundaries of a forcefield, but the bounded field she had established at the start of the fight only prevented human sensory detection.

Rin could only hope that the civilians inside their houses hadn't been injured by the blast, but the War's mediator would handle any explanation and anyone that needed medical attention. "After Assassin and now whoever that servant was-"

"Caster," Archer supplanted.

"-and Caster, I think we're done for today. Can we ju-" The girl abruptly hesitated and looked down as a vibration struck her chest. Reaching down into her shirt, the girl withdrew a small teardrop-shaped pendant on a silver chain. It was incredibly dim but a shape within flickered like a candle in a soft breeze.

Archer turned, concerned over his master's spontaneous silence. "Is something the matter?" he asked, before noticing the stone in her hand. "Is something the matter?"

"It's that idiot, Shirou," she murmured, watching the shape within as if her life depended on it. A long time ago, as a precautionary measure, she had taken a sample of Shirou's blood and imbued it within a gemstone using formal craft. If she were someone with less honour or class, she could have devised a weapon that would have killed him instantaneously. Instead, she had made a rudimentary, voodoo tracking device that served as a type of life monitor as well.

Archer held his silence, watching the jewel in her grasp with interest. "Assassin is waiting for us in the forest, we can't go back for him." As the flickering within faded out entirely, Rin clenched her hand around it. "What the hell is he doing now," she whispered.

"Master, did you not want to win this War? To accomplish that, Shirou must die at some point."

Snapping her head up, Rin made note of Archer's odd expression. It was a mix of confusion and anticipation. "That's not true!" she shouted with more emotion than she intended. Clearing her throat, the girl refocused. "He doesn't have to die, only his servant does."

Archer rolled his eyes. "You are a Tohsaka magus. Of all people, you should understand more than anyone that the easiest way to accomplish that is by killing the master."

The heartlessness of her servant struck a chord deep in her mind and disturbed her more than she expected. Something deep in that servant's heart was broken and she could only see the cracks upon the surface. It provoked a thought: Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Shirou and Archer were nothing alike. With each strange decision and uncharacteristic response, Rin grew increasingly wary of her servant. He seemed more committed to killing masters than she was. What if he succeeded? If he went behind her back and did the job before she could even react like he almost had to Shirou?

Rin bit her lip and considered her next move for a moment. "Let's just go home," she decided, turning and stumbling in the direction of her manor. "There's nothing we can do."

* * *

 **There's nothing anyone can do, Rin.**

 **Shit has finally hit the fan and boy has it hit all at once. I won't detail what you've already read but I'll leave you with an interesting question: If Berserker is at the Einzbern castle... Why wasn't Caren there to stop him again?**

 **Maybe that will drive up some speculation in the reviews because not having a single review in over a month really hurts the soul. :(**

 **As always, remember to favourite, follow and leave those reviews!**


	27. Broken Reality

**Hazzah! My beta finally arose from the dead and graced me with some editing!**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait but he was very busy with things and just got some free time. When you leave a review (and you better) you can leave a nice comment to him for getting things finished up and to spur him on to do the next chapter.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter, I've realized just how much I love writing Assassin and even though this isn't the most action-packed chapter, there's still quite a lot of tension from other mediums.**

* * *

There was a moment.

A time when he had asked himself what his desires truly were. A time he'd examined what was available, and tried to determine a way he could reach his desires, and if they were what he truly wanted.

Countless times, he had been condemned by a force that was both familiar and foreign.

Countless times he had witnessed first-hand how foolish his desires were, and the type of man he would become if he followed them to their bloody end.

But…

It didn't matter.

No cost was too great.

Every confrontation ended the same way.

He was always too stubborn to give up his only wish and was drowned in responsibility as a consequence.

He had established his stubborn resolve willingly, fully understanding the cost and eager to bear the inevitable sins each time.

Even so, there had always been a line. A line he did not want to cross.

Something permanent and obvious, unmoving and whenever he got close to crossing, he consistently moved back to the start, unable to commit and slip into that preordained future that he understood so well.

…

That line was being blurred now.

How long did he have..?

… … …

… … ...

His arm had been severed, chopped off, amputated.

It was painful, but the pain was nothing compared to the psychological shock. It had all been so sudden, something had happened to his reactions and his body had just locked up for some reason. He was still able to protect Illya. He had been forced to drop her and his arm was missing, but she was alive.

Lancer had tried to kill him- No, that wasn't entirely correct. His blade positioning had been set to kill Illya first and then run him through afterwards. It was far worse than just trying to kill him but why a servant would try to kill their own master was a question he couldn't answer. It was illogical, though it had happened regardless.

Lancer took a step forward and flicked the blade around his wrist, pointing its sharpened tip down toward Illya's unconscious body. The act sent warnings through the boy's mind and flung his body into action. Without a care for his own personal safety, Shirou collided with Lancer shoulder first and barely managed to push him more than a few steps backward. It was enough to keep the threat away from Illya, but it wouldn't give him much time.

Like a flick switching off, the fuzziness in his mind was replaced with something new. The previous hazy sensation he had been under vanished and he experienced a brief flicker of ultimate clarity before an unbearable hot rage washed over his mind. It was frightening to himself as well, but only because it was so familiar.

" **I am the bone of my sword.** "

Before he could stop himself, the sentence had made it out of his mouth. Searing pain from both the stump of his arm and the base of his spine struck at the same instant. He had simultaneously enacted his reality marble and converted a nerve circuit into a magic circuit and the effect forced him to gasp.

" **Steel is my body and fire is my heart**."

Immediately his nose filled with the scent of gunsmoke and hot steel and a distant pounding of a persistent forge echoed in his ears with the beat of his heart. The second line stabilized his reality marble by slowing the progression of his sword-flesh and reducing the constant drain of keeping it active, but it still greedily consumed whatever mana remained in his body. It would be overestimating his ability to say he was running on fumes, but a singular thought was driving him forward.

With enhanced efficiency, a sword projected into his last remaining hand and his anger drove him forward. With a sharp yell, his attempted strike slid off Lancer's weapon. Before Shirou could even recover, an armour-clad hand backhanded the side of his face and threw his unbalanced body onto the ground toward his severed arm.

His head throbbed in agony at the impact and his eyes weren't cooperating to produce a clear image, but the sight of his former limb as he pushed himself up stirred an idea into his aching brain. Without hesitation, the boy jammed his sword into the ground to assist in lifting himself up. Leaving the sword in place once he was stable, he collected his amputated arm and brought the detached limb to the severed socket of his shoulder.

"Try as you might, it won't work," a voice told him.

Something cracked. The sound echoed not within the main entrance, but within his own mind. His field of view expanded greatly before it contracted to focus entirely on the arm in his hand. His senses grew hyperactive and his hearing was dominated by the wheezing of his lungs and the flowing of his own blood. It felt like he was floating in space, departed from everything but connected at the same time.

He was on the edge, but he couldn't tell what sort of edge it was or what it meant if he were to cross it. "People have told me that too many times," he murmured. "But only from people who know nothing about me."

The two severed ends touched and a disgusting fleshy noise sounded as countless overlapping swords met flesh. Despite the noise, Shirou pressed further against the socket and all at once it felt as if he was bathed in flames.

Harsh grinding and wet bursting noises sounded from his arm before something painfully warm splattered against his face. It was unquestionably the most excruciating thing he had ever experienced, far exceeding when he converted his nerves into circuits and when his entire torso was destroyed by Leysritt. The agony stripped his breath and strength away and made him feel like passing out but sheer determination left him standing and conscious. He paused to look, but the sight was too horrific for him to gather more than a glance.

His arm had been converted in blades from fingertip to shoulder. Its entire surface had been remade into sword-flesh and that was only the surface of the issue. Sporadically at points within the limb, large sword-like protrusions had violently erupted through the surface. Rather than just rebuild and preserve his own body, the sudden violent inclusion had brought on abnormalities.

The situation only grew worse. The joints in his reattached arm had failed and he only had limited motion of his elbow and the shoulder itself. Try as he might, his fingers would not budge from their limp half-open place. He wouldn't be able to hold a sword, but with his arm in such a condition, would he even have to?

Lancer spoke from ahead, but his voice was distorted and in a different tone than before. "What are you?"

Shirou recollected the blade he had used to lift himself up and prepared to fight. Adrenalin diminished the pain to a borderline bearable level, but it was a constant struggle to stand. "Just a boy," he declared proudly. Despite his valiant response, he could feel the steady progression of sword-flesh moving from his shoulder up his neck. It would only be a minute before it started converting the side of his head.

"You're a monster."

Lifting up his dulled arm like a makeshift weapon, he found sharp stabbing pain throughout despite the fact that it was recently severed. How nice it was for his reality marble to keep the nerves active. "If that's what I have to be."

Lancer flourished his blade and pointed it forward, still holding on with only one hand. "I don't know whether to compliment your bravery or chastise you for your idiocy. I suppose it will depend on how well you fight." The servant snapped forward and Shirou let his reflexes take over entirely.

His eyes clamped shut involuntarily, and a sharp grinding noise reached his ears. When they reopened, the sight of an ivory blade caught against his own arm came into focus. It had managed to hold back Lancer's strength. But it was only just accomplishing that. The force had managed to pierce the external layer of sword-flesh and spray a fine layer of blood on Lancer's face and neck. Just like his arm, it was anything but normal. Rather than crimson red, it was a dull rust colour and it acted more like a viscous slime as it struggled to flow downwards. Despite the strange viscosity, it dripped down the servant's skin and actually forced the man to flinch as it soaked between his skin and armour.

Not wanting to take the opportunity for granted, Shirou stabbed forward with the blade in his other hand. Seamlessly, the servant snapped his open hand upward to grab the blade before it could cause any harm. Watching Lancer rear his head back, Shirou gasped and a sudden impact against his forehead blurred his vision and filled it with spots of flashing light.

Shirou registered that he'd hit the ground, but his body autonomously pushed himself back onto his feet. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand to his head, but a sharp pain upon contact made him recoil the limb away.

His good hand had been sliced open and the sword-flesh was spreading from a new point now. Pairing up what had happened, he concluded that his head had been converted to sword-flesh after the most recent attack.

Performing a trace of himself confirmed the fact, but it also revealed how rapid and deep it was running. Its rate of spread had grown exponentially since he first started his reality marble and it was consuming more of his body than he had ever seen it take before.

It was bad.

It was _really bad_.

But he had to persevere to protect Illya, to protect his family.

He didn't have any more time to waste, so instead of allowing Lancer to take the initiative, the boy took some of his own and launched into an attack with his sword. Expectedly, the knight blocked Shirou's simple thrust and both of their weapons collided to produce a small patch of sparks.

Unexpectedly, Shirou snapped his wrist to angle his blade so that it could slide down Lancer's. Closing the distance, Shirou negligently swung his arm in a feeble attack.

Lancer moved exactly as predicted. His free hand shot out to grip his sword-flesh wrist, gripping tight and crunching the metallic skin. Just as quickly as the servant gripped him, his hand released and flew back in surprise. Despite wearing full armour, the contact had somehow pierced or gotten under without leaving behind any mark of puncturing. The resistance of Lancer's blade wavered, a signal that it was Shirou's time to gain the upper hand.

Using his reality marble's efficiency to his advantage, two projections formed within the air behind Shirou's shoulders in the time it took to blink. Lancer's weapon was caught against Shirou's crossguard, his weaponized arm thrust forward toward Lancer's abdomen and the boy's created projectiles fired all in the same instance.

Even for a servant, there was no way to react to all of the attacks at once. Prioritizing, Lancer jumped backwards. He managed to avoid the attack made by Shirou's arm but had taken a blade to each shoulder for his efforts. The weapons caused little, if any, real damage, which made the move advantageous as it was obvious that sword-flesh _did_.

The servant continued to move back across the tile, pausing to remove the two weapons embedded in his body. Before they could even hit the ground, they dematerialized into thin air.

The crack resounded within his skull again, but this time it was accompanied by a sudden violent pulse that initiated a full-scale migraine. It came in rapid sharp pulses which were accompanied by ringing metallic noises common to a forge. It was a sound he remembered only after hearing it, an indication of his spiralling descent into his reality marble.

The edges of Lancer's body seemed to melt and like a fading projector, the very image of him flickered between two different people. Through the door, a flash of white-blue light bathed the room in light for the barest moment. In a second, the sound of thunder echoed through the castle, a foreboding signal if he had ever heard one.

Giving his head a shake, the boy looked back toward Lancer to find some twisted mix of both Lancer and Berserker. It was as if the servant was in the midst of an identity crisis and couldn't decide who he was as half of his body flickered between the two servants.

The migraine only grew worse by the second. What started just behind his brain had spread to dominate his entire skull, pulsing and pounding in tune with the sound of metal forging. The agony was all he could focus on. Each attempt at forcing it away only brought it back with greater intensity.

The heat and pain coursing through his body were too much and his lungs struggled to keep up to the abuse. Desperate for a way to cool off and feel less constricted, he haphazardly tore at his outfit and stripped his upper body to bare his skin to the cool air. It was an uphill battle, though just as he felt that he could take no more, a sudden clarity struck him. The transition was jarring though for reasons he couldn't explain it felt natural. It was as if every pain receptor had shut down and his brain had started fresh.

Snapping his head back up to his former target, a new revelation hit him like a truck. It wasn't Lancer, but Berserker he had been fighting. It explained the servant's strange actions.

Looking toward Rin, he found none other than Rider with a disgustingly happy grin on her too-perfect features. Even Sakura wasn't who she seemed, replaced by Luvia who seemed equal parts confused and wary.

Trying to put things together, the boy scanned through his memories only to encounter a blank spot within one of the rooms in the castle. It took a little more investigation to realize that something had altered his view of reality. There was a high chance that it had been due to Rider's noble phantasm.

It was like his entire body had slammed the reset button, but there was an odd _emptiness_ as well that he could describe. The pain had vanished, his worries and concerns had vanished. All that remained was absolute concentration and determination to defeat the target ahead of him. Eliminating Berserker was the highest priority, to protect Illya.

His rush forward seemed reckless, but a methodical plan had already formed in his mind. Berserker stood calmly, tracking his advance and preparing his blade to block as Shirou made a slash.

But rather than allow their weapons to collide, the weapon in Shirou's hand exploded into a simple cloud of mana. As his hand passed through Berserker's guard, a new identical weapon formed in his grasp and was thrust upward.

Unable to deflect the attack, Berserker shifted his footing to move out of range. It was exactly what Shirou had planned. Two projectiles formed within the air and his circuitry came to life across his upper body. He briefly recognized that his heavily abused circuits had ruptured the skin of his back, but moved past it to complete his attack. Striding forward, Shirou pressed his body against Berserker's blade, jammed his own weapon forward toward the servant in vain and felt his body be punctured by two familiar weapons.

He did not cry out in pain as his own projections punctured his body, but the servant that had been splattered in blood did, for once. Reeling back, the servant clutched at his face, trying to scratch beneath his full-face mask in vain. His ashen white hair had been stained a brownish red and the cyan glow from the eyeholes of his mask had been covered in a rusted red as well.

Shirou stood back, watching the servant struggle. His decision had been obvious after watching it so many times. His blades were always ineffective, his tactics were always seen through. The only thing that worked time and time again was his sword-flesh. It pierced through Berserker's armour, it always made him flinch and on top of that, it was the only option Shirou had that could be used with such a battered body with limited reserves.

Struggling to focus on the battle and not the strange pain spreading through his body, the servant growled out a question. "What the hell have you done to me?"

There was no point in answering such a foolish question, it was just a waste of time. Rearing up his weaponized arm and the weapon in his functional hand, the boy prepared to make another attack, one that would hopefully end the servant once and for all.

There was no telling what the after-effects would be. The first time he used it, it had sent him into a miniature coma and that was at near full reserves. It was entirely likely that doing the same move now would kill him. Though, at the very least, he would take Berserker down with him. " _If that's what it takes."_

His circuits screamed in unfelt agony and the visible circuitry across his body burst through his skin, leaving behind lines of matching sword-flesh. There wasn't an ounce of mana left in his entire body, but whatever energy he could gather would be used in a single strike.

The projectile formed at eye-level and the boy reached out to touch it with his last useful hand. " **Time Alter-** "

The entire castle erupted violently and a blast of heat bathed the entire room from somewhere behind him. It all precluded a brilliant flash of light that pained the eyes to witness as he turned to look. Shutting them tight, Shirou covered his face with his forearm to keep some of the heat away.

The light faded but the heat remained and the sound of crumbling stone infrastructure echoed through the main room. In the direction the light had originated, a large half-molten hole remained in the wall. If he looked a little further, beyond the initial hole, he could see the charred remains of what he could only assume was Lectra's ether construct.

Its body was twitching and sizzling from the heat but it did not reform as it had with the other strikes. In fact, it started to meltdown into a congealed mass of blackened goo. Beyond the deceased creature, stood Saber. Excalibur was gleaming brilliant yellow in her hands and its entire surface steamed in the chilly night air. Servant and master locked eyes and fear bloomed within Saber's face. Her mouth moved but he was too far to hear and unable to read lips.

Ignoring her, the boy refocused on his opponent. Unexpectedly, a blur of blue, white and yellow collided with Berserker and sent the servant sliding back toward the entrance. The boy blinked as Saber dominated his vision. She had moved from the courtyard to strike Berserker in a moment but she was more concerned with him. "Shirou, you must gain control of yourself!"

From the side, Rider's voice reached him. "Don't listen to her, kill her for me, Shirou!"

Facing the pink-haired servant, Shirou levelled a stern glare. "Why would I take orders from you?" Each syllable of his voice was accented with a sharp screeching as if a battle of multiple blades was going on within his throat. "There's no reason to obey an enemy servant."

Rider's eyes opened wide in blatant surprise, but the woman was quick to react. It was less than two steps, but she hovered over Illya and lowered both her body and riding crop to trail across the quilting ominously. "Breaking out of my spell is _so_ rude. I'll have to pay you back by breaking something of yours."

Rider was a small target, any attack had the chance to be either too slow or deflect and strike Illya. Regardless, there was a moment that Shirou considered redirecting the attack intended for Berserker to hit Rider, even though it had the chance of outright killing his sister.

That thought alone held him back.

It scared him.

Why would he consider risking her life?

What was wrong with him?

There was a sharp cry of surprise and both Rider and Shirou threw their heads to look higher up the staircase. It came from Luvia, who was being grabbed by someone from behind. The fact that someone was there was less concerning than the gleaming blade pressed up against the side of her neck. The pressure against her skin was threatening to pierce it, but the man wielding it was skilled enough to keep it from doing so.

Of course it had been the Magus Killer, and he shot a steely gaze toward the pink servant below him. "Step away from her or your master dies," he spoke calmly.

Even to someone like Rider, it was obvious that he wasn't joking. Standing upright, the servant sighed. "Well, your threat isn't entirely baseless at least. But even without a master, I could still kill this girl and then you." Despite her cheery disposition, her words were colder than ice and the threat was very real. "Thankfully for you, I like my master and would rather keep her around."

A clank turned Shirou's attention back to Saber. "Berserker-"

"Hold your tongue, you poor excuse for a knight." The comment made Saber growl in blatant anger. The grip upon her blade tightened, her body clenched to snap forward to initiate combat. "I have lost interest in continuing this pitiful excuse of a battle." The servant extended his crimson blade to point at Shirou, who held a disinterested glare. "I do not wish to kill you yet. Horribly inefficient and self-destructive as it may be, I have gained an interest in your combat style."

Saber flinched, but the tension in her body eased up. She understood the advantage of having Berserker leave on his own will. Everyone except Luvia and Rider were battered and broken and each moment spent fighting only exacerbated their miserable conditions.

"Well, I guess that's all for tonight then." Rider sighed, peered back toward Luvia and smiled at the man holding her hostage. "I don't know how strong warriors of this time are, but that boy down there looks like he's at the end of his limit. If you'd rather he stay alive, you'd better decide whether you want to kill my master's friend or let her go with us."

Kiritsugu shuffled, lifted his free hand high and flashed three fingers to someone unseen. "Sharp eyes," he murmured while withdrawing the weapon from Luvia's throat.

Rider giggled and offered a smile though the voice she spoke with was full of ice. "Let's just say that I know how men like you work."

Shirou watched silently, preparing to strike Rider when she was most vulnerable with her guard down. Before he could organize a proper plan, the world twisted, shifted and his vision rapidly collapsed to a white pinprick before fading out entirely. He registered that he had hit the floor, but beyond that, he was at a loss.

It felt as if he were floating within empty space, dissociated from his former self. In the darkness, all of his senses were rendered vacant. Breathing out slowly, he realized how cold the air was and just how slow his thoughts were. More concerning was a pervasive feeling of emptiness.

Before long, the light returned. It was soft and distant at first, but gradually it grew larger, brighter and closer. Instead of the Einzbern castle, a new scene was played out before him.

It was familiar, it felt natural. It was the only real place he could feel at home. An empty, sun-baked plane of monotonous clay. The only companions to comfort him were blades of cold, unrelenting steel.

But that was fine.

They were the only things he could rely on.

They were the only friends he deserved.

… … …

… … …

Sakura opened her eyes slowly to the dim pink light of her room. Exhaustion beckoned she keep them closed, but for some odd reason, she was unable to get comfortable. Opening her eyes again, she tried to gauge the time based on the light of the sun against her curtains. It was odd, but she didn't remember closing them before she went to bed last night.

Turning over in her bed, the girl settled into a comfortable state and let out a relaxed sigh to return to her dream. It had started as a strange nightmare with her servant and odd phrases she couldn't understand. She had woken up in the middle of the night once that dream ended but quickly returned to sleep into something much more pleasant where she and Shirou were living together peacefully.

Stuffing her face into the pillow, the girl inhaled deeply and trailed one hand down the sides of her figure. The mere thought of her lover was enough to stir a warmth deep in her core. Moving to the source to indulge in her passion, the girl stopped short and remembered his guidance and the effects such an action on her part would cause.

Huffing in misery, Sakura held a mental conflict debating whether to just let loose or stick to Shirou's regime.

Despite the temptation, her affectionate dedication won and the girl withdrew her hand from beneath her blankets. Deciding to sleep in a little longer, the Matou nearly slipped off before something thin and cold crept across her cheek.

Reeling from the contact, the girl shifted her head to stare at the perpetrator. In case it had been grandfa- Zouken, she didn't dare scream. Thankfully it was someone else, but the sight of them wasn't any more consoling.

With her eyes on their form, the servant made a small gesture that led into a solemn, respectful bow. "We apologize, O master, but a developing situation is worthy of your intervention." Far from how it usually was, the servant's voice was soft, low and rather peaceful. The servant stood and their frightening visage burned itself into her mind once again. It was humanoid, but beyond that, there wasn't much she could really determine.

It was like a persistent shadow followed and concealed the servant's true form. All that was absolute, was the ivory mask upon their face. It was in the likeness of an upper skull, but round orbs of softly flickering blue flame sat in the otherwise hollow eye-holes.

Sakura knew little about her servant. In fact, she didn't even know if they were human, but their compassion toward her was admittedly nice. They hadn't even told her their true name, but that was hardly anything of importance. She wasn't anything like Rin or Shirou in terms of tactics, so she was reliant on Assassin's independent skill. One thing she did know, was that they were determined to protect Shirou - and that made them the best servant to her.

"What's the matter?"

"In the early morning before the rising sun, a situation out of our control arose. The Dragon of Blood managed to…" The servant trailed on then bowed their head sorrowly. "Your betrothed has…"

Sakura didn't understand the intended message immediately but after thinking about it she understood all too well. "Shirou? Where is he, is he alive?"

"For the former, we do not know. It is difficult for the servant of shadows to operate during the day." The servant paused. "As for the latter, such a question has a rather complicated answer, unfortunately."

Sakura struggled to sit up in bed before firing a confused glare at her servant. "How can it be complicated? Is he alive or dead?" It hurt to ask such a thing, but she needed to know.

"It is not whether he is alive or dead. The boy is still very much upon this earth. The question you should be asking is whether he is the same as you remember." The strange speech so early in the morning hurt her head. Knowing that this iteration of Assassin was the easiest to understand somehow made it worse.

"What do you mean?"

"You will see in time," the servant declared shortly. "For now we have a matter of greater importance." The servant raised one hand, an appendage with five thin, sharp digits like those from some sort of nightmare creature. Three fingers precariously held the top of a small bottle filled with thick crimson fluid. "Preventative maintenance."

Sakura sighed and reached out to take the bottle. After watching her drink Shirou's blood once, the servant had called the act " _preventative maintenance_ " and had been an active reminder as if they could sense the activity of the worms inside her. The only prevention she could think of that drinking blood could offer was from death. If she didn't take in outside mana, the worms within her blood would consume her from the inside out.

But there was more than that in Assassin's words. Doing something to prevent death was obvious and natural: breathing, eating and staying away from danger. The tone in Assassin's voice beckoned to something _more_.

Complacently, the girl grasped, uncorked and downed the vial, trying not to mind the irony, coppery flavour. Reminding herself that it had been a fluid once a part of Shirou, it got significantly better.

The servant kneeled, but their height was still enough for their head to peak above the edge of the bed. In a partially hushed tone uncommon to Assassin, they spoke. "Master, our proximity to a contractor and their slave is concerning. We advise a swift migration to a new stronghold."

Before she could answer, the door to her room opened and a sickly looking man hobbled into view on a cane. "Your opinion is noted but disregarded, Assassin. The girl remains here where I can keep a close watch and continue her training."

Assassin didn't speak or move for some time. Instead, they merely stared at their master like a dog waiting to be given a treat. "So foolish is the one who makes threats without the power to make good on them."

The old man laughed, unperturbed by the ominous words. "I had thought you were more intelligent than that. You are aware that I hold the girl's life in my hands, correct?"

There was a soft noise as if a wind had breezed through a row of trees. Sakura's eyes widened as more than a dozen variations of Assassin appeared behind Zouken. They held no visible weapons, but it was clear they were prepared to attack at the slightest movement. "A wise tactician makes a plan for each letter of the alphabet," the one near her bed claimed. "The wise plan for no undue casualties, however, straying from the original plan may result in small errors along the way." The servant at her bedside rose to their feet. They were different than the other similar copies. For starters, they were the only person who could actually contact her in her mind. That, and they were the sole copy who didn't speak in mind-bending riddles. For that reason alone, she had started to call them the _Original_. "We have ways to kill the unkillable."

The group surrounding the wicked old man cackled hollowly in a disjointed choir, though they did not budge so much as an inch. All at once, a low sonorous chanting of the word "Zabaniya," echoed around the room.

The Original turned to face the old man and with a gentle raise of the hand, the chanting ceased immediately. "Your lives are conjoined, so by all means." Like a game show host revealing a showpiece, the Original took one twisting step to the side and extended his arms to gesture in Sakura's direction.

The old man and her started at one another for what felt like an hour. Eventually, the old man broke eye contact and calmly looked at the Assassins surrounding him. "Do with her what you will, but understand I have access regardless of distance."

The Original nodded slowly. "If that is all you intend to say, off with you."

The old man's expression soured and his throat produced a gritty growl but he acquiesced and exited the room regardless. After leaving, Sakura beamed up at her servant with incredulity. "Nobody-" besides Kiritsugu "-has ever stood up to grandfather like that."

"It is as we said: We have the means and your keeper is too scared to see if our word holds merit."

Sakura threw her legs over the edge of the bed. "Are you really that powerful?"

The servant softly laid their hand on top of her head. "Answers are better left unknown, O master. Get dressed, we will be moving as soon as you are ready."

"Where?"

"A large cavern beneath Fuyuki. We have been gathering supplies for relocation for some time now. It was one of our first acts after realizing the situation." The Original stepped away from her bed and motioned to the remaining Assassins with one hand. With a bow of their heads, they all vanished simultaneously in a plume of black smoke.

"I guess it's nice to have so many people working for you," Sakura murmured while kicking off her bed. She needed to get dressed before she could leave.

The Original chuckled in a shockingly human fashion. "They do not _work_ for me. Each iteration is a _part_ of me, though the use of such a singular word is imprecise. We are us, the group is whole and no individual exists but at the same time we are all individuals with our own senses."

The girl scrunched up her face while moving to her wardrobe. "I don't understand. If you're not individuals how can you all be a group? Is each Assassin a version of you or something?" Growing more curious about her servant as they spoke, the Original strode about the room and touched the sparse few things spread about.

The servant was totally infatuated with a crystal figurine Shirou had gotten her for Christmas from Britain. A fist-sized, delicate swan with bright purple making up the inside of its body. It was a very treasured gift that she kept at the Matou manor for inspiration during her moments of weakness. The girl almost chastised her servant for touching it but held her tongue after noticing how delicate they were being in their careful examination.

Waiting for an answer, the girl decided to get dressed for the day. She didn't even mind having to do it in her servant's presence. With how many eyes they had across the city and the fact that they were connected through their minds, there was nothing she could do to stop the servant from watching if he wanted. "It is impossible to explain, but the simplest explanation is a fracture within reality. We are an aberration, an abnormality that shouldn't exist but does despite the odds. Due to this fact, we have certain limitations that other servants do not, certain weaknesses that must go unsaid lest they be exploited."

With a soft clatter, the servant set the trinket back down and moved on to the next item. "So you're special," the girl surmised, pulling a few outfits out of her dresser. If she was moving she would have to pack some clothes for the stay. Did she need to prepare for a lengthy stay? She didn't have very much in the way of clothing. "On the first night, didn't you say that one of your _parts_ died to a servant? Doesn't that mean you lost a part of yourself?"

"Correct," the servant replied simply. "It is far too complex to describe in the time we have. We beckon, prepare yourself O master as we must leave as soon as possible." The servant's head turned fully around to peer at her like an owl hunting prey. It was uncanny to witness and made the girl wonder if he had bones, but Assassin seemed unfazed. "We will await you outside."

Without another motion or word, the servant dematerialized into a black cloud of smog, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The first night, she had tried to watch Assassin, just to keep an eye on them and see what a servant was like in action.

It hadn't gone as expected. As soon as she connected with the servant, every one of her senses was overloaded. Her vision had flickered between dozens of different perspectives and each one was doing something in a new place. Since then, she had relied on word of mouth from the Original, who seemed to remain within earshot at all times.

She couldn't complain. They had promised not to hurt Shirou and if they could, they would even protect him. Taking a deep breath, Sakura focused on packing a bag and tried to push away thoughts of never seeing Shirou again.

… … …

… … …

Kiritsugu tapped the end of a pen once on the table, flipped it over his fingers and clicked the bottom. Repeating the monotonous act, his eyes stared blankly ahead. It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly. The Einzberns, an enemy master, Berserker, Shirou and Illya.

At least they had all made it out alive. Shirou had repelled Berserker, Saber had defeated Lectra's creation and Rider had kept to her word and left without further issue.

The morning had come far faster than usual. Even so, neither of his children had yet to wake up and he was starting to grow worried. He wasn't a magus, so dispelling whatever affected Illya was out of the question.

With a deep sigh, he continued fiddling with the pen and set one end of it into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he imitated the act of smoking in a desperate attempt at relieving some stress.

He knew exactly why things had gone wrong. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was entirely his fault. Shirou had relied on his plans, but he had no information - at least not as he did during his own war. Ten years ago, he had understood each master and their intimate motivations enough to write their biographies. In this war, his knowledge was almost nonexistent.

He couldn't form proper tactical strikes or even develop a plan on the fly without understanding his enemy and he had made the unfortunate decision to try exactly that while dragging Shirou into it as well.

The only information he had was specifically to aid his own goals, protecting Illya. The castle had been fortified and trapped, specific developments had been set in place to hide their signature and make their presence invisible to even servants.

And that lack of input had all been for a reason. Caster and his dreams had both told him that he had no role in ending the Grail War. Shirou was expected to handle it alone and he was supposed to remain on the sidelines as a spectator. At least, that was what he had been shown.

The man didn't even know if he was supposed to be guarding Illya as he was but it seemed to be the only thing he could do without interfering with the War as a whole. It had to be that way, unfortunately. His dreams, back when he still had them, had always detailed actions and parts about himself within the Fourth War. Toward the end, he had witnessed glimpses of the Fifth and each vision showed only Shirou.

Sighing as his mind worked harder, the man removed the pen from his mouth and returned to tapping it on the table while using his other hand to grip his forehead. Illya had been placed into a magically-induced coma and Shirou had quickly followed her by pushing himself beyond anything that could have been considered human.

Shirou had lost an arm, but somehow using his reality marble he had managed to re-attach it and fend off that knight servant in black, Berserker if Saber was to be believed. How a Berserker could be capable of rational thought and speech only added to the perplexity of the situation. While their minor victory had been welcomed, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel as if it had cost his son something.

Both his son and daughter were out like a light, though they were healthy enough and would recover with time, it was a question of how long and what side effects they would awaken with.

He hated feeling useless, but what else was he supposed to do besides sit and wait for them to wake up? Carelessly, the man threw the pen in his hand across the table and watched as it slid across the surface.

As it rolled over the edge, the door to the room opened and a familiar face respectfully walked in. Pausing to stare at the dropped utensil, she looked back up to claim "both of your children have been tended to." The women then entered and bent to pick up the dropped pen. She stared at him in silence for some time before drawing a shaky breath. "Are we to remain here or shall I go get the car?"

The Magus Killer thought over his options for a considerable amount of time. Leaving put Illya at possibly greater risk and threatened to result in her conversion into the Grail. Staying kept her in danger, and the chance of Berserker or Rider's return was absolute.

Moving beyond threats, everyone beyond Saber was in a ragged state with their own injuries. Pausing from his thoughts for a moment, the man pulled back the sleeve on his left hand to examine a watch. Dawn was an hour away at best. Masters weren't supposed to fight in the day, but in a location as isolated as the Einzbern castle that rule could be skewed.

"Everyone needs to get some rest. We can move to a new location tomorrow."

Missy nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Do we have another safe house?"

The man shook his head. "An Einzbern invasion was the last thing I had considered. Without Illya, I had expected Acht to wipe the entire family from existence but obviously he had planned one last-ditch effort."

There was no way Missy could understand what he was saying, but she nodded respectfully anyway. "Even masters aren't perfect," was all she claimed. "If those are your orders I'll get some rest. I assume you'll take watch over Mrs. Einzbern's quarters?"

The man nodded slowly, far too tired to put any effort into a response. Without a word more than "goodnight," Missy left him alone. He had been awake far longer than twenty-four hours, but in order to be vigilant one had to give up the pleasantry of sleep.

Making a noise of exertion, Kiritsugu stood from his chair and walked toward the room's exit. Without even having to think, he walked down the hallway to enter the room Shirou was resting in. Closing the door softly behind himself, the man made note of all the furniture and mentally decided on a sleeping area.

Pausing in the darkness, the man stepped up to Shirou's bedside and examined his comatose son. It wasn't uncommon to see him with injuries of various sorts, though the results of his reality marble were much rarer to witness. Shirou had pushed his body to the extreme twice in one night, and now it was finally catching up to him in more than one way. Underneath the bandages where the strange lattice-like skin had occupied, something equivalent to ground beef remained. The first time, it had healed relatively quickly considering the intensity of the damage.

Easily chalked up to Avalon, the speedy recovery had been a welcome blessing that was well-timed with Luvia and Lectra's arrival. This second time was different. The healing rate was significantly slower and it seemed to be actively struggling to incorporate the reattached arm. The visible line where the two portions joined appeared sickly and necrotic as if being constantly rejected. Even the smaller patches were healing far slower, and little to no progress had been made on his hand and forehead.

Peering over his face, the man noticed something odd. It might have been Kiritsugu's imagination or sheer exhaustion running his mind wild, but his son looked _colder_. It was difficult to describe, but something about Shirou's resting expression reminded the man of his own.

A soft click behind him spun the man around and had him reaching into his trench coat for a weapon. Just as he was about to draw, gleaming golden hair and emerald eyes held him short.

"Kiritsugu," she greeted with a tinge of surprise. "Has Shirou awoken?" Responding with a simple shake of the head, the servant released a soft breath. "His actions tonight were commendable and brave, though they were only so because of his success."

Kiritsugu stuffed both hands into his coat and shot the servant a bitter look. They hadn't gotten along ten years ago, there wasn't any reason to change. "The only reason Lancer is alive is because my son was able to repel a servant alone."

Saber's face stiffened and even in the dim light, he could see the beginning of agitation her features. "I am not dismissing the fact, but a master fighting a servant is foolish regardless of the circumstance."

The Magus Killer clenched his jaw tight. Nothing could satisfy the King of Knights, could it? If only Saber knew what he had, she would understand that Shirou wasn't anything like an ordinary master. "There's no need for both of us to watch over him."

"I agree completely," the servant nodded. "I will stay with Shirou and you can secure the halls."

Blinking in confusion, the man struggled to parse what he just heard. Not only was he planning on getting some sleep, but he had also intended to keep an eye on Shirou personally. Opening his mouth to complain, a murmuring voice from behind distracted him.

Turning, he watched Shirou shift and mutter incoherent ramblings in his sleep. It was difficult to follow, but the tone and fragments he caught were anything but pleasant. The man scowled but didn't do much more than that from experience. "It's expected that with all this stress, Shirou's nightmares have come back."

Saber seemingly forgot their recent spat and strode to the other side of the bed to examine her master in closer detail. "I was unaware that my master experienced such distress during the night. Has it always been a problem?"

Kiritsugu nodded, realized Saber wasn't looking at him and explained vocally instead. "For as long as I've known. When he was younger and they got particularly bad, either Illya, Taiga or myself would have to wake him up and calm him down. Unfortunately, in his current condition, that's not an option."

"I see," Saber murmured. For a moment, Kiritsugu thought he caught a flash of compassion in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with her normal passive glare. "If that is the case, perhaps your proximity will have a soothing effect. I will take your former role in maintaining the perimeter." Casually, the servant walked out of the room and left him alone and confused.

Something about her sudden appearance had been deliberate. She hadn't just conveniently walked in, the timing had to have been premeditated. Strangely enough, Shirou had quieted down and his nightmares had seemingly disappeared along with her. Moving his gaze from his son to the door Saber had gone through, questions itched at the back of his mind.

None were as important as one: Was Saber trying to separate him from Shirou?

… … …

Opening the door to the central courtyard, the knight took in the mess she had left behind. Her battle with that unkillable giant had been destructive to say the least. Still smoking craters lined the ground and chunks of the building had been cleaved out to scatter stone across the courtyard. In the direction of the entrance, a large gaping hole splattered with coagulated black goo. Despite finally killing that monstrosity with a minor blast of Excalibur, its body still lingered and stained the entire area.

At least portions of the very center remained undisturbed. While the grass and plant life was wild and untamed, the fresh outdoor air was nice. Thankfully, the blast from Excalibur had levelled much of the foliage in the center, creating a soft bed to lay upon; something Lancer had taken to doing already.

Hearing the noise of her armour, the knight opened his eyes, spotted her and moved to take a very shaky knee. In battered armour and a face laden in wounds, he was a miserable sight indeed.

At the same time, the cause of the wounds was something to be admired. "My liege, I apologize for my failure in combat. I ho-"

"Why are you apologizing?" Saber's sudden interruption caught the knight off guard and inspired a flinch from him. He struggled to produce a response, seemingly caught in absolute confusion. "The foe you battled was beyond expectation and was to be truly respected. Lasting so long against such an experienced warrior is a feat in and of itself."

Lancer could only gape at her response. Slowly, he closed his mouth and donned a very sad smile. It was hard to tell, but all she could read from him was disappointment. "T-thank you my liege. Your words are very kind."

It was her turn to be stupefied. Why, despite her attempts at reinforcing her knight's pride, did he appear so sad and disheartened? "Is something the matter?"

Lancer struggled to move from a kneel to a comfortable spot lying down. Despite his supreme skill even above herself, he had failed to land so much as a single meagre strike against Berserker. It was unfortunate, she was not so proud as to ignore the fact that he was stronger than them both individually and, as it had been so blatantly laid out to her by her master, combined as well.

"Nothing beyond my physical injuries," the servant laughed, half-heartedly. It was a mistake, as his laughter turned into a hiss of pain. "It seems my master cannot supply me with very much mana while unconscious. While unfortunate, I suppose I cannot ask for too much considering she is otherwise perfect."

Saber was silent as she approached and tried to locate a decent sitting place within the courtyard. Of the two opponents possible, she had battled one much easier but just as frustrating. An enemy that would not die whether cut or blown to pieces was annoying but to have the strength and speed to match a servant was downright infuriating.

Settling into place cross-legged on the grass, as she had done so recently in her mind in the last War, she considered her knight's comment. "It is very fortunate," was all she could say while not entirely meaning it. Shirou provided her with a bearable amount of mana and was easy to work with, but something concerned her.

Sitting as she once had, she couldn't help but reflect on the memories ingrained into her mind. None were as important as the ones Caster had given her. Feeling her eyes squint in concentration, every sentence she had ever exchanged with the man ran through her mind. Along with his words, his face appeared as well. Impossible as it was, Caster shared an identical visage to her current master.

It was as if they were the same person, but such a thought was preposterous. A man from the future being summoned to fight in the past? Not to mention that would make Shirou a hero worthy of the Throne, or something like her. The similarities were there, but she simply couldn't believe it. Were Shirou to follow Kiritsugu's ideals, his plans, the only ending he would receive would be a painful one, both mentally and physically. And what had that servant meant? She had misunderstood his meaning then, but now?

" _... I knew her quite well in my life."_

" _I wish to save everyone."_

" _Maybe my human stubbornness drove me to accept the contract."_

Was Caster really…? Could Shirou really be-

"You have that look in your eye, my liege."

Lancer's voice pulled her free from her thoughts. Looking at her own hands, she examined the inside of her gauntlets as if they held something. What was this feeling she was experiencing, was it unease or perhaps nervousness? Why did it feel so difficult to speak with an old friend? "I was unaware."

"The same look you get every time a difficult decision needs to be made. Sir Bedivere used to call it _The King's Thoughtful Trance_ , as only something of equal importance could ever snap you out of it." Saber subconsciously felt her eye twitch at the mention of her most devoted knight. Lancer, with his head laid sideways on the grass, only grinned. "I wanted to see how important whatever you had on your mind was but I see it couldn't have been that bad…"

Saber blinked and paused to answer for the briefest moment. "I was reflecting on an important conversation long ago," she lied, hoping it would be enough to sate him.

Thankfully, it was. The servant turned his head to stare up and admire the dawning clouds in all their splendour. "It's a little bit late to deliberate upon the words of that damned Incubus, is it not?"

Hearing the agitation in his voice, Saber actually found herself smiling. "You always despised the man."

Lancer closed his eyes softly. "What can I say? I was told by my mother never to trust demons."

A heavy silence descended on the two as if both had collectively forgotten how a conversation was conducted at the same time. "Lancer, what do you think of Shirou's father, Kiritsugu?"

Through closed eyes, the servant scowled. "When I was alive, I shared similarities with him. He is, and I was, a man on the edge with only one thing left to lose. On that same line, neither one of us really understands what we would do were we to lose it, but we understand that it would be something far from pleasant."

Taking a long breath, he continued. "His intentions are pure, but his methods are vile and repulsive, though he appears to be taking an apathetic approach to the entire Grail War. He had no plans beyond doing what it takes to protect my master, something I can appreciate in a way."

A comment burned to release itself and seamlessly the girl let it slip free. "I had no idea you were interested in the man." Was this conversation? She had no time for such things in Briton, perhaps if she had...

Lancer laughed and gripped at the resulting stab of pain soon after. "Something else unique to my master is that she lacks an _off_ switch. Every thought and every word she utters comes straight to me."

Saber's smile widened a touch more. "The good never comes without bad, as they say."

"You said it." The agreement brought on another tense silence. To occupy herself, she surveyed the damage made to the courtyard's walls. Something had to be said about the castle's architect. It could, and had survived a significant beating and stood the test of time. "My liege, is your master going to be alright?"

The comment struck her like a brick, forcing her to straighten and gawk at him with shock. Realizing her reaction, she took a moment to chastise herself before answering to the best of her ability. "My master has access to a reality marble," she began. Making note of Lancer's visible awe, she continued. "He has utilized it carelessly to defeat foes beyond his ability."

Lancer made a strange noise. "A reality marble in this day is quite rare, but I fail to see how this is an answer to my question."

Saber found Lancer's lack of knowledge odd. "A reality marble is a type of magecraft which creates an overlapping world upon the original, changing the laws and the environment to match the user's inner world. This only occurs when the reality marble is fully actualized. When incomplete, the reality marble is only able to inhabit and alter the user itself."

"So each time he uses it, he becomes whatever is in his mind?"

Saber tilted her head to one side and back again. "In a way, however typical usage of improper reality marbles should never be so profound as his is. Something is magnifying the effect to dangerous levels and it threatens to consume his entire body."

Lancer turned his head to look at her with respect. "I had no idea you were so well versed in magecraft."

With a chuckle, Saber explained. "I was trained daily by the best magus of our time. Had I dedicated some time to studying, I could have been a wizard. While I do know _of_ magecraft, I lack the experience to properly use it."

"It only comes to me now that we never had any time to talk while we were alive. Perhaps we can make up for that now?"

... ... ...

... ... ...

Rin groaned in pain, shuffled on the couch in discomfort and struggled to find any place that was comfortable to rest on. After a few seconds, she realized it simply wasn't possible and tried to find the least painful position instead. Bazett's kick, the explosion and all the resulting debris had piled on and covered her body with bruises.

There was a soft noise of moving air that brought on the scent of hot steel and dust. "You do know you're still transmitting your voice through our link, right?"

She hadn't, but it wasn't all that bad. After all Archer had put her through, listening to her complain was the least punishment she could offer. "It's all your fault anyway." He scoffed, crossed his arms and looked at her for an explanation. "If you were strong enough to beat Caster, Bazett wouldn't have been able to do anything and I wouldn't have all these bruises to deal wit-" Interrupting herself as a pang of pain coursed through her body, the girl grabbed at her stomach.

Archer rolled his eyes and moved to kneel down to her level. "Caster was a formidable foe that was capable of both magic and physical attacks. I should have been able to defeat him, but something was wrong." Rin didn't understand, so she asked for further explanation. "It was as if he understood my fighting style. He was able to exploit it within minutes, something I have never experienced before."

Rin shuffled and lifted herself up into a sitting position on the couch. "Well, that would make sense. Bazett trained Shirou for a couple of years so she knows his style. She probably told Caster what to look out for and how to react to it."

Archer made a frustrated growl in his throat. "I refuse to believe we are the same person, but your explanation does make sense." Standing upright, the man casually strode across the room to prepare tea. "I recommend lying down and staying in for tonight. You have a broken rib and any movement right now has a chance of displacing it and preventing healing."

Rin looked down at herself and probed the area Archer claimed to be injured. Wincing at the contact, she concluded that he was probably right. "I'll rest for tonight, but there's something I have to do while the sun is up."

Struggling, the girl pulled herself onto her feet, doing little to silence the pain she was experiencing. "You said you had plans yesterday, but were foiled by Bazett and Caster. I'd hate to think what might happen today."

"Shut it," the girl snapped back, sucking in a sharp breath and flinching at the soreness it resulted in. "I've made a decision. Whether you like it or not, we need Shirou's help if we're going to take down some of the other servants." Knowing full well that the servant would violently disagree with her decision, she continued. "We can work with him to defeat Caster and Rider and then abandon our alliance and let him deal with Assassin and Berserker."

The servant coughed. "Might I remind you that we don't even know who or what Berserker even is."

"Berserkers are usually some of the most difficult servants to handle. Even low-ranking servants can be formidable opponents due to the boost in their stats from madness enhancement. If Berserker's master summoned even a decent servant, it could be as powerful as a high-class servant like Saber or Lancer." Struggling toward the entrance, the girl took an extraordinary amount of time trying to put on her shoes.

Archer sighed. "It's good to see you still lack any faith in me by excluding me from your _high-class servant_ list. Here I thought that Bazett had knocked some decency into you."

"If you can't handle a simple Caster-class servant when they aren't even within their own domain, I simply cannot consider you on such a level," the girl claimed with extra forced pompousness. "Strive to do better and you might achieve that level of competency some day." With her shoes finally on, the girl turned to face her servant and giggled at his dejected expression. "That's what my Shirou Emiya would do."

Archer stared at her for a while before letting his head and the hands on his hips fall. "And you wonder why I went insane. Being around you is enough to compromise the mental state of any man."

Rin recoiled, then winced in pain at the sharp movement. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean!"

… … …

… … …

Casually, the girl pressed the doorbell in and took a deep breath as she waited for Shirou to answer. How stupid was it to walk into an enemy's stronghold, a known location that held _two_ knight-class servants without Archer by her side?

Rin blinked and realized that Shirou had done _exactly_ that in his approach to her home. She hadn't considered it before, but the threat was difficult to miss. He had done his best to put her at ease while placing himself in an extremely dangerous position.

What an idiot.

Shifting her weight while waiting, the girl rang the doorbell annoyingly several times. It was sometime in the early evening, had he decided to go to his part-time job in the middle of the Grail War? Sighing, Rin tugged at the door only to find it locked.

As long as she had ever known Shirou, the door had been wide open at all times. It wasn't because he was forgetful or underestimated crime rates, but because someone was _always_ home. Kiritsugu, Missy, Illya, Shirou, Taiga or even Sakura was always there.

It was unnatural and it set a pit in the bottom of her stomach. " _He's not home,_ " she informed the servant.

" _I'm not sure words can express how glad I am."_

Rolling her eyes, Rin turned around to walk down the path to the sidewalk. " _There's something else we can do while we're here, but you'll need to materialize._ "

Within a moment there was a soft rush of air and Archer appeared walking at her side. He was wearing an outfit far more casual than his usual combat outfit, a black dress shirt and pants both in silk of all things. It was formal, casual and entirely basic at the same time. "What did you have in mind?"

Briefly acknowledging his appearance, Rin continued walking onto the sidewalk with a path laid out in her mind. "Everyone we've met has consistently confused you for Shirou, so we're going to trick Taiga into letting us into Shirou's house."

"Very clever, master. Though I believe that breaking and entering goes against our ceasefire agreement." Rin scowled. Why did Archer always have to point out minor flaws and exaggerate them all the time? At first it had been amusing to fight back and forth but with how jaded and sarcastic he had been getting, it was getting annoying. Before she could state her annoyance, he continued. "I've been wondering if this Taiga is the same as mine for some time now."

Biting her tongue to hold back a large scale rant, Rin quickly cooled herself by mentally repeating an old adage and taking a few deep breaths as her mother guided her. "Just get her to give us the spare key. Act normally, or as stupid as you possibly can, there's not much difference."

Scoffing, Archer elected to walk in silence during the short walk to Taiga's. Knocking on her door, Rin received a much more immediate response but the person who answered was not who she was expecting.

The door opened outwards only part ways, revealing a man about as tall and lean but not quite as muscular as Archer and Shirou. He had a sharp face and an even sharper glare that cut through her with vicious intention. It was rough, marred with blemishes from both blunt forces and minor cuts. Blatantly leering her from head to toe, the man leaned against the doorframe cooly. "Hey there sweetheart. What's a pretty thing like you doing here?"

Rin blinked, scowled fiercely and prepared to break the man's nose, but was ultimately over-ridden as Archer gripped the door and opened it further to reveal himself. Like he had been bitten by a spider, the man in the door snapped upright in surprise. "Shirou! I didn't know this was your girl!"

"Kitaro," Archer nodded, ignoring his outburst. "Is Taiga here?"

It was strange to see a man who looked so tough appear almost frightened under Archer's gaze. What had Shirou done to these men? "The Tiger? Yeah, she's with the boss. I'll go get her."

It only took a few seconds for Taiga to arrive and for Shirou to start conning his way into her spare key. Half-lying about forgetting his own set and claiming that everyone else was busy with their own things, he managed to convince the teacher into letting them borrow her spare set with strict orders to unlock the door and return the keys before going inside.

Knowing Taiga as she did, Rin made sure to follow the teacher's orders to the letter. Even Archer recommended doing the same, as he knew as well as she did that Taiga's fury was quick and painful.

When they both returned to the Emiya house, the two stepped inside to start their search. They were both careful to remove their shoes before walking further in. Leaving behind mud or dirt was a good way to make Shirou aware of their meddling. "I've been here a lot but I've never had any reason to examine every nook and cranny. Archer, you used to live here, are there any secret hiding places that we should search for first?"

The servant hummed. "A few, though you'll have to give me a moment to familiarize myself again."

Rin watched the man stride forward into the room. "You don't remember your own house?"

Archer carefully examined the entrance hall like it was the first time he had ever been there. With a voice far darker than she expected, he replied in a low tone, "It's been a long time."

Confused by the meaning behind such a comment, she was unable to ask for an explanation as he stepped around the corner out of reasonable earshot. Moving faster to keep up, she watched as he opened the door to each room and peeked inside, spending extra time on certain ones more than others.

He even stepped into one, in particular, spending extra time to shift around in books and within drawers. Rin knew it from experience to be Kiritsugu's room, so it was a good choice to start looking for information. It was too cramped for two people to maneuver inside comfortably, so she asked "find anything?" from the hall instead.

After a moment of shifting paper and shutting drawers, her servant replied in the negative and stepped out. "Trouble is I don't know if what's there is in some sort of code or not, or where any important documents might be stowed."

Rin would have thought that Archer would have a much better understanding of his father, but maybe that was yet another difference between her Shirou and him. "Anywhere else then?"

"I can only think of one," he replied before leading her through the halls and into the backyard toward the stone shed. Casually, he slid open the heavy door and stepped inside, pausing to look at various items strewn across the inside without any obvious order. Being honest, Rin had very seldom ever had the chance to explore the inside of Shirou's shed. The two of them often conducted non-destructive magical experiments inside, but it was usually something simple and they left without wasting time.

Archer paused at several key points as he explored, investigating some tools and weapons intimately by taking hold of and bringing them close to his eyes. He didn't make a noise as to whether what he was appreciating was good or bad. The servant paused even longer to examine a pair of emerald green blades.

Rin knew exactly where they had come from. Two years back, Shirou had been forced to fight two werewolves and an Enforcer from the Clock Tower. Her name had been Elizabeth Velum, and she had been the owner of those silver weapons. "I've never seen these before, odd."

Rin blinked at her servant's reaction but merely logged it down on her list and reminded herself they weren't the same person again. "Have you looked where you wanted to?"

Archer crouched down to peer at the underside of a workbench. "More or less. I never had a reason to hide anything from anyone so I didn't have any secret places."

Rin hummed in mild frustration before spotting something out of place. In the far back she saw a covered oblong shape. It was out of place because the quilt that acted as a cover was ghastly in every sense. Shirou lacked taste, but even he wasn't that bad in terms of decorating; only one man was.

Ignoring Archer as he launched into a boring explanation, Rin didn't even hesitate in ripping the quilt off. Underneath was an admittedly heavy duty safe. Slowly, Rin reached out to touch the dial but as she got close, foreign mana prickled at her fingertips.

Reeling back, the girl looked between her fingers and the safe itself. She hadn't detected any sort of bounded field, but obviously there was one present.

Rin looked back and motioned to her servant. "Archer, come have a look at this."

Humming thoughtfully, the man approached and investigated the safe. "Looks like something Kiritsugu would have set up. There's a complex bounded field around it that surpasses anything I know."

"So you can't break into it?"

Archer shook his head and moved to the front of the safe. "I didn't say that. I don't really know his style but the bounded field I had around my home was based on his design. It looks like there's some sort of biometric detector which might work to our advantage."

Understanding that, the Tohsaka watched Archer carefully touch the dial without any adverse side effects. Pausing for a moment, he looked toward her and asked with genuine uncertainty, "November is the eleventh month, right?" Confirming it for him, she watched as he input three numbers.

Twenty, eleven, eighty-five.

Expecting it to click open, Rin was surprised when it didn't do anything. Determined, Archer tried reversing the numbers but was met with failure again. The third time, he tried twenty, eighty-five, eleven and with a soft click, the mechanism unlocked. The man seemed as surprised as he did, but he carefully rotated the handle to open the door.

The inside was absolutely packed with things Rin could and couldn't identify. Passports, currency, documents, loose papers and books all stacked neatly to maximize the amount of storage. There was so much content inside, Rin didn't know where to start. Based off Archer's blank face, he didn't either. "How did you know the combination?"

Moving back to let her into the safe, he shrugged passively. "I didn't, it was just a lucky guess."

Knowing he was lying but unable to do anything about it, Rin let it slide for now so she could focus on the safe. Counting up stacks of money, Rin marvelled at just how much there was. "There must be over a hundred million yen in here, and what are all of these documents for?"

Taking hold of a loose piece of paper sticking out from a book, Rin turned and skimmed it over. For starters, it was written in English rather than Japanese but thankfully she knew both. It was difficult to follow as it started halfway through a previous line of thought, but she could determine that it was some sort of debriefing for a military operation.

It explained a squad's goal and how they accomplished it. A second, closer skim revealed that the squad was only composed of two people and that the operation was only one of many in a long list. Supposedly, more than three dozen high-value targets were supposed to be eliminated, but she didn't have the following page in order to confirm whether the outcome matched.

"Do you know what any of this means?" she asked, handing her servant the page.

Taking it from her hands, it only took him a second to form a response. "Not a clue. Kiritsugu died five years after adopting me. He was always so distant and silent so we didn't have much time to converse. It was almost as if there was something in life he was regretting." The servant's tone grew cold and clipped the more he had to speak about his father like each thought brought more and more repressed anger. "It seems he's contracted some sort of guerilla detachment to do his dirty work."

"Is that how he made all this money?"

"Unlikely. The bills have been sitting for nearly a decade and this writing was just made a few months ago." Of all the people she could have brought as an investigative aid, Shirou - or someone with his abilities - was probably the best. Tracing revealed more than any human could determine in a matter of seconds.

"So that old man's been loaded every since I knew him," Rin growled. And to think that he had made _her_ pay for Shirou's updated kitchen. "What else can your eyes find out?"

"That there's a lot of information here." To accent the scope, he let out a stream of exasperated breath through his mouth. "If each page in those books are as detailed as this, we could be reading for the next few days."

Rin considered their next move. "Should we take any of it?"

"That depends on if you want to work with Shirou Emiya, or if you want to continue your cease-fire agreement. We've already broken into their home, but stealing sensitive information like this is an outright declaration of war. To make it worse, it wouldn't be Shirou that's after you, but the Magus Killer."

Rin shivered. While she had never watched Kiritsugu in _action_ , she had heard enough from Illya to know it wasn't pretty. "Well then let's read what we can while we're here and set everything back in its place before we go."

"I've already got a mental image of how it was when we arrived, but it would be a good idea to star now and read quickly."

… … …

… … …

"You heartless demon," the girl murmured, glaring with nothing but resentment at her servant while he slowly approached down the central aisle. Caren herself shuffled back along the ground, trying to make distance regardless of how useless such an act was. With each small movement, the gentle clatter of heavy chain echoed through the open room. The partly rusted steel filled the room with a stale metallic scent that never left her nose. Though that was likely due to the chain's proximity to her face.

Instead of trying to go behind her back, Berserker had deemed it easier to just tie her up using heavy chain and padlocks around her neck. Where he had managed to gather either from was a mystery, but did it really matter when she had been shackled to the central altar like a wild dog. "Forcing me to reveal my personality, attacking the only friend I ever had and locking me in a cage within my own home!"

Inhaling a chest-shaking breath, the girl clutched at her heart, hiding her bleeding finger from sight. She had been trying in desperation to get out of her bindings all night but it had been in vain. Berserker had ensured that she wouldn't escape and she had been forced to watch as he battled Shirou and some other people through the night. At the very least she could thank God for allowing Shirou to live.

"It was necessary," the servant replied hollowly. "The enemy was wounded and with their blood fresh on my blade, it was necessary to track them down and finish the job. Had you not been restrained, you would have either halted or accompanied me and put yourself at risk of being kill-"

"If God wills it then so be it!" she cried before he could finish. She couldn't control the tremors of her own lungs. The tears streamed freely and her hyperventilation only grew worse. "If that is his plan for me, then I will follow his guidance willingly."

The servant made a condescending noise and planted his blade into the floor of the Church. "What a foolish master I have. You have no interest in winning the Grail and seemingly wish to commit suicide by involving yourself in a battle between servants."

Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes, Caren tried to stabilize her body. "You're wrong," she murmured.

Quizitively her servant approached. "Elaborate," was all he said.

Keeping her eyes pointed down toward the ground, "I have a wish, I do want to win the Grail War." There was something she desired. As sinful as it was, it rivalled her faith in the Church itself.

Berserker approached even closer and bent at the knee to lower himself to her position. His hair had been discoloured to a dull rusty shade from his recent battles. "If you have a wish, spill it so that I can know what it is I fight for."

Caren used one of her canines to bite sharply into the inside of her lower lip. "My wish is to become Shirou's true sister so that I can have a family; a real one that doesn't think about "

Berserker snorted from behind his mask. "A woman of the cloth that wishes to join another family, that's a first."

Caren felt her face flush and the beating of her heart flooded her ears. "It is not blasphemous to have simple wishes that cause no harm. It is a sin to covet thy neighbour's wife but nothing is said about wishing to be a part of another's family!"

Berserker stood and beamed down at her for a moment. "I refuse to help a master with such a foolish wish. You have no place at my side in this War," he spat. The man turned and strode calmly back toward his embedded blade. "I will claim the omnipotent cup for myself and enact my wish alone."

Caren paled. What was he saying? "That's impossible! You can't-"

"It is entirely within my ability to last within this world for over a month were I to be highly conservative with my current mana supply. Even if I were to liberally use my noble phantasm, a week is entirely within the realm of possibility. Having a master extends that time of course, but thankfully I don't have to worry about you."

Collecting his weapon from the ground, the servant turned on his heels to approach her with ominous intent. Eyes widening in fear, Caren could only mouth a silent prayer as she watched him approach. "As overseer of this War and abiding by your imposed rules, nobody will ever come searching for you and I may do as I please."

He was attacking with a far more effective weapon, cutting deep into her mind and embedding a sense of hopelessness and sheer dread. "How can you call yourself a _heroic_ spirit," she murmured.

Berserker extended his hand to rear the tip of his blade up to her face. The end nearly sliced a line in her nose but a reactionary jerk backwards prevented it. "I don't and I never have. It would serve you well not to make assumptions about those you do not know." Shuffling away from the demonic crimson blade, his words suddenly clicked within her mind.

He was _Berserker_ , a servant afflicted with madness enhancement. When he had first been summoned, she had believed the affliction to be negligible simply because he could form complex thoughts and actually speak like a normal person, but while the blade of insanity had missed one place, it had cut deep in another.

Was there no limit to how evil her servant could be?

… … …

Gritting his teeth and huffing out an exhausted breath, the boy collapsed to one knee and jammed one sword into the hot clay below. Blood coated his weapons, his arms and it had even splattered his face to coat his upper body.

He had killed. There had been so many he had been compelled to murder in the name of protecting what was his. None of them had names, but that only made it worse. To murder someone without knowing such basic information was terrifying. Did they have families? Loved ones who were waiting for their safe, timely arrival for dinner?

What were their goals, their aspirations? Did they have dreams? Why had they made the decision to end up in such a miserable resting place upon a nameless land so worthless as to only be for one single person?

Hands tightening on the grips of his weapons, the boy tried to force the thoughts from his mind. He wasn't innocent, he wasn't pure. He had murdered before and he was bound to do it again. He had convinced himself that it was necessary and the situation had been life or death.

But at the same time, had it been his only option?

The boy struggled to lift himself back up to his feet, glancing miserably toward the inky black figure standing above him on that dreaded hill of blades. Each gleaming piece of steel sat in its usual spot, as did the one before him so motionlessly, waiting for his inevitable place at the top.

There had been a time, a moment in his life years ago where it had seemed beautiful and peaceful, a moment it had been _relaxing_.

He knew better now.

The serial killer, Elizabeth Velum, the werewolf freelancers, Kiera Eliphas and his former friend, Shinji Matou. Blood stained his hands, and some stains were far more permanent than others. Elizabeth, the enforcer who had endangered his family and Kiera the aspiring magus who has simply learned too much couldn't hold a flame to Shinji's murder. It was murder, undoubtedly. Shirou had let himself slip and the consequence for even a minor lapse had been scarring.

Since that battle within his mind, his dreams had shifted, but he never had the time to fully realize the effects. Like some haunting ghost of a long-dead relative, her voice, her _entire being_ berated him for his deeds.

She was a conscious he had never asked for, the outsider peering in to his approaching end. "How many do you plan on murdering in the name of protection?"

"As many as it takes," he growled back his usual response.

"Would you kill your own father to protect your sister?"

Grinding his teeth, he forced the dread of such a decision away and forced his body to stand. "Without a second thought."

"And if your sister commits suicide to escape the monster you've become?"

It was a new question, something he had never considered before. His mind emptied, his chest grew tight and his entire body shivered uncontrollably. He trailed off after repeating the first part of Kiera's haunting question, unable to fully wrap his mind around the scenario let alone create an answer.

His legs buckled beneath the stress of supporting his wracked form. The swords in his hands were too heavy to hold and it was a struggle just to inhale a wheezing breath. "You have killed, you've given yourself up to such a cause but you never once considered what such an action might do to the ones you've fought so hard to protect."

She was right.

"The suffering you experience is only reflected on the ones who love you most," the taunting continued, an unshaking rumbling within his ears that blurred his vision.

She was right.

"Each part of yourself you throw away is more happiness you have taken from others. You got away with my murder in cold blood, you imprisoned me within the twisted remnants of what you call your humanity and force me to watch as you neglect to think about yourself and descend into the unending abyss."

Shirou shut his eyes tight, unable to control the shaking in his hands. Why did she have to be right? Something cold pierced his abdomen and something hot coated the area around it.

There wasn't even pain anymore. The weight of his actions and failures was enough to make death seem like a welcome embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured, opening his eyes to the blackened figure looming just ahead.

There had been a time; where that figure was something he was destined to defeat, something he strove toward conquering without looking back.

His realization was too late.

It was only his ideals that drove him to victory in this world.

It was the part of himself that had wished for good.

The part of him that knew the outcome was staring down at him from the top of that cursed hill.

The glint of steel flashed before his eyes and they automatically closed to accept yet another end.

And reopened to an unfamiliar room filled with soft sunlight.

To say every inch of his body ached was an understatement. It felt as if he was being roasted alive in an iron maiden being repeatedly opened and closed. His mouth snapped open to cry in pain, but the sound caught in his dry throat and failed to make any noise at all.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to writhe and it even hurt to _think_. Merely trying to comprehend the room around him sent violent shooting pains from the top of his spine through his body.

His lungs heaved, his body panicked but there was nothing he could do beyond ride the agony and try to comprehend what was going on around him.

There were hands, one set that was rough and familiar. Following them, the boy found a twisted blackened shape that screamed incoherent noises in his ear. No more cognizant than a newborn, Shirou barely understood that he was being moved, that the sights ahead of his eyes were changing and solidifying.

There was floor, and it came all too quickly as it encompassed his entire view. Something, someone or maybe even himself pulled his face from the ground. Almost on command, something stinging above his full-body torment came flooding from within his stomach through his mouth.

Liberally coating the floor, Shirou was only aware of the various colours but even that seemed to be working his brain too much. Gold, red and shades of brown all mingled within one another in a swirling cacophony that hurt his head to witness.

The world shifted again and something cool was being applied to his face. The only reason he could tell, was because whatever it was had managed to combat the pain, however slight.

Trying to breathe was met with fierce resistance and he couldn't help but forcibly cough to try and clear the airway. Once more the world shifted and the cycle repeated, but this time more of his environment had made sense. Someone was holding him by the hair, keeping his face off the ground so he could vomit.

After vomiting, whoever was holding him was attempting to feed him water, but was using it more as a washing fluid than a beverage.

The third time, his vision cleared enough to understand, though each thought and comprehension still brought pain. With shaking hands and through heaving breaths, Shirou struggled to sit up and drink the water being provided, relieved that it could quench his dry mouth and throat.

It helped to remove the sensation that he had swallowed nothing but razor blades during his time unconscious and it was alleviating a minor amount of pain. The formerly incoherent ramblings gradually turned into words.

With one hand on his shoulder and a slight shaking of the hand, Kiritsugu was calling his name and expecting a response. Struggling to keep oxygen in his lungs and his body from collapsing from the torturous agony, Shirou weakly nodded to at least let him know he was sane, somewhat.

There was so much to consider and he wasn't in any shape to analyze any of it. There had been a dream, but he had already forgotten every detail beyond it being a nightmare. What had happened after his loss of consciousness?

Most important of all, something felt absolutely, unquestionably _wrong_ but he couldn't determine _why_ or _what_. His father pulled him back with a question. "How are you feeling?"

Shirou drearily closed his eyes and struggled to keep the room from spinning. "Not waking up at all would have been better I think."

"Welcome to old age," Kiritsugu joked without any humour. "I meant it more in a physical sense. Your arm seems to be working, which is good news."

Opening his eyes wide in recognition, Shirou looked at his formerly removed appendage and examined it in detail. Covered in clean white bandages meant he couldn't discover much. Its functionality was the same, but it felt entirely different in a way he couldn't quite describe.

It was numb and hot, but he could still touch and feel with it. Trying to determine why was difficult. His memories of last night were hazy and blurred after a very specific point. His last clear memory was when he and his father were trying to ambush Luvia. After that, everything got muddy.

He knew there had been Rider, Lancer and Berserker but what each of them did or said wasn't clear. Even the fact that he lost his arm was clouded in a thick mental haze that made it feel as if it came from a dream.

But he usually forgot about everything about his dreams so the fact that he remembered _something_ meant it had been real. A memory clicked and with a snap of the head the boy looked toward his father. "Is Illya alright? Has she woken up yet?"

"Yes and no, respectively. Whatever spell those homunculi put her under is stronger than I expected. It might be permanent for all I know." Bitterly, the old man looked off through the window at the bright sun. Had the times been different, it would have been a beautiful day.

Shirou attempted to move from an uncomfortable sitting position into a stand but he realized halfway through that the world was still spinning and supporting his own weight like that hurt too much. "How are we going to wake her up?"

"I have no idea," the man replied bluntly. "Only a magus could dispel something like this and we don't have any on call."

Shirou's mind worked like a rubber ball. He immediately thought of Rin, subsequently crushed the idea with the Grail War in mind, then realized that since they were in a ceasefire she _would_ help him. "Do you think Rin could fix something like it?"

The old man shrugged and stood upright, leaving behind the half-empty bottle of water which Shirou greedily inhaled. "It's possible. I doubt she would be comfortable with helping two enemy masters in a war she's trained her whole life for."

Finishing the bottle of water, Kiritsugu rolled another across the floor in his direction. "She and I made a ceasefire on the first night. I was going to make an alliance but her servant had different ideas."

The old man scowled deeply. "You think working with other masters is really the best option? I thought we already had this conversation."

"I'm not trying to be a hero," he defended. "I just don't want any of my friends to die. If there's a way to keep them all safe I'll do it, even if it ends up being harder."

The old man sighed, knowing full well he would be unable to convince Shirou otherwise. "You're an adult, you can make your own decisions but know that there will be consequences for whatever path you choose."

Drinking another bottle of water, the two merely watched one another wordlessly. There was nothing more either of them could say with such an awkward division of opinions. Eventually, Missy entered and Kiritsugu explained how they would be relocating temporarily back to the Emiya household until Missy could ensure another location they had in mind was fit for living.

Missy had been transferring supplies to the car they originally arrived in so as soon as Shirou could move, he was moved to the back seat with his unconscious sister beside him.

Lancer had joined them in the car, and Kiritsugu had accompanied Saber to collect and drive the parked bikes home. While he wasn't licensed in motorbikes and his experience compared to the two Knights was minimal, the old man knew enough to get it home without killing himself.

The drive in the car was eerily silent. Everyone was either exhausted from past events or too unfamiliar with one another to talk in any open capacity. While dozing off against the side of the car door, it finally struck Shirou how different Missy was compared to how she acted when they'd first met.

She was always a softly spoken, graceful-looking woman, but she had always stimulated conversation at the table or when the room fell into an awkward silence. She always smiled as well, likely thankful for the simple fact of her life being saved.

None of that was the case anymore. She still held the appearance of a simple graceful woman, but there was no smile or joy on her face. Exhaustion and monotonous neutrality had taken its place. She no longer spoke aloud at the table without first being spoken to either. It was like her personality had been replaced with an unflinching machine.

Shirou didn't know what to feel about the discovery. He had told himself time and time again that Kiritsugu would never force someone to enter his line of work, that Missy could have left at any time if she so desired, and she would have been looked after regardless.

Now, he wasn't sure. Something was telling him that she stayed at Kiritsugu's side for a reason but disliked her position all the same.

With heavy eyes, the boy felt himself drift off to concerning thoughts about what could have been valuable enough to keep Missy around as Kiritsugu's assistant.

When his eyes reopened, he was being prodded by Lancer, who offered a mere saddened grin before exiting the car himself. Before Shirou could open his door, the one across from him opened to reveal Kiritsugu, who gently took Illya into his arms, carrying her as if she were the most delicate of glasswork.

Receiving no such treatment, Shirou worked to squeeze himself from the car, feeling like a senior with severe arthritis.

It became rapidly apparent that he shouldn't have slept in the car. His entire left arm felt like it was asleep and the barest involuntary movement sent stabbing pains through his body. Holding the elbow carefully with his other hand, the boy walked toward the house while Missy unloaded the car.

He would have loved to help, but in his condition, he almost needed help himself just to stand and walk.

Scoffing miserably at his perceived uselessness, he couldn't help but feel bad. It was unequivocally the most injured he had been and even Avalon was struggling.

Sliding the front door closed as he entered, Saber approached from the end of the hall with pure concern on her features. Sometime after her battle in the Einzbern castle, she had put on her suit. He couldn't help but feel conflicted to see a woman in men's clothing ask "how are you feeling" in such a soft tone.

"I'll be alright, I just need some time to recover," he lied.

The servant scowled and cautiously prodded his reattached arm to produce a sharp hiss from him. "You are a terrible liar. You know as well as I do that something is wrong."

Shamed by her words, he knew she was right. It wasn't just his arm and body that had been injured, something else _was_ blatantly wrong.

It had been subtle when he woke up, but something was off with his own inner consciousness and thoughts and it only got worse the deeper he looked. There was one memory of his fight with Berserker that he _could_ remember. A moment where he had thought that harming Illya was just an acceptable casualty. It was disgusting, it went against everything he knew and was trying to do.

Even now, thinking about his friends and family being harmed, it didn't seem so bad. He even felt more empty, like a part of him had simply failed to awaken with the rest of his body.

It had all been because of his reality marble, hadn't it? Was this all because he had gone too far? The memories were hazy, but he could recall a point where things became clearer than the rest. It had been after giving himself a head wound.

Could it be that his reality marble had started to affect his _brain?_ If it had, wouldn't the damage have shredded his memories or other functions? What did the front part of his brain even control?

Recalling parts of his past as a test, the boy found everything to be in order. Giving his head a shake, he brought on a sharp headache and felt both regretful and thankful. The pain was unwanted but at the same time, it made him focus on something besides his disturbing thoughts.

"Shirou," Saber interrupted, gently placing one hand on his good shoulder. "You have been uncharacteristically distant. If it were someone else, I would understand the change due to pain, but you have never exhibited differences in the past even while heavily injured."

"I'm just a little tired is all," he continued, actually telling the truth with that one. "I'll be fine after I get some sleep, promise."

It was obvious that she didn't believe him, but there was little she could do if he was going to continue being difficult. Sighing in frustration, she removed her hand and walked past him. "If you require me, I will be monitoring the perimeter."

Before she could leave, Shirou whirled around on the spot and called out her name to stop her. "We need to do one thing, but I'll need both your and Lancer's help again."

… … …

With Saber carrying Illya and Shirou relying on a disguised Lancer for support in walking, the band of sorry states was back to a rather familiar place.

Shirou even got deja vu, though there was admittedly more pain this time. Missy, Lancer's disguise, forced open the front gate with one hand while still supporting Shirou. Like a disorderly train, the four followed one another onto the main pathway leading up to the Tohsaka manor.

It was nice to see that the path had been repaired since his last arrival. Rin was keeping up appearances, meaning she was still living there.

Unlike the first time, he did not wait for her to come out from the door but continued walking toward the manor with purpose.

"Do you really believe this to be a good idea?" Saber questioned from his side. "How can we be sure this woman won't betray us?"

Shirou made note of the descending sun. If they wanted to get off the streets before nightfall they would have to act fast. "I know Rin, she's a woman of her word. So long as she says we're in a cease-fire, she'll do what she can to preserve it."

Reaching the door, Lancer took care of knocking and within a few seconds it was flung open to reveal a familiar face. Shock was written on her features and her skin was pale as if she had seen a ghost. "Shirou?"

He had no pride to swallow, so his response came easy. "I need your help."

* * *

 **I'm almost done the next chapter (10k words) so it shouldn't be long before that comes out (should my beta not be busy as well). I hope to have some more content and I've also slapped on a new chapter for my side story Fate:EoE. If you haven't heard of it and want a little more of my writing style, you can go check that out too :)**

 **As always, remember to favourite follow and review! We're getting close to the big 1000 milestone and I don't know what to do that might be a special occasion but I'll try to figure something out. Maybe I'll get a custom cover page drawn up by someone? If y'all have any suggestions (Maybe even another Omake?) then write a review and suggest it!**


	28. Overseas Interference

**So, at the time of posting the last chapter, this chapter was finished. I struggled for far too long with the chapter proceeding this one, but that one I finished _two weeks ago_. I haven't heard from Talndir and I'm getting a little anxious myself with being so long after the last update so I can't imagine what you guys are like. So, after a bunch of self-deliberation, I've decide to push this chapter through without proofing through Talndir. Also trying to deal with author-envy and the like. Reviews still down in number though some of you are kind enough to leave them (you know who you are and I appreciate all of you greatly, know that your reviews always inspire me to write more and bring smiles to my face everytime I see the notification on my phone, big or small.)**

 **Being so far ahead, I've actually been writing a little bit on EoE and a little bit on a new project I got some inspiration for that's entirely out of my specialization. It'll be SoL and romance based between two characters (who are well known) that haven't been paired before, yet share many similarities.**

 **Before I can finalize that though, I have to do some extensive research on one of the characters in question so it might be some time (Few weeks to month+) before it will premier. Make your guesses on the characters in the reviews if you like and give Talndir some love in the hopes that his schedule opens up so he can edit the next chapter.**

* * *

 _"You're giving up the chance of a lifetime, Rin."_ The cool, monotonous voice in her head had been damning her to the pits of hell all night. How long was he going to keep pestering her when he knew she wouldn't change her mind?

"Shut up or I'll use a command seal on you, idiot." Blinking in minor frustration before letting out a sigh, the magus looked over her patient with some concern.

 _"He appears injured, killing him now would be trivial."_

Rin bit her tongue. "I'm not going to kill him, my decision is final."

" _You can at least admit I was right about his servant. Saber, King Arthur herself."_

Rolling her eyes, the girl made an annoyed huff. "Alright, fine, you got _one_ thing right. That doesn't mean you have to rub it in my face."

She could have sworn he heard him laughing but before she could berate him, the man spoke. " _It's interesting that Illya's servant didn't decide to come along as well. It's unusual for a Shirou Emiya to lie and keep any of his cards hidden. I'm used to watching him lay his cards openly on the table for any and all to view."_

Taking a deep breath, Rin reminded herself of what a strange servant Archer truly was: A counter-guardian that had experienced an infinite number of timelines. He knew "Shirou Emiya" more than the boy knew himself but at the same time, Archer knew nothing of the Shirou Emiya she was familiar with. "We can only work with what we have."

When the servant neglected to respond, she assumed he had grown tired of speaking with her. With silence in her mind, she carefully went to work preparing her own mental state for the procedure she was about to attempt.

Rin even went so far as to cut off her mental connection with Archer. She needed absolute concentration for the operation otherwise she risked injuring Illya and then they would have no choice but to kill Shirou when he inevitably lashed out at her. She wasn't clueless. She knew her place in Shirou's mind and while it wasn't first it was somewhere close.

So for her own health, she had to make sure her meddling didn't break anything. Approaching her patient from the head of the table, Rin softly closed her eyes and placed both hands on either side of Illya's head.

Her father's books had taught her a great deal, including spells to render magi unconscious and warnings on how difficult it was to dispel them forcibly. The best option without any possibility of harm was to let them awaken naturally, though sometimes that was months or years in the future; unless the caster removed the affliction themselves.

From what she knew, spells that rendered magi unconscious manipulated a simple biological feedback loop on the same system as a pain-induced shock. Mana told the brain the body was in too much pain and each time the brain checked to see if it could awaken, the mana continued to tell it no.

But a spell of that type was absolutely useless when the subject had better circuits than the caster. It was a well-known fact that magi rejected foreign mana signatures within their own body and such a property extended through all fields of magecraft. It was why magi couldn't hypnotize other magi among other things.

Illya had the best circuits and greatest mana capacity that Rin had ever known. It vastly exceeded the reserves of every mage in Fuyuki combined, so what sort of person had been able to break through a defence as great as that?

Taking a calming breath, the Tohsaka recalled the words scrawled in her father's old tomes and searched the darkness of her eyelids for the thread that would lead her to Illya.

… … …

… … …

It was deathly silent in the house. Sitting on a luxurious looking chair that was much stiffer than appearances would inform, he actually wondered if he could hear mice in the walls or if something was clawing its way out from inside his skull.

Saber cleared her throat softly, directing the attention of the two men in the room. "It appears Rin's servant does not wish to show themselves."

"Quite rude, is it not?" Lancer added, pacing around the room slowly.

Exhausted, Shirou could barely keep his eyes open, but sleep refused to let him drift off. "She might be purposefully keeping them away. They didn't seem to like me very much."

Saber made a small hum. "It's fortunate the girl does, otherwise-" she paused as if a taser had just been jammed against her spine. "Shirou, how did Rin's servant attack you?"

The question was odd, odd enough to make the boy open his eyes and focus on his servant for a moment. He had never thought to tell her the details of the encounter beyond that it had happened. He had expected Lancer to handle that. "With a projectile of some sort. I'm pretty sure it was a sword."

Saber bolted upright. "We must leave immediately."

Confused by her panic, the boy tried to sit forward but a sharp pain forced him back into the chair. "What are you talking about, Saber? I told you Rin was-"

"Rin _Tohsaka_ , correct. In the last war, another Tohsaka acted as a master as well." To Shirou it was obvious but it seemed to be some great revelation to the servant. "This man commanded one of the most fearsome servants, Archer, a man capable of killing everyone involved in the Holy Grail War without taking so much as a single step or lifting a finger." The gravity in her voice was concerning but Shirou was still lost. "What does that have anything to do with right now?"

"We are in grave danger. It is likely the catalyst was passed down, and the only servant remaining is-"

"Archer," Lancer finished, face growing grim. "We know Assassin to throw small weapons, not swords and especially not ones as destructive as that had been." The servant's head snapped to look at the door he had carried his master through just moments prior.

With no small effort, Shirou found the strength to sit up and devote his attention to the conversation. "You think Rin summoned a servant that powerful but didn't kill Lancer and me when he had the chance _and_ let us enter her home without showing himself?"

Lancer shifted subtlety, appearing ready to take on any perceived threat at the drop of a hat. It was very perplexing to see a woman as slim as Missy take on a pose only fit for a trained swordsman. "It is a tactical decision, luring prey until they are most docile and unexpecting before striking at full force."

"Rin wouldn't do that!" Shirou claimed, raising his voice as the annoyance and pain started to give way to anger. Calming quickly, he settled back into the chair once more. "I told you, she's not that kind of person. I trust her, so leave it at that."

"Shirou-"

"I said leave it. She's a good person and I…" he trailed off. He had wanted to say something, but as he thought about his words, his thoughts fell apart. Trying to think of the word he wanted to say only brought back an _empty_ sensation as if it didn't exist. Even trying to determine which emotion he wanted to convey only returned with nothing.

"I understand," Lancer claimed, and Shirou was thankful that someone had at the very least. The servant straightened and returned to his formerly relaxed stance. "My liege, I believe we should put some faith in our master."

Before anyone could respond, the door Rin had been working behind opened and with a soft noise, she broke into a half-hearted smirk. "I've done what I can, now we just have to wait until she wakes up normally."

All at once, weight was removed from his shoulders and his next breath was far less painful than the last. Without thinking, he stood and cleared the distance between to wrap Rin up in a tight hug.

The girl flinched in his arms and the sudden contact elicited a noise of surprise. Hesitantly, she reciprocated and after realizing Saber and Lancer were watching, she hid her face in his chest and murmured "idiot. You're welcome but stop embarrassing me."

Recognizing his actions after the fact, he awkwardly released her and took a shaking step back as the pain in his body gradually returned. "Sorry, I was just-"

The girl caught his hand before he could fully step back and looked up to him with an embarrassed flush. "We need to talk in private, you can thank me then," she explained in the barest whisper.

Understanding her desire for privacy, Shirou bit his tongue to hold his words for that time. With Rin still holding his hand, she led him through the door into the room she had been working in.

It was small and simplistic with an unused appearance. An ornate wooden counter with a few books and sheets of paper onto sat at the far wall, past a large flat table of similar design that made up the majority of the space and contained Illya's unconscious form. Based on the stacked chairs and unlabeled boxes stacked into the corner, it was a room designed for storage though it was kept clean and ordered regardless.

Being led in, the boy dropped Rin's hand and shifted past her to approach the table, certifying that she was alright with a contact-enhanced trace. There wasn't much he could determine in the way of foreign mana, but he could detect physical abnormalities. She was fine but the copy of Avalon he had implanted within her had disappeared some time ago, as he had expected.

The door behind him made a soft click and with a stream of breath, the Tohsaka joined him at this side. "Should I ask what happened or are you not going to tell me? We're enemies in this War but at the same time..." She trailed off, staring at the side of his face for an answer.

"We don't have to be enemies. Nothing says that the masters need to be killed." Sharpening his eyes, Shirou focused entirely on Illya as he recalled the events. Even though it happened just a few hours ago, it felt more like days. Words came as they were thought, starting from when Lancer first told him of the Einzbern's arrival. He even told Rin about both times he used his reality marble and what he knew about Rider.

Once he was finished, he gave the girl a look and found her staring at him in blatant concern. "Shirou, you can't push yourself so far with magecraft like that. Reality marbles are mostly undocumented, there's no telling what sort of repercussions using an incomplete one for so long can do to you." Her hand shifted to cover his own but her eyes moved to stare away from his face.

With an unnatural coldness, he responded before his brain understood his own answer. "So long as it lets me protect her it doesn't matter." Hearing himself in such a manner not only disturbed Rin but himself and while he questioned where the thought had originated, Rin asked him a question he was already sick of hearing.

"Are you feeling alright?" Hesitating when he didn't answer, she continued with obvious care in her tone. "You needed help to walk in and you look like you haven't slept in days."

Trying to avoid eye contact, he ran a hand down his face. "I'm fine, I haven't slept in a day so I'm just tired."

"It's more than that. You look different and even your skin feels weird." To familiarize herself with it, she ran her fingers along the back of his hand and almost flinched. "It's coarse like sandpaper."

Pulling his hand away at what he could only call an insult, the boy examined his own digits, finding nothing with his eyes. A trace revealed something more. Despite not having his reality marble active, portions of his skin were beginning to heal normally with a microscopic lattice pattern like sword flesh.

It was a subtle mutation but it was horrifying nonetheless. His reality marble was starting to override his own body. Just how damaging had his actions been?

He struggled to get out a single word, unable to focus on his newfound mutation and Rin. "If you keep putting yourself in danger you're going to wind up dead." The cold comment brought him back to the conversation. "And then you won't be able to protect anyone." She was right, if he got himself killed, nobody would be there to protect Illya.

"I-"

"You never think about what your reckless actions do to others," she continued, drawing Shirou's gaze.

Her face was contorted in a blend of emotions. Sadness, concern and fear all wrapped up in hot, wet anger. She didn't cry, Rin would never let herself, but her eyes were wet and on the edge. His hand hesitantly reached out to her but stopped partway. "Rin, I-"

"I couldn't sleep last night because I thought you were dead." Reaching beneath the collar of her sweater the magus retrieved something and roughly jarred downward to break the silver chain it was attached to. Thrusting her hand forward, he reflexively reached out to take it.

Examining the broken piece of jewelry, Shirou couldn't see anything beyond a simple rust coloured teardrop-shaped gemstone. The rust coloured darkened in shade as it neared the center but otherwise it was rather simplistic and far from anything noteworthy. "What is this?"

"It's what I used to keep track of you," Rin stated matter-of-factly. "I mentioned it to you before, but that was my way of knowing you were safe and alive. Before last night, there was something inside that reflected the strength of your heartbeat."

Turning it over in his fingers, the boy couldn't find anything to that description. "It's not working."

Rin stared up into his eyes resolutely, blinking rapidly to keep the wetness of her eyes from leaking. "Whatever you did last night broke it. I thought for sure that something had happened and you had died, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. There was so much I wanted to say when I saw you standing at my door but I couldn't believe you were alive either."

She was in pain. There wasn't a cut or bruise on her but she was hurting almost as much as he was. It only exacerbated his own suffering to see someone he was close to in such a condition, but there was something wrong. He wanted to reach out and hold her, comfort her with words and promises but his brain wouldn't let him. Something was telling him that it was a waste of energy.

That she was _superfluous._

He tried to force himself to consider her as important but a sharp stabbing pain struck the front of his head. Clutching at his forehead, the edges of his vision closed in and a single pervasive thought refused to leave.

 _She's an enemy master, killing her is just putting me one step closer to the Grail._

Gritting his teeth, Shirou forcibly ejected the thought and tried to understand where the hell it had even come from. It was as if there were two people fighting in his brain and he wasn't quite sure which one had the most control.

Absently, he noticed the warmth of a hand and a set of concerned eyes peering into his. "If you tell me what's going on I can try to help fix whatever it is."

Staring into those glassy aqua eyes, the boy debated with himself on what to do or how to even explain what he was experiencing. The evidence told him that his body was being altered by the use of his reality marble, but was such a thing even possible? And what if it was, and these mutations were permanent and would it only get worse? Would she think of him as some type of mutant and abandon him?

There was a pit within his stomach that made him feel sick, even while lost in Rin's eyes. She had always been for him before, would she still be now? "I think something happened with my reality marble," he admitted.

Rin blinked, understandably missing his meaning. "Did you figure out the next line?"

"I think I went too far with what I already have," he admitted. "A lot happened last night, there's a lot to tell."

"That's fine, we have all night," she responded automatically. "I might as well do it now, but I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the night and," she paused to take a large breath. "We can talk about it later."

"What about Illya?"

Rin was quick to respond. "Saber can take her to a bedroom, all of the guest rooms are available." He was in no condition to transport her himself, so he nodded absently and found both hands gripped tight to direct his entire body toward Rin. "The last time I saw you, you wanted to work together, right?"

Shirou blinked and looked down at their conjoined hands and a flickering, clear glimpse of the memories he had last night returned to him. Had Rin been at the Einzbern castle or had that been some sort of illusion? His mind was such a jumble that it was impossible to tell.

His memories drew him further, drawing him out of the Tohsaka manor and into some strange, sun-baked land of red. Feeling himself dissociation, the boy roughly yanked himself back to reality by tightening his grip on Rin's hands. Stumbling with an answer, he cleared his thoughts and nodded. Why was it so difficult to speak? "That's what I wanted to do, but your servant-"

"Won't be a problem anymore," Rin finished. Watching him struggle to form a response, Rin grew increasingly concerned. "You really need to sleep, Illya can rest too alright?"

There was a fog closing around his skull. His entire body felt heavy and it was difficult to concentrate on just standing upright. His eyes drooped closed and when they re-opened he was being led into a room on the second floor. As soon as the bed was within reach, the boy collapsed onto the soft surface and the fog eclipsed his mind, drawing him into that wicked heat.

… … …

… … …

The Magus Killer looked down at the digital watch strapped to his wrist, released a sharp breath, then looked toward Missy. "It doesn't look like Shirou is going to make it back in time, we're leaving without her."

Missy flinched violently and beamed at him with wide eyes. "But master, what about your plan?"

"You'll have to come back tomorrow to see if he returned. It's too dangerous to stay here any longer. I need you to grab one of my notebooks before we go." With a goal in mind, Missy quickly to complete it.

Looking out of the yard, Kiritsugu watched the sunlight climb up his legs before looking up to the sun as it fully disappeared behind the horizon. In a few minutes, total darkness would cover Fuyuki. Night-time had never been particularly frightening to him. Some said that monsters came out with the darkness, and in the time of the Grail War, they were right.

But monsters that came out at night weren't anything scary. Kiritsugu was more afraid of the monsters that strode around in broad daylight. Impatiently looking at his watch again, the man stuffed both hands into his coat and waited for Missy's arrival.

A hand landed on his left shoulder. It was odd coming from Missy but with stress so high it wasn't unexpected for people to act strangely. "Did you get the notebook?"

"I did, where did you say Shirou was again?"

Kiritsugu furrowed his brow. It wasn't like Missy to forget. Turning to look at her, he was met with something ivory and violet. Instincts kicked into overdrive and without hesitating, the same elbow that strange hand rested on raised up and shot back to strike the individual in the face.

There was no impact against his arm, so the attack had missed but he was already moving to make a second strike. Both hands worked simultaneously. The elbow that had just shot back stuffed itself into his coat to wrap around the grip of his second favourite weapon and his remaining free arm, the right, hooked sharply to collide with the side of the assailant's face.

His punch landed, but it glanced just slightly and didn't do any damage. Snapping the hand holding his gun up and out, something sharp and metallic embedded itself in his hand, forcing him to drop the weapon to the ground as his joints and muscles failed.

Despite the pain, his eyes had a chance to examine his assailant. It was a woman with charred, blackened skin of very lithe build. She was short, clad in soiled bandages and had flowing violet hair that descended to the back of her ankles. The only point of notable concern was the conversely clean ivory mask sat upon her face.

The realizations came all at once. There were no doubts that the person he was looking at was Assassin. They were similar to the one he saw during his War, but unmistakably different all the same. Their skin colour was far darker and their eyes were dominated by two orbs of blue flame that followed their face as it shifted. As far as he could tell, it wasn't a simple magecraft trick with the mask, as the flame poured from the eye slits themselves.

The servant wasn't moving yet and since he wasn't dead, that obviously wasn't their intention so he spared his wounded hand a glance. It wasn't pretty and he would bleed out if he didn't staunch the blood flow.

The voice he heard had unmistakably been Missy's, so the servant was capable of imitation to some capacity. Speaking of, where had she gone?

With a flick of the wrist, the glint of sharpened steel flashed to the night. Expecting another attack, he was surprised when she merely spoke. "We do not care for ancient warriors, we only search for the champion."

Not even bothering why trying to understand whatever riddle the servant spewed, he detailed the situation. With one hand down and one of his primary weapons on the ground, it wasn't the best start. He had a knife, a grenade and his Contender but none of those would be enough to cause any damage, let alone fast enough to land a hit.

"The warrior with no tongue is often soft of mind," the servant claimed, tossing the blade from one hand to the other. "Be careful not to hold your tongue too long. When next you try to use it, you may find it removed."

Listening after realizing he would be dead if she wanted him to be, the man narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"The dormant weapon speaks. Tell us, where is the champion?" Glancing over the servant's shoulder, Kiritsugu spotted Missy who was watching from the edge of the doorway. Seamlessly, the assassin turned her hand to point the blade in her direction. "Without sight in the light, when the night falls we see all."

Clenching his jaw in frustration, the Magus Killer decided their best option was to cooperate. "What champion?"

" _The_ champion," the servant confirmed, producing a ghostly laugh. "A champion exceeds expectations, this man has done precisely that. An heir, but not of blood and flesh."

Kiritsugu's eyes narrowed further before he realized what the servant was trying to ask. "You want to know where Shirou is," he stated more than asked. After the servant nodded, Kiritsugu asked why.

"It is easier to glean knowledge from others than it is to forge it alone." The assassin tilted her head when he hesitated further. "We will acquire his location regardless, it is only a matter of time." Holding his silence, Kiritsugu tried to figure out a possible way to escape this confrontation. If they tried to escape, would the servant simply kill them?

"What are your intentions?"

"We wish only to observe, nothing more and nothing less." Something about their tone was shockingly genuine, though trusting an assassin was a total leap of faith. As if sensing his uncertainty, the woman placed her empty hand on her chest and bowed. "Honour among thieves," she claimed.

If he didn't tell her, she would kill him, it was obvious. What scared him was the uncertainty of what she would do if he _did_. "My knowledge has a condition."

The servant merely nodded.

"Do not harm Lancer's master, my daughter."

The servant picked up their form immediately. "To harm the vessel defeats our very purpose of existence."

Huffing out a short breath that was a mix between a laugh and disbelief, Kiritsugu lightly shook his injured hand as if to throw the pain away. Would answering the question involve himself in the War or were his actions necessary to ensure something? "The Tohsaka manor."

With those three words, an eerie laugh echoed from the servant. "The forgotten weapon is compatible with others, a stirring development. We will be in touch and do not worry, we will come to you."

The servant faded away, but rather than become a cloud of mana sparks like Lancer, the servant seemingly became one with the darkness itself and vanished from sight.

Once certain they were gone, Missy exited the house. "Master?"

Kiritsugu reached down to collect his dropped weapon. "The plan stays the same," was all he said.

Approaching, the woman watched and stared into his eyes when he stood upright. "May I tend to your injury before we leave?"

… … …

… … …

Not only was Rin refusing to listen to him, but she wouldn't even let him hear through her ears. Maybe it had been a mistake to lay all of his cards out on the table, but this War was a first and his resentment had nearly compelled him.

There was an intense amount of hate for Shirou Emiya barely being contained by his own sense of will. Rin had told him that they were different, that the dissimilarities were obvious but it hardly mattered.

A Shirou Emiya was always a Shirou Emiya. It didn't matter whether they were from one world or the next, the inevitable transformation into a Hero of Justice, a counter guardian, was assured.

He had considered appearing and murdering Shirou before Rin could say a word. Though, if her desires were strong enough, she could enact a command seal with just a simple thought. He would know, he had done exactly that himself.

If she was refusing to let him listen in, he would simply _forget_ to inform her he was leaving to fulfill his other obligations. He had said he would meet with Luvia every day and he was rather interested in hearing about what they found at the Einzbern castle.

Taking a step off the top of the roof, his entire body suddenly screamed in danger. Snatching his foot back, the servant followed his instincts and span on the spot, kicking out his foot as he did to strike whatever had snuck up on him.

His leg collided with something, but rather than follow through it abruptly stopped. Something sharp clenched down, threatening to break his reinforced bones through pressure alone.

Before they shattered, the man pulled his other leg up to let his upper body fall. Cushioning the impact with the roof by bending his arms, he roughly forced himself toward the attacker and used his other leg to kick the foe at where he suspected center mass would be.

With a sharp grunt, his opponent was toppled backwards, but his grip was resolute. Being thrown in a large arc, Archer was released at the apex and tossed clear from the roof into the backyard of the Tohsaka manor.

With a quick shift of his weight, the man landed on his feet and immediately projected a bow to fire at his former location. Before he could, something solid and robust collided with his side and sent him sprawling across the ground and his bow out of his hand.

Rolling with the blow and reinforcing his arms, the servant launched himself into the air. Another bow filled his hands and dozens of broken arrows littered his previous location, exploding violently as they struck what appeared to be absolutely nothing.

Landing on the ground, Archer traced the ground and air to try and find disturbances but came up entirely dry. It was as if his enemies didn't exist but that was obviously false. The servant reinforced his eyes but couldn't see anything either despite the night being illuminated with a quarter moon. Just as he considered his own insanity, something at the edges of his vision shifted and brought forth a hail of arrows.

Predictably with the explosions, Rin's panicked voice filled his mind. _"Archer, what's happening out there?"_

 _"Company,"_ was all he had time to respond with before another shifting shape forced him to release another volley of arrows.

His instincts were screaming so many directions that it was starting to become a blur. It was as if he was under attack from a hundred different directions but it was obvious most of them were false positives.

The strongest signal was from directly behind and a quick duck only made him look stupid as no attack came.

Halfway through standing upright, something sharp pierced the armour protecting his midsection. Grimacing at the burning pain, his arm snapped down to slam the upper limb of his bow upon the target.

He managed to actually hit something this time, and with a soft thump, a humanoid figure gradually appeared on the ground from the darkness. Their skin was blackened and their head was covered with some sort of hood, but it was undoubtedly a servant. Assassin, if the tactics, coordination and number of attacks were any indication.

 _"Stay inside, the servant is Assassin, an expert at killing masters."_ While it might have been redundant to tell Rin such a thing, there was no harm in being extra cautious.

Scanning his perimeter for the next threat, an eerie silent stillness descended upon the area. Archer couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched by a thousand hungry eyes that all wanted to tear him limb from limb. Seconds passed but he couldn't see so much as a shift in the darkness. Then something struck his back.

It was incredibly thin and the impact had been nonexistent but it still managed to cut straight through his clothing regardless. It hadn't been particularly deep, but like a cat's scratch, it had torn rather than sliced and caused more pain than anything. Before he could fully turn to face whatever had attacked him, he received another lashing in the same spot.

Gritting his teeth, the servant snapped his bow in the assumed direction of the attack and launched a half dozen replicating arrows in a blanket strike. While the innumerable minor explosions echoed through the night, another slash sent his back arching backwards. While not life-threatening, it was certainly annoying as all hell.

Growling, Archer whipped his head around, catching a haunting laugh he recognized all too well. "You want to play dirty? That's fine by me."

Rather than direct his bow to some target on the ground, the man shifted his attention directly upwards and pulled a very unique sword from his reality marble.

The sword materialized and upon completion the archer let it fly. With a rather unique whistle, it flew straight up into the sky, seemingly doing nothing at all and eliciting another sickening laugh from around him.

Archer couldn't help but smirk in self-satisfaction. With smooth movements, the man locked the bow horizontally and drew the string back without a nocked arrow. Closing his eyes as another slash struck the same exact spot on his back, Archer began a countdown. "Three," another slash. Blood was dripping down the open wounds on his back. "Two," there were shuffling noises at his sides. "One," he could hear the whistle of his weapon returning.

Opening his eyes to a squint, a brilliant flash of pure white light illuminated the entire backyard as if it were noon. More than a dozen cries and screams of pain resounded at the same time and at least a hundred figures became known to his eyes. They all dressed in similar fashion, ivory skull-like masks iconic to the Hassan-i-Sabbah but had different body shapes. As the light continued bathing them all, dozens vanished into clouds of black smoke though dozens of slightly similar ones remained.

Deciding to start somewhere and go from there, Archer materialized an arrow so that it was already notched in his bow and released his fingers on the first target. It was a man, or so his body shape would suggest. In the time it took to blink, the arrow landed within center mass and exploded, blasting the target backwards through hedges into the wrought iron gate surrounding the property. The light was fading already, but it was more than enough for him to see every target surrounding his location.

There were exactly twenty-seven still standing, and they all appeared to be in intense writhing pain under the light. A handful searched for growing shadows to hide within but they wouldn't get the chance. Moving and drawing his bow at the same time, an arrow was formed and fired as soon as it possibly could be. Another enemy was blasted to the wall and the cycle repeated for five more assailants.

On the eighth, something strange happened. With his sharp ears, he could hear the remaining assailants chant an incantation in unison. " _Zabaniya: Febrile Inspiration._ "

It was a noble phantasm undoubtedly, though it was different from the one he was used to. The Assassin he had dealt with had a similar phrase to activate his noble phantasm, but that had been " _Delusional Heartbeat"_. Obviously he wasn't fighting the same servant, but it was still something of note regardless.

The light had faded to a level around that of a full moon, offering decent visibility but nothing spectacular. Squinting to locate his next target, he could have sworn that their skin had taken on a glimmering quality. The thought didn't prevent him from nocking another arrow and firing it away.

Blinking, he heard the impact and opened his eyes to the explosion, but his target remained standing. In fact, they hadn't even moved from the spot and they had started laughing.

Scowling, Archer drew the string back again and replaced his arrows with a sword; simple ones, to test his opponent's new defences.

String drawn, weapon projected, the synthetic bow groaned as if anticipating the stress it would undergo. His fingers released and the bow fought to escape his grasp as it flung the projectile. Holding steady, the sword-arrow streamed through the night faster than the normal arrows he had fired before. Considering the fact his bow had been made to fire blades, such a thing was to be expected.

What wasn't expected, was for Assassin to deflect the new weapon with the back of their hand. Archer felt his eyes widen in surprise of their own volition and as the weapon exploded harmlessly in the background, blue orbs of flame blossomed upon the servant's mask.

The one that had deflected his sword spoke. "We had expected such childish tricks from the shadow's imitation. We expect many more as well. You fail to meet even the lowest expectation."

"I expected you to be less of a pain in my ass but it seems like we're both out of luck."

The remaining Assassin's spoke in uncanny unison. "You will die this night. Find salvation in dying quietly with dignity, in lieu of fighting toward a miserable, hopeless demise."

All at once, the Assassin's fell silent, leering at him as the light returned to its original darkened state. With the darkness in place, the Assassin's were only identifiable by the flick ring orbs of flame. Getting flashbacks to the night prior, the Assassins rapidly multiplied until the number was overwhelming.

For overwhelming numbers, he needed overwhelming offence and only one asset in his arsenal provided such a thing. Activating all of his magic circuits, a rush of heat and mana flooded through his veins. " **I am the bone of my sword**."

The Assassin's collectively laughed, eyes shifting over one another as the perimeter they made steadily contracted. Softly, beneath the sound of cackling laughter, there was the unfolding of heavy cloth and a disgusting crackle of disused joints. " _Zabaniya…"_

There was no way he could enact his reality marble before Assassin used whatever noble phantasm was at their disposal. Grimacing, he considered his options and found he didn't have very many; fewer still that he would willingly choose. Trying to continue his aria was a fool's errand at that point, so he would have to change tactics again.

Before he could, a decidedly womanly cry broke his concentration. Several pairs of flaming eyes shifted to the source before leaping away like cats from a pool of water. One side of the circle had fled and it had been a good decision. A wall of compressed air rapidly flew through the area, levelling the delicately trimmed foliage of the backyard and flinging loose objects about.

Archer didn't even need to look to know who it was, and it was only due to quick thinking that he prevented an absolute catastrophe. Using the mana that would have been devoted to his reality marble, the man projected a thick white cloak he had used many years ago. Materializing in a mere moment, the garment covered his features and allowed some decent anonymity in the night.

Not about to waste the exit created for him, the servant quickly shifted mana into his legs and leapt through the gap into the cleared patch of the yard. Swift, clanking footfalls sounded from behind him as he tried to lock onto the moving Assassins. Unfortunately, they had all returned to the shadows and the flaming eyes once acting as his markers had disappeared.

Within a moment, the metal clamour was at his side and a regrettably familiar voice reached his ears. "I apologize for being so late. There was a complication with my master's sister."

His back unconsciously straightened at the excuse. Something was wrong with Illya? Was she in pain or at risk of dying? Blinking and refocusing on the matter at hand, he quickly scanned the perimeter to find dozens of shifting shapes surrounding them. With an agreeable grunt, the servant haphazardly tossed his synthetic bow to the night and used some clever sleight of hand to make it appear as if he had drawn his tested swords from within his cloak.

With a soft clatter, something cold and hard pressed against his wounded back. Without having to look, the man understood what the King of Knights was doing. Surrounded on all sides, their best option was standing back to back and handling enemies as they came.

The night was deathly still beyond the shifting shapes swirling around them. Archer was curious as to why they refused to attack with Saber present, but the answer was more or less part of the question.

A voice from behind opened his ears but his other senses were devoted to watching his side. "Dragon of Wind, why is it that you protect the false shadow? His death is of no concern to you."

Saber remained resolute, and memories from a time long forgotten came flooding back anew. "Archer's master and my own have entered an alliance," the woman said bluntly. "It would be a grave mark against me were I to allow him to fall."

Saber was nothing if not perceptive. Shirou and her had obviously narrowed down his identity to a single class and she had discovered he was a male simply from a grunt, though the latter was less surprising. Looked over his shoulder, a single motionless pair of flaming eyes stared back at him.

The Assassin's hissed like a snake ready to attack. "The champion and the heartless mistress, how foul a taste." A rancorous disjointed wave of aggravated noises swirled around them and continued like a swarm of angered hornets. "Foul, foul, foul! How foul to have such meticulous planning ruined by Helios!" There was unhidden rage in the servant's voice, the first genuine emotion Archer had ever seen. "Perhaps our role is less of the playwright and more the actor?"

With a soft rush of air and a loud clank, Saber drew attention to herself. "I know nothing of the riddles you speak, Assassin. If you have no desire to fight us both, your only option is to leave."

The servant in the shadows paused. "We see, we see. Sophocles then, it is unavoidable. We are to draw the champion as the sun did Icarus." The blue orbs shook vigorously up and down. "This has been a revelation, something imperative and we thank you humbly."

Rolling his eyes beneath the brim of his cloak, Archer wondered if Assassin would ever shut up. Saber appeared to be listening intently as if she understood the message entirely though Archer couldn't help but remain focused on Assassin.

The servant's eyes drooped until they were nearly out of sight, was the servant bowing in the darkness? "As punishment, your pitiful existence will last another day."

In the time it took the blink, the eyes vanished and Archer's sense of danger left with them. Breathing out a soft sigh that steamed in the night, the man "replaced" both weapons beneath his cloak before turning his back to Saber.

He knew what this Shirou Emiya looked like - like Archer himself - but had no idea what he sounded or acted like. _Anything_ he did had a chance to clue her in to his identity and there was no telling what sort of disaster that would result in.

With the threat gone, expectedly the woman turned to face him and offered a stiff respectful nod while lowering her weapon. She was waiting for him to speak, but when he neglected to say a word, she narrowed her eyes and spoke on his behalf. "You're welcome," which was far less warming than it ought to have been with a blade in her hand.

Keeping his head down, he made an exaggerated nod to ensure Saber would see that was what he was doing. "Being our first encounter, I should inform you that I have not forgotten your attempt at my master's life."

He couldn't respond to that with any sort of gesture unless he wanted to shrug. There was a high chance that would lead to a battle though, so he remained motionless.

Saber continued despite the silence. "Our masters have decided it best to work together. Even so, I do not trust you with my master's life and will not allow you to be out in a position that could control it. If you have any complaints with such a notion then feel free to voice them right now." Even through the thick cloak, he could feel Saber's burning emerald eyes bore holes through him.

The King of Knights was subtly challenging him to a battle while pretending to be defensive, though he wasn't falling for it. Keeping silent, Saber eventually turned to walk away. "Very well, then I hope that we may find victory together, Archer."

He nodded once more, releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he did. Lifting his head, he watched as Saber strode confidently back to the Tohsaka manor, dispelling her armour and donning a suit as she did.

He blinked and grew confused. Not only did he not have a suit for her during his war, but he also didn't have the mana supply to support the on-demand formation of her armour. Thinking about Shirou and himself, Saber's comment on Illya struck him in the face.

 _"Rin is something wrong with Illy-"_

 _"Just shut up for a minute!"_

Flinching like a whipped dog, Archer rubbed the side of his skull in pain as the sound of Rin's angered voice bounced around. It seemed that nobody wanted him around, which wasn't entirely a problem. Letting out a sigh, the man turned away from the manor and looked off into the nearby forest. He still had to meet with Luvia and he had gained an excuse to be away from the manor.

… … …

… … …

The girl's eyes flickered open to a strange room. It wasn't the same one she had fallen asleep in and it definitely wasn't a place she remembered.

Eyes fully open, the girl realized she was in a different bed entirely and that she wasn't alone in the room. Twisting to peer at her watcher, a familiar face met her eyes.

"It is good to see you are awake, O master. We hope your rest was peaceful at the very least. We tried to be quiet while moving in your affairs." The voice from behind the ivory mask was soft, surprisingly so.

Looking around while clearing her eyes for sleep, Sakura drank in the layout of what was supposed to be her new room for the remainder of the War. Shockingly, it was far more luxurious than her real room back in the Matou manor. With hardwood floors and cloth-based partitions for walls, it was illuminated by flickering candles spaced on the various pieces of furniture. On that same notion, it was fully furnished with a standing wardrobe, dresser, night tables and even a large vanity; all of which appeared to come from the same set. Through the gentle firelight, she could see an extremely familiar swan statue resting on the center of the vanity, carefully watching over her.

Looking down at herself, Sakura realized she had been sleeping while fully clothed but she didn't remember falling asleep. All she could remember was a strange dream where she was watching people fight at Rin's home. Had that been real?

Throwing the covers off herself, the girl kicked off her bed in search of her servant. As the dreaminess left her, she realized that the ceiling, formerly thought to be nonexistent, was a large swatch of black cloth strung across the area. If the objective was to make it appear invisible, it had been a success.

The door was set far from the bed, interestingly made of wood and joined to the cloth walls with clumsy craftsmanship. The well-made room made such a simple thing seem so much worse than it actually was. Opening the door, Sakura was greeted to pitch blackness. Blinking in confusion, she reached her hand out tentatively, as if the mere lack of light would somehow bite.

Glancing between the room and the pervasive darkness, Sakura collected one of the candles from her room and stepped out into the darkness.

Even with a source of light, she couldn't see very much at all. On the first step, she had a minor heart attack as the edge of the door dropped off a few inches onto solid stone. Stumbling from the act, Sakura realized just how dark it really was outside of her room.

Every direction beyond that which lead toward the door was pitch black. Even the candle did nothing to reveal any definitive boundary beyond the floor, a cold blackish gray.

If the stone floor, dampness, darkness and echo of her footsteps were anything to go off of, she was in some sort of cave. Thinking back to Assassin's comments earlier, it made sense. This was supposed to be their new home for the War but how could it be considered anything of the sort when it was so inhospitable was beyond her.

"Is the residence suited to your stature?" The hollow voice from behind her nearly gave her a heart attack. Whirling around she saw a copy of Assassin looming over her like a predator over prey. "Custom tooled for your comfort," the imitation claimed, tilting its head to an awkward painful angle.

Awkwardly, Sakura nodded. "It's nice, but how did you get all of it down here?"

The Assassin snickered and its head descended to her eye level in a gradual, fluid motion. The only thing she could see was the ivory mask being bathed in blue light from the servant's eyes. Its body was concealed in total darkness, further contributing to the creepy appearance. "Thieves of the night work best with secrets closely guarded."

Translating the riddle as, " _I'm not telling_ ", Sakura decided that she was better off not knowing anyway. It was strange to see other versions of Assassin beyond the Original greeting her but before she could ask the question, Assassin spoke again. "We must speak of your betrothed."

Sakura blinked and asked, "Shirou? Is there something wrong with him?"

The assassin softly shook its head. "The champion holds no physical ailments, however, he is within the company of a siren." When Sakura didn't express any sort of comprehension of the message, the servant tried explaining it in a new way. "With a rival of the heart?"

Jerking to attention, Sakura caught on. "Shirou is with Rin? But they're both masters, are they working together somehow?"

"We have deemed cooperation highly likely," the servant bobbed its head in agreement. "The means of which it was achieved are beyond our capabilities."

Sakura struggled to comprehend the thought. Why had Shirou decided to work with Rin over her? Both of their servants had tried to attack him, but Rin's had been far more aggressive. Was there any specific reason that he had chosen Rin over her? Did he love her more?

"O master?" A voice echoed from deeper within the cave. Turning away from the first copy of Assassin, she spotted another looming mask slowly approaching within the darkness. "I should have expected you to be curious upon waking, but your best interest is remaining within your room, lest you get lost."

"What do you mean?" Sakura began, turning to look toward where she knew her room would be. She was taken aback after finding empty darkness where the room _should_ have been. Had her sense of direction been that far off the mark?

"Losing focus on one's surroundings is often fatal." Hands landed on her shoulders before she was abruptly turned thirty degrees to the right. If she squinted, she could just barely see the flickering flame of a candle through an open door.

Biting the inside of her lip due to the embarrassment of being treated like a child, Sakura couldn't conjure a reasonable response. Deciding to obey her servant and return to her room, she carefully stepped through the darkness toward the light. "One of the other Assassin's told me about Shirou."

"We know, our eyes are shared. The development is unfortunate but we must react regardless. The false imitation, the Dragon of Wind and the white knight are operating in unison. We need to change our way of operation, but we need your permission."

"As long as Shirou doesn't get hurt, do what you need to,' Sakura claimed. There was a chance that Assassin would have to kill Rin to separate the two, but a part of her thought such an outcome was _good_. That part of her _wanted_ Assassin to kill her so she wouldn't have to fight for Shirou any more.

At the same time, an opposing part considered Rin a friend and she was her sister. Had Kiritsugu managed to kill Zouken or keep her safe, there was no telling how different things might have been.

Assassin produced a hollow laugh over her shoulder, squeezing with their nightmarishly long fingers. "If that is your desire, we will conduct ourselves accordingly."

… … …

… … …

Stepping out from behind a tree, the blonde woman nearly leapt out of her skin. "Shirou? What the hell are you doing here?" Baring her teeth angrily, Luvia raised one hand to form small crimson and black orbs at each fingertip.

Rearing up one hand in a display of friendliness, Archer wondered what could have caused such a spontaneous reaction. "Coming to speak with you as we agreed."

Luvia blinked sporadically. "Are you thick?"

Before he could try to discern what she meant, something bright and pink landed beside the girl. He recognized that it was a servant, another woman, and warning bells chimed in his mind. There was more to her than he could sense and with his luck, it was anything but good. Donning a picture-perfect smile, she spoke. "I told you he'd be back. No matter what men always come back for me." With unflinching hazel eyes, the woman lecherously leered him from head to toe, forcing an unconscious shiver through his body as he felt sullied by her mere gaze.

Something was _wrong_ and the only explanation was Shirou Emiya. Why was it always his former self that landed him into deep trouble? Had Assassin not attacked, he could have watched over the Einzbern castle and witnessed what went on within but of course, he had no such luck.

Was that what the strange servant had meant? " _A man who worries too much about the cobra cannot see that he is trapped in quicksand."_ It made sense when the meaning had struck him in the mouth.

Going against every instinct he had but following what little information he could gather from a mere glance and sentence, the man bowed his head. "It is as she says, I have returned."

The servant produced a giggle that grated on his nerves. "Of course you have, silly, but where are your servants? I doubt they would be so lenient on allowing you to leave." His head snapped upward to spot the snake-like grin of Luvia's servant. "I don't believe we've met," she claimed with icy transparency.

Archer made a soft tsk and narrowed his eyes while standing tall. The servant had seen straight through him, but how was such a thing possible? Caster hadn't realized his servant-status, but he hadn't observed him in spirit form either. The invisible form provided additional insight to other servants, namely that they _were_ servants. "I can't say it's very nice to meet you," the man grumbled, bringing Kanshou and Bakuya to the forefront of his mind.

Rider took a step ahead of her master, unable to even conceal the blonde due to being both shorter and thinner. "I knew there was something special about you, or- well, the other you that is."

Luvia looked clueless behind her servant, staring between the two as if they were both insane. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you tell? He's so much different; the cold eyes, the lifeless expression and his entire aura are nothing like they were," the woman gestured widely with her hands, face split wide like a child marvelling at some magician.

"Are you saying-"

"This isn't the boy you know, this is a servant _of_ the boy you know." Archer made a tsk and prepared to form his weapons at a moment's notice. "He's been messing with you for some time now, I wonder why."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said I was a future version of myself just trying to fix a mistake I made in my past?" As unbelievable as it sounded, that was almost precisely what he was trying to do, but the mistake just happened to be his entire past self.

The two women responded simultaneously with opposing answers. Rider had agreed while Luvia had not though both glared at him for an answer. Rather than provide one, Archer made a soft noise with his mouth again. "This has been a waste of my time. Are you going to let me leave or am I going to have to fight my way out?"

Rider's smile turned to a pout. "That's it? You're not going to try and kill us now that we've found out your secret or well, I dunno, try and do _anything_?"

Archer crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "Not interested. You won't have a chance to tell Shirou Emiya anyway, so it hardly matters."

Rider blinked and without changing her expression merely said, "Spooky. Well, you don't seem like much fun so I'll let you go. Next time I might not be so generous though." As Rider's smile widened, Luvia only grew more confused.

Archer's goal in toying with Luvia separate from Rin had been to make life harder for Shirou Emiya. With Luvia being both a master in the War _and_ aware of his situation, any option he might have had was out of the question.

"You're seriously not going to do _anything?_ " Luvia's voice was questioning her servant, but Archer cared little. Turning away and slipping back into the trees surrounding the Edelfelt manor, the man wondered if it had been a sign. Perhaps it was time to start being more direct in his involvement with Shirou Emiya.

… … …

… … …

"What do you mean Shirou isn't waking up?"

She could feel her blood begin to boil standing before Rin and the Tohsaka seemed to actually shrink beneath her vicious gaze. "Exactly what I said. He's out of mana and he's exhausted beyond the point of consciousness. I don't know how he managed to even stay awake for so long in his condition and it's a miracle he even made it here."

"Is he going to die?"

Rin shrugged. "Shirou has survived a lot, but this isn't just a cut or stabbing that can seal itself over time. Because he has to keep supporting Saber, his mana has no chance to restore itself, so he is being constantly depleted. If we don't do _something_ there's a chance he'll die."

Less than ten minutes ago, she had woken up in a strange room with her mind back at the Einzbern Castle. Thankfully Lancer and Rin were there to fill her in but it hardly helped ease the jarring transition regardless. Allegedly she had been under some sort of spell and it had been quite difficult for even Rin to remove completely. The details of the time during her consciousness were sparse, but she understood the overall picture.

Rin had quickly left her alone with Lancer to handle something else. The time had given Illya an opportunity to restore her servant to peak condition. While their overall team still wasn't at full strength without Shirou, with the addition of Rin's servant they were close.

While the Tohsaka might have had a servant, Illya heavily doubted that they could be as versatile as Shirou; he had held off Berserker single-handedly after all. Saber and Lancer couldn't do that together. Waking her brother was the highest priority for reasons beyond his strength in combat.

Illya planted both hands on her hips. "How can you call yourself magus if you can't fix a little problem like that?"

The glare Rin show back could have melted steel but Illya remained cool as a winter breeze. "Healing magecraft is an incredibly intricate field very few magi can master. Our family didn't care about healing cuts and burns. We were more concerned with reaching the root, something important."

Leering up at the taller woman, the two battled one another with their eyes. It was an intense war and neither of the two were prepared to back down. Her body warmed by several degrees in a snap as her circuitry jumped to life. Illya prepared to threaten Rin into doing something when a soft noise of air sounded over her shoulder. "I hate to intervene, but the amount of mana you're sending my way is getting hard to manage."

With a growl, Illya turned off her circuits and took a deep breath to relax. "So how are we going to fix Shirou?"

Rin sighed, closed her eyes and leaned her back against the nearby wall. "I can try a few things, but there's no guarantee they will work. In a pinch, you could use blood to restore a little bit of mana but it won't work on someone who's entirely empty."

Illya huffed air from her nose. "Well then let's start. I'll help where I can but nothing from the Einzbern's alchemy can restore mana on such short notice."

Rin moved off the wall and donned a look of spontaneous clarity. "Lancer, did you say that Illya almost overwhelmed you with mana?" The servant nodded, and Rin placed a hand beneath her chin thoughtfully. "How much mana do you have, Illya?"

The girl shrugged in extreme uncertainty. "I know I have a limit but it's practically infinite I think."

Rin shot the hand beneath her chin forward in the shape of a gun. "Then I have a new idea that should work perfectly."

Illya made a noise after being taken aback by the sudden shift in enthusiasm. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

A grin spread across the Tohsaka's face that sent cold shivers down Illya's back. She made it all the more menacing by raising her hands and cracking her knuckles. "I'm so glad you said that; now take off your clothes."

When Illya merely gaped and blinked, Lancer made a soft awkward chuckle. "I'll give you two some privacy." Whipping her head around to beam up at Lancer desperately, the servant was already gone, leaving her alone with the malevolent Tohsaka.

Hesitantly twisting back to face Rin once more, Illya couldn't help but feel like the last tempura shrimp on a table between Saber, Shirou and Taiga. Rin had already approached, standing just behind her with a look of pure malice. "You said you'd do _anything_ after all."

… … …

… … …

Shirou woke up.

The transition from empty unconsciousness to being awake had been instantaneous. He remembered passing out on Rin's guest-room bed, and then his eyes opened wide to a point obviously much later in time. He knew it was later for several reasons:

It was dusk when he passed out and he had barely hit the side of the bed. After reawakening, it appeared to be sunrise, he was sleeping normally and there was someone else in the bed beside him.

Turning his head softly, he spotted snow-white hair, a small, elegant face and closed long-lashed eyes. There was only one person he knew with such discernible features. He had woken in soreness but the sight of her resting peacefully was enough to wash it away. If she was beside him, she had obviously woken up which meant Rin had removed whatever magecraft had been keeping her unconscious.

He struggled to move his body onto its side, every muscle protesting fiercely with a soreness more than any he had experienced after training. Even after sleeping for some time, his body and mind were exhausted though something told him that sleeping more wasn't going to help.

With his right arm freed, he gently reached out to touch Illya's head and move hair away from her face, holding short as he remembered something important. It had been days since the girl had been gifted with a copy of Avalon. Their time apart had wasted an opportunity for him to give her a longer life. He had the chance now, he wouldn't squander it.

Closing his eyes and sucking in a painful breath, he visualized Avalon from deep within his body. Before activating his circuits, he ran a quick trace of his own body to ensure he had enough mana for the operation in the first place.

He did, but only just. Activating his circuits to warm them up while he whispered the tracing aria, a stabbing pain began at the base of his neck and spread across every point of skin his circuits lied beneath. He could tell something was wrong with him immediately, but the job before him overwrote any concerns.

Tracing aria finalized, the wireframe of Avalon steadily filled itself in from top to bottom. With each inch filled with material, the pain grew more intense and the heat from his circuits magnified. Once complete, the boy opened his eyes to a pair of crimson ones staring right back at him.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, eyeing him with a steady, unblinking glare. "What are you doing with _that_ specifically?" Her eyes flickered down to the radiating projection of Avalon within Shirou's outstretched hand.

Shirou couldn't speak. There was so much that was _wrong_ with what he was doing and he had never considered what Illya would say or think if he caught him in the act. "I was-"

"Giving me a projection of Avalon," Illya surmised on his behalf, further stunning him into silence. "But why?"

Opening his mouth released a small wisp of steam. "With Saber's mana it-"

"-Would let me live longer and keep me safe," Illya finished again. When he could only stare in befuddlement, she continued. "The first time you did it, I was just pretending to be asleep. I didn't really know what you did that night, but I put it together after a while. Breathing got easier and things didn't ache so much in the mornings." Likely seeing the question forming in his eyes, she continued. "I knew about Avalon and had watched your wounds seal themselves up so what else could it have been?"

She had known from the start? To think Illya had known exactly what he had been planning left him at a loss for words. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you sorry?" She asked softly, taking hold of the floating relic between them. With a soft whitish-blue light, the surface of the artificial scabbard steadily phased through Illya's skin into her body.

Being honest with himself, he didn't entirely know why he was sorry. What he had done seemed like a gross invasion of privacy. Injecting a thousands-year-old relic into someone as they slept didn't seem like the most consensual thing. "I just wanted you to live a little longer."

Illya smiled warmly. "I was never supposed to live for a long time. Even when I was younger, Old Man Acht said I wouldn't make it to the next Grail War." Slowly, the girl lifted herself up in the bed to a sitting position and tucked loose hair behind her ears. "At least I proved him wrong." She was dressed in fluffy off-pink pyjamas that were blatantly several sizes too big. She had likely borrowed them from rin, as her hands were drowned beneath the lengthy pushed up sleeves.

Shirou tried to sit up in bed as well but after struggling to roll onto his back he decided that he wasn't about to move any time soon. "You'll live many years after too, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Illya shot back without remorse. "Not even a single servant has been killed so there's no way we can know how things will turn out."

The realistic side of Illya was far too jarring so early in the morning. She was right, but it was far too blunt and similar to Kiritsugu for his own tastes. "I promised to protect you, so I'll do whatever it takes to keep it "

Illya panned her eyes over his rigid form sorrowly. "Right now you can hardly move, you can't protect anyone unless you rest."

A whisp of anger and determination stirred within him. Willing energy through his body, he struggled to accomplish the herculean task of sitting up against the bed's headrest. Releasing a struggling breath once in place, he shot her sister a weak smile and said, "see?"

Sighing miserably, Illya shook her head. "Sometimes you scare me with how determined you are. I'm not made of glass, I can take care of myself you know."

He wanted to ask why she hadn't contributed in the battle back at the Einzbern castle but realized there were several reasons beyond simply being told to hide by Kiritsugu. The look of sheer terror on her face as he laid half-dead upon the ground was permanently etched into his memory.

"Are you alright?' Illya asked softly before he could make a response to her last comment.

The sudden change in topic was jarring but understandable. Looking down at the rest of his body he could understand her concern. His left arm had still yet to fully heal. There were still visible necrotic scars at both the point where it met his shoulder and along the upper and lower portions where mutations had burst from the skin. Pinpricks of pain sporadically danced across its entire surface but that had to have been from an improper sleeping position or something of the sort.

His arm wasn't Shirou's greatest concern, however. Flesh could heal, it would grow back in time with Avalon. Whatever had happened to his _mind_ during his careless use of the reality marble might have been permanent. Even then, where he expected to be overjoyed at his sister's awakening, he only felt a flash of joy. It was as if his emotions had been numbed but how could such a thing even be possible?

"I think so," he murmured.

Immediately, Illya's face soured. "You know you can't lie to me, so why would you try?" Returning a look of cluelessness, her expression eased. "Unless you aren't sure yourself."

Whatever limit he could have possibly lied shattered on the Einzbern castle floor. He had been exhausted to the point of collapse before contacting Rider and she had somehow squeezed more out of him by sicking him on Berserker.

Blinking, he realized just how much of the night had come back to him. He could remember fragments of the night and sketchy details; far more than the heavy fog he had tried to see through the day after. He had tried to fight Rider and _something_ had affected his mind. She had used him, manipulating what he saw and heard so he would work with her and somehow he had fought Lancer.

But then Lancer turned out to be Berserker. His reality marble had been the only option, but even if it was, it had consumed more than half of his body at its worst point. Even if it hadn't been for long, he had been more sword than man.

Both the recollection of a full-body coldness during that night and the mere thought of letting the reality marble conversion get worse brought a shivering chill to his body. He had never been afraid of much, but the thought of becoming a sword-statue terrified him to no end.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Illya claimed, snapping him from his thoughts.

Opening his mouth to speak, he had to clear his throat before he could, giving him a chance to change what he would say. "What time is it?"

"Sunrise, so somewhere around seven?"

"I've been sleeping for that long?" Shirou gasped, feeling a tight pain in his right kidney. With a soft murmur, Shirou wondered if Kiritsugu had called and painfully reached into the pocket of his pants to withdraw a cellphone.

As expected, he had _three_ missed calls from a contact simply named "K.E." All of them were hours ago, so obviously whatever the old man had wanted, it hadn't been of utmost importance. He would have to return the calls later when he could hold his arms up for more than a few seconds. While his entire body was sore and stiff, there wasn't any pain if he remained motionless and everything _appeared_ fine. "Maybe it'd be a good idea to get out of bed, moving might help. You can tell me if I missed anything on the way down the stairs."

… … …

… … …

"At least everyone is awake and somewhat close to living," Rin sighed, breaking the otherwise awkward silence that had lingered around the room for some time.

The Tohsaka had wrangled the two Emiya children under the guise of breakfast. It didn't take more than a single step outside of his room for Shirou to smell that no such meal would be waiting for them, even though his growling stomach demanded it. Instead, she had seated them beside one another and claimed a chair across like an employer evaluating an employee.

It was tough to call the room they sat in a living room. While spacious with bookshelves and cushioned furniture to sit on, it held a design more suited to business deals between greedy executives smoking large cigars. There wasn't even a television or coffee table to set things on either, making the emptiness palpable.

With Shirou lying half-way over the armrest on one of a loveseat and Illya planted respectfully on the other, Rin managed a miserable smile that failed to meet her eyes. "Where's Saber?"

Shirou managed to make a soft shrug. He knew she was around based on the strength of their link but otherwise, he was blind. A soft noise of moving air precluded the appearance of a knight in golden white armour. "My liege is enjoying the night sky within the rear courtyard."

Shirou caught a twitch at the bottom of Rin's eye. "I see, then Archer can enjoy her company."

Lancer tilted his head partly. "Archer left the property shortly after the battle last night. My liege has been maintaining the perimeter in their stead."

Another twitch. "I see, thank you." The girl let her eyes stare straight ahead toward the floor. Just as the awkward silence returned, the girl blinked and focused on Shirou. "I wanted to ask you both some questions."

"Assuming we'll tell you any answers," Illya snapped back before Shirou could even open her mouth. Twisting his head to glare at her in surprise, she threw back a glare that told him she was in absolute control. Were he in a better state, he would have protested but he still felt worse than garbage and it didn't seem to be improving.

If Rin was surprised by Illya taking control she didn't show it. "That's fine. While we are supposed to be working together, we will be enemies at one point so keeping your distance is to be expected."

Shirou opened his mouth to speak. "We don't have to-" Without any reasonable cause, a flash of immediate heat coursed through his entire body. It was as if every circuit in his body had turned on to fill output in the same instance. The pain silenced him mid-thought and allowed Illya to reply.

"I'm glad you see things the way I do, Rin. As heads of our own respective magus families, it's expected for us to discuss things so civilly." Shirou had to remind himself that Illya had two sides. One, the joyous girl whose maturity matched her stature and the other a royal-blood authoritarian that demanded respect and commanded attention _despite_ her size. His sister and the last prodigy of the Einzbern family in one small body.

Realizing he was playing the spectator amidst a battle of bulls, Shirou bit his tongue and tried to determine why his body had reacted the way it had. "Are you interested in forming a contract as partners within this War?"

Illya spared a glance toward Shirou. "It depends on what sort of contract and the terms within. At this moment I wouldn't throw away additional firepower to our side but what will you do when servants begin to fall?"

"It would be best if we broke the contract after two servant deaths."

"That's acceptable."

Illya narrowed her eyes suddenly. "We agree that our servants will not attempt to harm either master or servant lest the contract be broken early?" Rin nodded. "You mentioned earlier that your servant is Archer, is he able to provide pinpoint support for Saber and Lancer from a distance?"

"Of course, the Archer class is made up of archers after all." Despite how stupid she sounded, Rin claimed the fact with absolute sincerity.

"Speaking of, none of us have even seen your servant. Are they scared of Lancer and Saber?"

Rin actually grew uncomfortable. "An Archer, like Assassin, works best from the shadows; or so Archer says."

Illya furrowed her face. "Sounds like something Kiritsugu or Missy would say to avoid talking to people."

The Tohsaka shrugged passively. "You never told me exactly what happened out there at the castle. Not only would it help me understand the War, but I could also help with more information."

Illya took a minute to explain what happened at the Einzbern castle. She omitted details but the overall picture remained the same. She explained what led up to her lack of consciousness and even relayed information about events while she was asleep that she had gathered from Lancer. Strangely enough, Rin seemed entirely unsurprised that Luvia and Rider had shown up but reacted visibly at the mention of Berserker. "I don't know why Shirou was acting that way, but he seems fine now," she finalized.

Rin hummed thoughtfully, looking at Shirou for the first time since Illya began speaking. "Do you remember anything specifically? Why did you act the way you did?"

Casting a quick confirmation glance at Illya, Shirou cleared his throat and explained his point of view. "The old man and I were planning on ambushing Rider and Luvia but it didn't work as planned. Rider did something to me," he paused, trying to focus on the hazy golden imagery and fragrant scents of his memories. "I don't remember what it was," he finished. There was a chance the old man would have known. He had been in the room at the same time so he had witnessed it all.

"Rider did something and it controlled you somehow?" He nodded, Rin hummed. "How did you break out of her spell?"

"By doing something stupid," Illya murmured.

Knowing she was right, Shirou made a soft huff and explained the excessive overuse of his reality marble. He shortened it rapidly as his throat started to parch and ended with, "I guess after reaching a point I purged whatever it was from my system." He shrugged, having only a sketchy guess at what actually happened. "I know that I wouldn't want to have it happen again."

"For now we can assume Rider has some sort of mind-controlling noble phantasm. We can hope that it doesn't work on servants but let's not try to test it."

Illya was quick to interject. "Wouldn't something like that be suited toward a Caster"

Rin fired back just as quickly. "Are you certain that Luvia has a Rider class servant?"

The homunculus nodded fervently. "We've seen every servant except Assassin."

Rin seemed marginally surprised that the fact but continued regardless. "I've seen Assassin and the name matches. In fact, we were just attacked by them a few hours ago. Thankfully, Saber and Archer were able to force them back without issue."

Shirou went to his mental link, figuring that it was better to gather information at the least while he was otherwise useless. _"What sort of servant is Assassin?"_ He asked without any sort of greeting.

A response came quickly as if she had been waiting for him to ask. _"They are as their name claims them to be. A servant of black that uses deception, darkness and trickery to achieve victory. Oddly, they inhabit multiple bodies so their description varies constantly. While we cannot expect when they will next attack, we can expect the method to be from the shadows."_

The image of a stereotypical Assassin was his father, so all the comparisons of a servant to their class name weren't helping. Then again, was he expecting a full description of each copy of Assassin? His father's notebook had detailed Assassin from the Fourth War which brought up strange similarities. Kirei Kotimine had died long ago, however, so the chance of the servant actually being the same was slim. How many servants with multiple copies of itself did the Grail War have?

Saber's voice stripped him from his thoughts. _"It is good to see you awake again, Master. I ask that you please do not overdo yourself again, but I assume that request falls upon deaf ears."_ Her concern pricked him as if it were sharpened. In the middle of assuring himself that he would do whatever was necessary to protect the ones around them, he stopped short and questioned if he really would become a living statue of swords.

If he reached that point, would he die? Would his consciousness flicker away like a dying flame or would he be trapped in an unmoving, unfeeling body rusting away for centuries? Death did little to unnerve him but being trapped in his own personal hell certainly did. _"I'll try,"_ he lied, focusing on Rin who was staring at him expectedly. Asking for her to repeat what she said, the girl produced an annoyed huff.

"How are you feeling? You were in worse shape than Illya so I'm not surprised that you're out of it."

Shirou looked down at himself, struggling to do even that. "I'm alive, just sore I guess."

Rin blinked twice. "You idiot! You think that all that's wrong with you is a little soreness?" The sudden outburst incited a painful flinch from the boy. "I don't know how you managed to stay conscious for so long but you were totally drained of mana when you are walked in here. All that soreness is from your body consuming itself to try and fuel whatever magecraft you were trying to use."

Examining his own cool, pale hand let him see Rin's cause for concern. He was barely mobile and just about as conscious and it had all been because of Rider. Had she not abused his body for her own goals, his condition would have been far better, though it was also possible that Lancer would not be alive were he not there to save him from Berserker. "It wasn't really my intention-"

"When has Shirou _ever_ realized he's pushing himself too far?" Illya asked, giving the boy a chiding glare. "How many times have I had to haul you back to bed after you push yourself too far training in the shed?"

Shirou didn't think he could count every time but it was certainly on the order of several dozens. Growing uncomfortable as it felt as if everyone was prying on his every wrongdoing, Shirou shuffled painfully in his seat. "Why did things suddenly become about me? Don't you two have magus business to discuss or something?"

Rin looked as if he had grown an extra limb. "Have you not been listening to us? You _are_ our business because you're the most valuable asset we have."

"Huh?"

Illya's hand audibly collided with her face. "Sometimes you catch the tiniest things and other times you miss it when slaps you right in the face."

Rin sighed. "Well it doesn't really matter, you hardly missed much and what you did miss I can fill you in on later once we're alone." Shirou narrowed his eyes. He wasn't aware that they had something to talk about but the tone in Rin's voice made it sound as if it were something obvious.

He had the feeling that what Rin had in mind wasn't going to be a topic he would enjoy. In fact, there was an odd sense of dread in the back of his mind, but he couldn't decide whether it was from her or something else.

… … …

… … …

… … …

A pair of slender hands gently laid a book upon the coffee table. "Have you heard from Lectra since she left, Flat?" One hand smoothly moved up to adjust a set of square-frame glasses and tuck a strand of long raven hair behind his ear.

The boy shook his head, donning a sad expression. "Nothing at all. It's been a few days but she still hasn't called."

The man hummed thoughtfully. "She must be busy," he passed off, settling into a chair and watching as Flat opened the book he had brought.

"I guess," the boy huffed miserably. As if to express his disappointment, he began reading with half his body laid across the table and one elbow planted to support his face. "I'm just-"

"Worried," Waver finished. Flat wasn't the type of boy to admit something himself let alone say it outright so filling in on his behalf sped the conversation up.

Flat appeared offended or shocked before deflating entirely and accepting the comment. "I mean, it's not like she's a trained warrior. Sure she's been Luvia's apprentice and fought in the Tournament with Blade but that's not really enough, is it?" Beaming up at him hoping for reassurance, Waver struggled to choose how to handle the situation.

He knew they were walking into the Fifth Holy Grail War but there was nothing he could do or say to stop them. He wasn't supposed to know, but an enforcer had given him the inside scoop. Luvia and Lectra had walked into one of the most dangerous places possible on Earth and to make matters worse, they were attempting to go after someone who had a high chance of being a master.

But maybe, just maybe, their arrival in Fuyuki was destined. "Luvia comes from a magus family known for creating top-quality mercenaries. The entire Edelfelt lineage has been called _hyenas_ due to their enthusiastic expression during combat." Flat's eyes opened wide and he became encapsulated with the description. "I'm certain she can make up for any shortfalls Lectra might have. If anything, she should welcome the assistance."

While it hadn't been exactly what he believed, it had been reassuring enough to bring a smile back to Flat's face. "She's in good hands then, yeah? I should probably stop worrying about it, she'll be fine." With a self-assuring nod, the boy started reading from the book, studying with the same interest one might have watched paint dry.

Rolling his eyes over the brief drama of teenage love, Waver let out a relaxed breath and reached into his coat for a rounded steel cylinder. Within both hands, he carefully loosened and removed the top half to reveal a partly smoked cigar.

Plucking it from the container, the man deposited it between his lips and fished within the same pocket for a lighter. As his fingers wrapped around it, the door was violently flung open and a passive looking Reines snapped her gaze into him.

Based only on the look in her eye and the spontaneous entrance, something had gone wrong. It was even more obvious when she lifted a single hand to point toward the door of his office.

Sighing miserably, Waver carefully put his cigar back into the cylinder and returned it to his coat. He just couldn't have a minute to relax, could he? Making the act of standing seem much more laborious than it was, the man followed the shorter Archisorte into his office. Closing the door behind himself as he entered, the girl slapped a letter on his desk and instructed with a single word for him to "read."

He had tried to gather extra information from her in other similar situations and had learned first hand that she was resolute in her methods of delivering information. Collecting the letter and withdrawing the contents, he skimmed through.

It was from Luvia and featured her family's magic insignia as a token of verification. As expected from a mercenary, the letter was clipped and concise and it detailed only two things in single sentences: They were a master in the Fifth Holy Grail War and the magus known as "Blade" was supposedly alive.

Looking up from the paper, the man folded it without looking and waited for Reines to speak. "What do you know of this?"

Waver held back a recoil of the head. "This is all news to me, why am I suspect?"

"Because you were the one who brought him into the Clock Tower." Far from usual, there was not a drop of compassion in her voice. She had become a royal Archisorte through and through. "If he had died, I wouldn't care but since there is a chance Blade is still alive, it has become your problem. Faking a death within Magus territory raises eyebrows, especially mine, and why might that be, big brother?"

Waver clenched his hands tight at his sides. "Faking his death means he has something to hide."

"Precisely, and a magus that has something to hide is a very dangerous magus indeed."

When the Magus Killer first approached him, Waver knew nothing good would ever come of it. He knew dealing with a man wanted by every magus in the Clock Tower was stupid, but when he more or less owed his life to that very same man, could he really decline such a seemingly harmless request? "Have you gone to the Observatory?"

"Nothing, but that doesn't mean he's not _about_ to do something."

If Shirou's name wasn't in the Carillon Observatory, he hadn't been labelled a sealing designate which was a weight off his mind. It was typical for even friends of friends of fresh sealing designates to receive at least _some_ backblast. "So you want to fly to a foreign country in search of a man that may or may not be dead so that you can kill him before he becomes a possible designate in the future?"

The girl nodded.

"Why not just wait until he becomes a designate and allow the Enforcers to handle it? I'm the one who admitted him and I'm far from concerned with matters of status for any backlash to affect me."

Reines shook her head softly. "Because you essentially operate under _me_ , to allow such an event would mean I lack control and would deface _me_ within the Tower."

Waver wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself short. Just like the man he replaced, all magi in the tower were focused on prestige and familial status. Heaven forbid they did something that could have been construed as wrong amidst their pompous, noble peers. "Should I pack my bags?"

Reines narrowed her eyes menacingly. "It won't be necessary. I'll investigate and determine whether he poses a threat. If not, it would be good to recover a thought-lost plaything. I've been looking for one ever since his alleged passing."

"And what if he refuses?"

Reines gently extended one hand and a liquid rapidly oozed out of her fur-collared wrist onto the floor. Within a second, the full shape of her maid, Trimmau, came into view looking as it always did. "There are a few things Trim and I have been experimenting on that we have been looking to test out in the field."

Waver set his jaw, understanding there was nothing he could say to change Reines' mind. If he had been able to accompany her, he might have been able to direct her path away from Shirou and Kiritsugu, but it was entirely out of his hands. "If you had this all planned out, why did you come to me at all?"

The girl raised a hand with two fingers raised. Waver felt a chill run up his back. When Reines requested something from him directly, it was always something foul. "Two things, I wanted to let you know so that you could notify anyone who might be looking for me, and I need your permission to bring Gray along for the journey."

* * *

 **You didn't really think that all those chapters ago was really the last you would ever see of the sadistic Reines, did you? With the odds stacked against them, everyone is prepared to pull out all the stops - Luvia not excluded.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Maybe with the notification of a new posting, Talndir will come back and beta the next one and I can get it out to y'all within a reasonable time. Midterms are also over for me so I'll be able to get some writing down and keep ahead while I can.**

 **As always, remember to favourite, follow and leave a review!**


	29. Peering Through the Mirror

**Howdy all. Talndir is still AWOL but I had this and figured you might want some reading material for the quarantine. Hope you're doing fine, I'm alright for now but online class sucks ass.**

 **Thank you all for the very kind reviews. I appreciate them all very much and hope those who did leave something behind know they bring a smile to my face. I've got halfway through chapter 30 but I've got VR and since I'm home I can play games now so I wouldn't expect stuff very soon lol. Anyway, stay safe out there and enjoy this next chapter.**

 **(Sorry for the odd notification earlier! I realized I posted the chapter without any author notes so I had to fix that!)**

* * *

Gray fiddled with the thick black hood of her coat, tugging it down so it could better conceal her face. It wasn't as if there were many onlookers in the backseat of the small limousine but Reines had a way of making her feel insecure simply by existing. Whether it was intentional or otherwise she wasn't about to ask either.

Travelling might have been on her list of desires but certainly not with a woman even Lord El-Melloi the Second was frightened of. To make matters worse, this sort of travelling had a job associated with it; locate a magus formerly thought dead. It had been the simple explanation first given to her, but when it was revealed that the magus in question was Blade she had nearly slipped up and spilled everything.

Having to lie to the face of a woman who practically owned her mentor sounded easy in her mind but it had been one of the hardest tasks she had yet to face in reality.

"You appear uncomfortable, Gray." The voice of Reines disturbing her thoughts almost made her jump out of the seat. It was as if she had been nodding off into sleep and her brain had jolted her body awake.

Lifting her head enough to catch the bottom of Reines' eyes, Gray took note of the mischievous smile on her angular face. "No, I'm fine. I just get anxious when flying." Yet another lie, but she had to excuse her appearance without admitting that Reines' entire aura unsettled her greatly.

The Archisortie was a woman who could make the skin of bugs crawl. Children that saw her were likely to say they witnessed the boogeyman in the flesh with her unsettling stare that peered too deep. She had no idea how Blade could handle being around such a woman, but there were many other things she couldn't understand about him as well. "It won't be that bad, trust me. Typically, you and my brother fly with the normal humans but today we'll be using my personal jet."

' _The normal humans,'_ how such a small word could make a woman seem so pretentious was astounding. Did all magi beyond her mentor really consider themselves vastly superior to _normal humans?_ "You spare no expense," was all she responded with.

Reines giggled and sent a crawling shiver up her arms. "Of course not. What is the point in acquiring these things if not to use them? Besides, you and I have never had any personal girl time alone. This will be a special occasion."

The tone in the girl's voice was ominous and foreboding. It sent red flags up in her mind but she was helpless to do anything to distance herself. "How long is the flight to Japan again?"

If Gray listened hard enough she could have sworn to have heard the crackling of porcelain as Reines' smile split wider yet. "Only nine hours. We should arrive sometime tomorrow morning in Japan's time." The girl crossed her legs and laid both hands on her knees. "I had no idea you were anxious during flights. I'll be sure to keep nice and close so that you feel better."

Gray lowered her head. Nine hours in close proximity to such a woman had to be a violation of the Geneva convention, there was no feasible way it could be ethically sound. "I appreciate it," she mumbled, but her mind was dreading every incoming moment.

Turning her head, the girl peered out the window to watch the scenery outside race by at highway speed. She could talk to someone else, but Reines wasn't supposed to know she had brought him along. Gray couldn't help but feel that reporting the discovery back to her mentor was the least she could do. He had specifically told her _not_ to bring Add along, but on an assignment like this, leaving him behind would be foolish.

She just had to make sure that Shirou didn't see him.

… … …

… … …

… … …

With glowing red eyes holding nothing but heartless contempt, the servant carelessly lobbed a prepackaged sandwich and a bottle of water at her feet. Flinching as the bottle bounced off the ground onto her legs, the girl hatefully glared between her captor and the provided nourishment.

"What's the point? If I starve myself to death you'll have to go through the inconvenience of killing another servant and forcing their master to join you."

The man wordlessly leered down at her and she could have sworn the glowing red of his mask's lenses intensified. "Whether you live or die does little to slow my plans. Consider working with me and I will consider sparing the members of your supposed false family."

Caren hesitated. Could she trust the word of a man who had time and time again disobeyed her in search of blood? "What sort of guarantee do I have?"

Berserker remained motionless, a rigid force unyielding to her attempts at persuasion. "I have nothing to offer beyond my word. You'll have to accept that or sit here and rot."

Caren weighed her options. If she worked with her servant, perhaps he would keep his word about sparing Shirou. That, and she could move freely rather than being chained to the Church like a wild animal. Pausing, the girl looked down at her bloodied hands and body. The rough chain had rubbed the skin beyond raw and each motion against the steel caused more and more pain. It was bound to leave permanent scarring in her neck, but sitting idly by was almost worse. "What are your conditions," she murmured hollowly, grasping at her own raw digits and squeezing both hands against her chest.

The servant kneeled slowly. "Consume your food, remain my master and stay safe within the Church. I will eliminate the other masters and servants spare one and then we will hold victory over the Grail War. You can claim your wish at that point."

It sounded good, too good to be true. A servant that would not yield to three command seals suddenly negotiating? It seemed too easy, people didn't just change so sporadically. Was her worth as his master really that great or was she just difficult to replace? Something about the deal was benefitting him though he wasn't making it apparent. "I don't believe you."

The servant huffed and a cloud of steam billowed from around the edges of his mask. "Then so be it: You will rot here and your family will die by my hand." The man abruptly stood, shocking Caren with the flip of emotions.

"N-no wait!" She cried, stunned once more as he obeyed and remained stationary. "Please, don't leave me chained up like this. I'll do what you want, just please-"

The servant yielded none to her pleading voice and eyes, but he did kneel in place again to stare closer to her level. "Are we in agreement? In exchange for keeping yourself alive, I will spare the master of Saber."

She wanted to, but couldn't, ask why he had a sudden change of heart. Another opportunity of him being so gracious wasn't bound to arrive anytime soon. Her best chance at freedom was to accept the ultimatum, but would he really keep Shirou safe?

"I accept."

… … …

… … …

Watching Illya assist Shirou with standing, Rin had to admit that the boy had improved remarkably in a few short hours. Where he had been unable to move without help while sitting on the couch, he was operating on his own limited capacity now. It came as no surprise considering he had overused his reality marble so much. She couldn't help but wonder what the extended use of an incomplete process could do, but he seemed mostly the same.

Maybe his eyes and expressions were a little colder, but they weren't on the level of Archer so perhaps it was just fatigue?

Illya's struggle with handling Shirou's larger size and weight was almost comical to watch. A soft flash of blue gave way to thin strings that quickly coiled around his body to operate him like a marionette, much to the boy's chagrin.

It felt nice. It was like the times before the War when they had all lived around one another as friends, as extended family really. Rin still didn't know how she felt about the looming threat that she would have to fight Shirou at some later point in order to achieve her wish.

 _"I have no desire to work alongside Shirou Emiya."_

Rin rolled her eyes. _"Then think of it like you're working with Saber and Lancer, you can handle those two right?"_

The two servants in question watched their masters from the side of the room, commenting in soft whispers to one another with amused expressions.

 _"It is beside the point. If you continue to work with this inferior master, I'll have no choice but to take advantage of his wounded state."_

Rin felt a glimmer of panic course through her mind. Archer typically did things without even telling her so he had obviously prepared much more if he was telling her all that. _"Hey just wait a minute!"_ She had a low-blow, but perhaps it would be enough to dissuade her servant. _"What do you think Illya will say if you kill her brother? Are you prepared to deal with that pain?"_

There was a pause and for a moment Rin wondered if she had gotten through to him. _"She will be thankful for the removal of such a foolish ideal."_

 _"You can't honestly be serious, I would have thought you to know your own sister better than that."_

 _"We aren't sisters."_ The response was so sudden and jagged that it admitted caught Rin off guard. _"The only relationship we share is with a common father figure, one who abandoned us at an early age with crushing dreams and unattainable aspirations. At the very least, I can challenge this Shirou's conviction and deem whether he is different enough to break the cycle."_

Rin felt a draw on her mana reserves and a wash of fear came over her. Thinking quickly, the girl threw caution to the wind and hurriedly moved to wrap one arm around Shirou's waist to support him. She chided Illya for operating him like a puppet and after dispelling Engel Note the boy's full weight nearly brought her to the floor.

An angry growl reached her mind, just as she had expected. _"What are you doing? Rin, move out of the way!"_

 _"I've made a contract with the current head of the Einzbern family. I'm not going to allow such a tarnishing betrayal strain the growing relationship between our families."_

The servant made an audible noise with his mouth and the draw on her mana faded. _"Continuing to prolong the inevitable. Eventually, you'll have to face facts."_

The weight of Shirou on her body unexpectedly eased and looking across to his other side displayed Saber taking over with supporting the injured boy. "Are we recovering or acting tonight?" She asked, to which Shirou gave a nondescript answer.

"I don't really know. It depends on what Rin wants to do and how I feel by nightfall." Staying under his arm as minor support, Rin helped in escorting Shirou to the dining room where Archer was supposed to have made breakfast. One thing that persisted from servant Shirou to real Shirou was the love of quality cooking.

After breakfast, they could all collectively go over their plan of action and rest for whatever happened to follow. Hopefully, nothing would disturb them while Shirou rested the day away. If she hadn't helped him along with Illya's help, he might not have survived. Even with her assistance, he was in rough condition and a little relaxation would do him good.

… … …

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night. It wasn't my intention, I lost consciousness involuntarily."

The crackling voice of Shirou's father returned to him. "What's happened has happened. We've organized a new base to operate from, somewhere nobody would think to look. I'll assume you're in no condition to return to the house?"

Shirou raised a free hand to his forehead "Unfortunately-"

"Then we will come the following morning. We need to get Illya away from Fuyuki before a servant dies and is absorbed. Missy will be there at eight sharp, make sure to let Illya know."

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but a soft tone notified him that the call had been disconnected. Lowering the phone with a frustrated noise, Shirou placed it upon the nearby night table. That phone call had been unnaturally short and to the point. His father typically wasn't so brash but with what was going on it hardly came as a surprise.

The Magus Killer had returned and it looked as if he wasn't going to leave until the War was over. Sighing to himself, Shirou scanned his room for something to do. Illya had decided to sleep in her own room rather than with him. For once, he actually would have preferred her to sleep in his bed. A conversation might have pulled his mind from the old man.

Kiritsugu, and his reality marble. He couldn't help but grow paranoid over his magecraft. Something within him had changed during that battle with Berserker. He knew it was an effect of overusing his reality marble but wasn't entirely certain what the total effects were. The memories were still hazy as well, making any effort at reflecting futile.

He definitely remembered considering an injury to Illya as acceptable though, and that was more than enough to scare him.

As long as he had lived, there had never been a time where he had determined any effect against Illya as acceptable. No injury, no matter how small, was worth something else.

So why had that changed in the Einzbern castle against Rider? Illya had been in danger, certainly, but the risk of inadvertently killing her himself to save her from another was idiotic.

Placing a palm upon his forehead, Shirou struggled to remember. What had happened to him? What had his reality marble done? Would its effects be greater the next time he tried to use it? His reality marble altered damaged flesh into blades, it rewrote bone into solid steel, but could it really overwrite his personality? Did it somehow affect the brain?

Analyzing the blurred memories of that night, he tried to piece together the broken fragments he could recall. He remembered an injury to his skull, had that caused some sort of brain injury?

If it had, had something else beyond the thoughts in that moment changed? Maybe his personality had been altered somehow. Those around him who knew his personality perfectly had admitted to seeing some recent change. It was a thought he didn't want to linger on, and he wouldn't vocalize it to anyone if only to keep them from worrying about him.

All the thoughts were starting to give him a headache, he needed something to distract himself. The inside of Shirou's room was dark inside but he preferred it that way. Using electricity when he could just let his eyes adapt to the darkness seemed needlessly wasteful. His eyes landed on an ornate wooden chest seated upon a small table. It's existence and placement within the room was jarring. Being a short step away from the foot of the bed without any other piece to compliment it. Pushing himself from the cushioned mattress with some moderate effort, the boy carefully stepped over to crack the container open.

Inside was a collection of various pieces of jewelry. Rings, bracelets, pendants, brooches and earrings made in various precious metals without any sort of order or definite grouping. None held any significant value. While expensive in a monetary sense, there was no magical attribute to any, even from the ones that held large gemstones.

Something did catch his eye though. It was a small silver necklace with a miniature figurine in the design of a sword. It was delicate and not entirely his taste but the intricacy was alluring and familiar.

Searching his memories for where he might have seen such a thing before, images of the countless sword-shaped gems he had crafted for Rin skittered through his mind. Had she gone through the trouble of getting something like that made into jewelry? For what reason?

Setting the keepsake back in its place, the boy gently shut the box and scanned the room for potential onlookers. His eyes stopped at the window, catching a glimpse of moonlight on the otherwise dark windowsill.

He hadn't kept up to date on the lunar cycle recently so he didn't know whether it was a full moon or something in-between. It certainly didn't seem bright enough to be full but maybe the easiest way to certify either way was to go outside and look. The breath of fresh air might have also been enough to clear his mind. He had intended to get some sleep, so he only wore sweatpants. Still, he was used to the night's chill from spending so much time in the stone shed and he would only be outside for a moment. Not bothering to grab a coat, the boy hauled himself out of his room, down the stairs toward a reading room that held a door to the backyard. Having stayed at the Tohsaka manor before he had grown quite familiar with the layout so navigating was trivial.

The backyard of the Tohsaka manor was far more pleasing than the interior. Even with parts of the foliage destroyed, it lacked the oppressive, extravagant furnishing and was far more natural and pure. If he looked past the naturally aggressive bounded field, that was.

Staring up at the night sky like a child full of wanderlust, the boy tried to locate the moon. Determining it was behind the Tohsaka manor, Shirou stumbled further into the backyard until the moon peeked out from above the roof of the manor.

A half-moon, but quite bright regardless. Gazing up at it fondly, Shirou squinted his eyes and started naming off the visible craters. It was tranquil to gaze upon something so natural but so permanent in the night sky. How many people before him had watched the subtle, lasting changes to its surface and wondered how it would shift in the future?

When he was younger, Kiritsugu used to often sit at the edge of their backyard and peer up at the moon with such a wistful expression. Sipping his tea, he used to smile wide, close his eyes and say the same corny line no matter what it looked like:

"It really is a nice moon tonight."

Shirou snapped his attention to the strange but familiar voice behind him. It was a man dressed all in white, likely his height if he accounted for the slight difference the hood concealing his face added. A visual trace revealed that his attire was made up of mana, was it a servant? The boy prepared himself, keeping his eyes locked on the man's limbs, he watched for any sudden movements. How did he know that phrase? How had he said it in the exact same way that Kiritsugu would have? Narrowing his eyes, Shirou hypothesized a thousand questions he could have asked. "Are you Archer?"

The servant chuckled emptily. "And I thought you would have asked _who_ I was, not tried to guess it right away."

Seamlessly, Shirou responded with, "someone who conceals their face isn't going to answer that sort of question. The only servant I haven't seen besides Archer is Assassin and since you revealed yourself and didn't kill me right away, it was a process of elimination."

The servant crossed their arms, lifting the white cloak concealing their form to reveal something crimson and black at the bottom of their legs. "Smarter than I expected."

"Sorry I exceed your expectations," Shirou grimaced, furrowing his brow as he tried to get a read on the stranger. He had met cold people in his life and typically he would respond in a much warmer fashion, but something was off about this person or servant, whichever they might have been.

"Allegedly you exceed them all but so far I've been thoroughly disappointed."

Shirou shuffled to find a comfortable stance in his injured state. "I haven't even been here for a whole day. Sounds like you've been watching me for a few days."

"Rin has been watching my every move for some time so I've been unable to spectate as much as I would like. With you so close and her asleep, there's no need to hide anymore." Something about the servant's voice was familiar but Shirou couldn't quite place where that familiarity originated.

He had to address a question that had gnawed at him since it happened. "The first time you saw me you tried to kill me, want to try and explain that?"

The servant made another odd noise. "Perhaps it's better to show you." On command, the white cloak dematerialized into blue sparks which quickly blew away into the soft night's breeze. Attire was revealed first. Bright crimson, vacant black and brushed steel. His face came next and the sight brought forth a sickening sensation to his stomach. A pained visual trace confirmed his eyes.

It was impossible. It was all a mistake or a dream. Nightmares weren't uncommon to him, that's what it had to have been.

As the cloak fully disappeared and his face was revealed, reality settled in. It was no dream.

Shirou's brain struggled to form an answer. Such a thing was impossible, wasn't it? "You're _me?_ " The servant narrowed his eyes but nodded slowly regardless. "How-"

Before he could finish, Archer launched into an explanation. "Your hypocritical aspirations and an unattainable dream. You became a machine concerned only with saving as many lives as possible. There was no chance that your friends could keep up, so you threw them away along with your life to devote your entire being to your conceited cause." The servant's face grew angrier and more spiteful with each confusing sentence. "Once your life was cut short, you gave away your afterlife as well."

Dread settled in Shirou's stomach. Servants never admitted themselves into the Throne. They were unwittingly placed there for their great deeds in life. Only one specific sort of being actively _chose_ to become a spirit. The words tumbled out of his mouth. "A counter guardian."

"The worst mistake possible. You thought it would help you in your pursuit to save more lives and make everyone happy; that it would allow you to save people long after your death. In a way, it had. You were able to become the Hero of Justice you always sought out to be, but you never once witnessed the faces of those whose lives you had saved. Only ordered to kill, you slaughtered hundreds, thousands. You never once looked back, but instead, the notion that your murders were saving someone drove you forward."

The servant grew increasingly venomous and it was clear his anger grew by the moment. There was so much information to handle and it brought on a sharp headache. Rin's servant was a future version of himself? Had she known all along? Why would he ever agree to become a counter guardian? Why would the servant try to kill the younger version of himself? Was it spite? Perhaps it was out of anger over his own past mistakes.

The complex, innumerable questions, the implications and the thought of being condemned to kill endlessly without ever seeing the ones he saved were horrifying. It was only the subtle inaccuracies and doubts that kept him from breaking down completely. "But I-"

"Always meet the same fate. Chasing ideals and dreams that are not your own but are too inspiring to forfeit." The boy shook his head, softly at first. "Being given the burdens of a man you thought to be your saviour, he only doomed you to repeated failure."

"You're wrong," he murmured.

"Unable to live with the guilt of surviving, there was only one way to repay the loss of all those lives on that day: Become a Hero of Justice, it was the only thing you could hold onto to form an identity." The servant threw out his arms as if gesturing to himself. "This is the outcome of the path you will ultimately choose. The pitiful remains of a man who sought to save everyone while he couldn't save himself. Witness the blood of a thousand innocent lives and the man who will continue to slaughter for all eternity. Look into this mirror."

Shirou shook his head indignantly. He was wrong, he wasn't anything like that, was he?

"Your only ambition was to chase a hopeless ideal forfeited upon you. You succeeded, but that ideal was all you would ever save." Archer continued speaking, but the words became a blur of disjointed history, condescending insults and philosophical paradoxes. Trying to follow his reasoning only exacerbated his headache.

"Enough!" Shirou barked abruptly, silencing the servant. Huffing an angry breath, the boy gripped at his chest. "You're wrong," he repeated with more emotion. "I'm not interested in becoming a Hero of Justice," the boy admitted. He had said it aloud to himself but to hear his voice speak with such conviction on the matter was almost relieving.

Archer himself was taken aback. "You _what?_ "

"I have no interest in becoming a Hero of Justice," Shirou affirmed. He paused, deliberating on what he truly wanted in life.

Archer's gaze tightened to accusing slits. "To become a Hero of Justice is the wish of all Shirou Emiya's. It is the single absolute identifier we share."

There was trepidation in his thoughts. He had killed, he would kill readily to protect those close to him. He would put his life and everything within it on the line for their sake. He had regrets, he lacked confidence in himself that he could make the right decisions and there was paranoia that he would slip and injure someone close like he almost had last night. Simultaneously, he had no desire at all to become a Hero of Justice and nobody had ever forced an ideal like that upon him. "If that's the case, I'm not like any other Shirou Emiya."

Archer made an ignorant tsk while continuing to glare. The servant's eyes analyzed the boy for some time as if searching for an answer that wasn't there. "You are all the same. We were found amidst the Great Fire of Fuyuki by Kiritsugu Emiya. To save our life he gifted us the sheath of Avalon. He told us of his dreams but refused to teach us magecraft-"

"You're wrong again," Shirou interrupted, growing more confident as the inaccuracies separated them further and further. "Kiritsugu taught Illya and I magecraft willingly. With Rin, we learned together."

Archer's eye twitched. "He forced his ideals upon you."

Shirou shook his head again. "If that ideal was to be a Hero of Justice, Kiritsugu taught me that such an unattainable goal was hopeless." Archer's eyes widened. The reaction emboldened the boy. They were different, the path that led to each of their existences had differed from the start.

Archer appeared visibly conflicted. His jaw clenched and his eyes pried for an answer that wasn't there. "Such an existence is impossible. To think a Shirou Emiya would have renounced their most engrained ideal is preposterous!"

They were the same person, it was obvious. Staring at Archer was like staring into a colder mirror. At the same time, they were polar opposites. Archer was a man filled with regret and hatred for a decision _he_ himself had made earlier in his life. A decision Shirou would never make himself simply because he didn't believe in it.

Their interaction was growing heated and Shirou knew what sort of outcome lied around the corner. Archer had tried to kill him at their first meeting before Rin could hold him back and he was here now to finish the job. He would have to be blind to miss it.

A gun fired in his head but rather than the warmth of his circuits crackling to life, a sharp electric pain coursed through his back like something had shorted out upon his skin. Twitching from the aggravating pain, Shirou held back a sharp gasp. It was wrong, but it was familiar as well. He had experienced something similar back during his time at the Clock Tower. A strange man had been there to fix him then, would someone need to fix him again this time?

What if he had burnt himself out somehow? There were rumours of magi scorching their circuits from overuse and ruining their careers in magecraft but those were just rumours. Such a thing wasn't possible, was it?

Tightening his hands into fists, Shirou realized how dire the situation was. Without mana he couldn't form blades, he couldn't even reinforce his body. Even though the enemy was himself, a servant still outclassed a human and Archer was at full strength.

"There's an outlier in every variable. Each path has offsets and we're no exception." Shirou could tell based on Archer's expression and his overall body language that any attempts at convincing would end in failure. Archer was going to kill him, but what could he do? Use a command seal and summon Saber to his side? He felt that if he did, he would lose something important. This was a literal battle against himself that felt shockingly familiar.

It was deja vu, as if he had stood ahead of Archer in this exact situation dozens of times. But he remembered something about a hill and a harsh baking warmth without a sun. "I have seen every possibility, trust me when I say outliers do not exist." The man uncrossed his arms and let his hand drop to his sides. They were set partway open, something Shirou did himself to prepare for traced swords.

"Even so, stopping a mistake wherever I can is better than sitting idly by." Without saying a single word, two blades appeared in his hand and a pained visual trace sent their data straight to his brain.

Kanshou and Bakuya, blades of polar opposites but married at the same time. They were sublime quality, exceeding anything Shirou had ever seen that wasn't a noble phantasm of course. At the same time, they held no notable quality and they weren't burdened by any sort of emotion. Despite the fact that those very same swords would be used against him, Shirou found them beautiful all the same. Something about the precise craftsmanship and offsetting designs made a peacefully neutral appeal.

It was unlike the other servant's weapons. Berserker's sword, Gram, was filled with an unholy thirst for blood and victory. Excalibur also sought victory though it was as if it were being reserved for special occasions. A sword with purpose was nice, but to be so finely made without one at all was respectable to say the least.

"Even if what you're doing spilled more innocent blood?"

Archer scoffed. "Innocent blood? Don't make me laugh. I can see it in your eyes. You've already killed haven't you?" Shirou flinched before he could stop himself. Was it that obvious? "Your reaction confirms it. You already have regrets and have taken the first step into this pitiful mold."

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but nothing exited. Archer had been wrong about history, but he was spot on now. Innocence was a distant memory and every other night he was haunted by the faces of those he had killed in cold blood.

"You know as well as I do that your face - our face - is an open book. Say I do believe you, perhaps you really are different. Have you ever considered that you might be something far worse?"

The thought made Shirou pause and reflect. Archer had been mistaken at the beginning but he was making _too_ much sense now. A pain blossomed at the very front of his head before rapidly spreading throughout his entire skull. It felt as if he had remembered something but it was still too distant to comprehend completely. It was so familiar to where he was right now, but why was his body telling him to jump away?

His eyes couldn't even see the movement. Rather, a gunshot-like blast of displaced air struck his ears and flared off every instinct in his mind. His mind screamed at him through the pain to move otherwise he would undoubtedly be killed.

Unable to reinforce himself to speed up his escape, Shirou resorted to using every ounce of strength in his legs to throw himself backwards. Landing on his back upon the ground, nagging pain spawned at the point of impact and on his stomach. Peering down and touching the site, Shirou looked at his hand to see fresh blood. Would he die here to himself, wearing sweatpants without a blade in his hand?

Trailing upward toward his assailant, Shirou made note of a similar crimson dripping off the surface of the white blade, Bakuya. Progressing further to stare into an identical set of his own gray eyes, Shirou found an empty pit. There was no compassion, no mercy, no care. All Archer was concerned about was completing this one ultimate goal.

His sword raised and Shirou raised one arm to act as a defence while the other tried to mobilize his body along the cold ground. "Why even bother fighting," Archer growled. "The outcome of your life is ahead of you and yet you still deny it."

There was merit in Archer's words.

A man like him; cold, heartless and covered in innocent blood could see every flaw in someone similar. Would Shirou walk the same identical path and meet the very same fate?

He had murdered innocent people, he had regrets about those killed and he was bound to kill more. Maybe becoming Archer was just a certified point in his life.

But…

There was something more.

A hot core of anger spawned in his stomach and quickly spread throughout his body. No, he hadn't killed any innocent lives. Every death had been to keep his friends and family safe. Every person murdered had been guilty of threatening those close to him.

Shirou regretted having to kill them, but to preserve the lives of others it was necessary. He wasn't like Archer at all, they fought for different reasons, different ideals. "I'm not like you, you're still wrong." Snapping his head toward the Tohsaka manor as if someone would be there to help, Shirou spotted something useful at the edge of his vision.

"Then you'll die being ignorant to the end!" With pure violence, the servant raised his sword and prepared to make a final strike. Shirou's hand snapped out to grab onto a broken stick from destroyed foliage surrounding the area. Rearing it up to the path of the incoming weapon, Shirou forcefully created a magic circuit and fought through the resulting pain to reinforce the object in his hand. He didn't even care that the branch still held leaves and minor shoots, it just needed to deflect the attack.

Archer's blade struck reinforced leaves and wood and rather than bounce off due to dissimilar magecraft, something else happened entirely. A tingling coursed through the hand holding his pseudo-shield through his whole body and a hundred flickering images coursed through his brain.

The flood of information - while brief - was absolutely overwhelming. There was so much that his eyes had seen and trying to decompile it from the beginning doubled the pain of his headache.

The branch in his hand exploded into a thousand splinters that harmlessly scattered throughout the yard, leaving two surprised people following its destruction.

Archer's grimace grew more feral and upset. "This won't happen again!" The black sword was raised high and Archer's body prepared to put everything into a final strike. With the moonlight glinting off its surface, Shirou could see thin lines of crimson outlining the black hexagons of the weapon's surface.

Shirou couldn't help but get lost in the appearance. Memories that weren't his own flickered through his brain on repeat, details of a weapon used countless times to kill endlessly locked his body into place.

It was a beautiful sword.

… … …

… … …

"You son of a bitch!" The shout was lashed out at nobody in particular as the woman span on her heel, leaned forward and delivered a sharp kick backwards to the chest of whatever sort of creature had attacked her.

The impact didn't send the being flying though; instead, it merely exploded into a cloud of black dust that rapidly dispersed without proper form. Fluidly swinging her leg back underneath her body, the enforcer threw her fist upward with the momentum of her body to slam into the chin of another creature.

Their head separated from their shoulders but before it could collapse onto the ground their body vanished in a similar fashion to the former. How many had she already killed? How many more were swarming her like flies to a carcass?

Panning her head to scour her immediate surroundings. Countless shifting shapes caught the edges of her vision but nothing was definite. It was as if she were searching for the ripples of fish beneath a still lake. Considering she was looking for shadows in a dark room, it made sense. Connecting to her servant, the woman made a request while keeping an eye on potential attacks. Her enemy was a servant of course, but it seemed unable to withstand her most basic attacks.

A large shape ahead dominated her instincts. Rearing back, the enforcer released a sharp cross toward center mass. Her fist stopped upon impact and a moment of confusion washed over her as she investigated the point of contact.

It looked vacant and empty as if she had struck solid _nothing_. Looking upward, a pair of flaming blue orbs loomed overhead. Before Bazett could get out any sort of expletive, a hand that was much too large to be human wrapped around her arm and lifted her off the ground like a weightless doll. The enforcer was unable to even comprehend that she was flying through the air before her body collided with a wall and fell to the ground.

Forcing herself back onto her feet, the woman looked back to try locating those odd spheres of flame. Had that been the servant? Or had it been just a stronger imitation like the others she had killed? The collision with the wall had been far more annoying than painful, but as a positive, it had given her a point to defend herself from. Lifting her fists and pressing her back against the wall, Bazett considered the futility of her position. Connecting to her servant mentally, the woman narrowed her eyes and watched her near vicinity for those orbs of flame. " _Think I could get a little help?"_

" _What a demanding master I have. Finally grown scared of your own shadow?"_

" _You idiot, stop joking around."_ They had been drawn out of their home by the shadows. The two had divided to take on a greater number after realizing how weak the enemy was but it had obviously been a mistake. " _The real servant is here, look for blue fire, that's our target."_

A soft rustling noise sounded from overhead and something blue landed ahead of her. It was Caster and something and a sudden burst of heat and light spawned from the end of his wooden staff. Swinging the weapon in a large horizontal arc, a gout of flame bathed the area and persisted on the concrete after passing as if it were napalm.

As the light bathed every figure in the darkness, multiple howls spewed from the unseen mouths of the shadow beings. They disappeared one by one into particles just as they had after being struck by Bazett. "Guess we found their weakness."

Every shadowy form vanished in the soft light and the fire remained in their place. Bazett was about to comment on the lack of a figure with blue flame before a humanoid stepped into view. They were as large as a small house, towering over the already tall Caster by several measures. Their skin was an unnatural black and uncannily uniform as if they wore no clothes but were robed in shadow. The only point that stood out was an ivory mask imitating a half-skull. As if her eyes had been a lighter, two orbs of flame flickered to life within the eye-holes.

It was similar to the other shadowy figures she had killed but, beyond the size, its right arm was extremely different. It was disgustingly long with an extra joint to accommodate its inhuman length. Even though they were more than twenty feet away, Bazett estimated that the servant would still be able to reach at full extension.

Despite making his appearance known, the servant didn't move or speak and stood motionless despite the flames clawing at his lower body. "Guess you weren't kidding. One of those distant silent type servants that strikes from the shadows." When the servant failed to move or even speak a response, Caster shifted his weight onto one leg. "Wonder if this one is Berserker, he doesn't seem like the insane type but to stand in fire like that you'd have to be."

"The question of our sanity is misplaced," the servant spoke abruptly. "Wasting time pondering such trivial matters only accelerates your oncoming death."

Caster twirled his staff before landing its base upon the ground. "The philosophically insane then." With a tired sigh, the man his fingers along the side of his head. "Guys like you give me a real headache, probably because you're so damn hard to understand."

Bazett blinked and glared at the back of her servant's head. Why did he always waste time trying to talk to his opponent? Was there any sort of reason to try conversing when the end goal was just to kill each other?

The servant of black emitted no humour. Instead, the twisted being began extending his arm to the sound of cracking joints and straining leather. "You are a redundant variable. Your continued existence or the extrication of such contributes nothing to the overall image. You believe yourself to be an important character amidst a string of needless nobodies when in fac-"

"Fucking hell," Caster groaned unceremoniously before the other servant could finish. "My master said I spoke a lot of shit but you're really spewing it."

Like a gun, the extended arm shot forward with a grabbing motion. Bazett, even with all her experience in combat, could hardly catch the motion. When Caster snapped his staff to the side to deflect the grabbing appendage, Bazett understood just how overpowered servants really were.

The hand snapped back tight to its owner before Caster could inflict any sort of injury. "You appear surprised. We had thought you disliked senseless conversation." The servant chuckled, but rather than one single voice, a haunting rasp of a laugh echoed around the area as if they were being watched by a hundred spectators.

Something tickled the back of her neck and a quick look to her right let her spot another pair of flaming blue orbs watching her from the darkness. Moving quickly, the woman turned and pressed her back against Caster and used one arm to wrap around his waist.

Upon contact, the man jerked suddenly and twisted his head to look back at her. "I don't think right now is the best time to get hands-on!"

Bazett squinted to peer through the darkness, how many were there just waiting for them to slip up? "Shut up you pervert, we're surrounded. I don't feel like getting grabbed by one of these things."

Making note of the same pair of eyes she had seen, Caster made a noise of thought. "So this was all part of their plan. They've pushed us into a corner and surrounded us while we focused ahead." An echoing empty laugh swirled around them, confirming Caster's suspicions. Rather than appearance downtrodden, the man actually smirked with a short chuckle. "That just makes it easier to take you all down with a single attack."

With a sharp thrust of his arm, Caster pointed the head of his staff toward the first target and a bright red rune hovered just off its surface. Rather than fire off an attack, the man darted his weapon straight down toward the ground, forming an entire line of runes that grew brighter as their number increased. With the head of his staff hovering downwards, Caster made another cheeky chuckle before tapping it against the ground.

… … …

A distant rumbling rattled the windows of the Edelfelt manor, catching the attention of two women inside. "Sounds like there's a party starting without us," Lectra mumbled.

The living room was fully furnished in crunchy, recently dusted fine thread material Lectra couldn't even name. Dim candlelight illuminated most of the room but left the corners and other rooms pitch black. Personally she would have preferred electricity and running water but that was quite a lot to ask for in a manor so old and remote.

It was obvious that it had been quite royal in its time, at least the ground floor central area was. With three stories and two living quarters wings on either side of a central area that held common rooms for both to use. The furnishing had likely been quite something in its day but humidity and dust had taken its toll and rendered nearly every piece a moulding, rotting mess. The roof of one wing had caved in, meaning it was entirely unusable and unrepairable. The wing that remained was in fixable condition thankfully, which meant they had been able to stay in moderate comfort.

Even being abandoned and run down, it was _still_ far nicer than anything Lectra owned or lived in for any length of time. Tarnished and stained, the gold trim and lavish precious stone floors might have been nice in their prime but it had more character with its deterioration.

"I hadn't really intended on being in that last battle and while it hardly took any mana, I'd rather be at peak condition before fighting whatever caused that explosion." The blonde Edelfelt used one hand to throw back some of her curls while a second explosion rumbled through the floor.

The house of cards they had been working on quivered and collapsed onto itself in a mess upon the small table ahead.

Lectra pouted and slapped her hands upon her knees. "Dammit, I spent so long trying to set it up."

A chilling breeze blew through the room and the sight of bright pink caught the edge of Lectra's eye. "I guess I had the wrong idea." Without bothering to bend her legs, Rider bent over the top of the couch and playfully toyed with Luvia's hair. "I thought you were so determined on winning the War but it _seems_ like," she paused to twirl her fingers around in the curls of Luvia's hair. "You're just as scared as the other masters."

"I am not scared," the woman defied, pulling her head free of Rider's twisting fingers. "I'm just ensuring the maximum possible chance of a positive outcome."

Rider's smile grew wider as her body inched further across the couch and her hand traced upwards along the curls of Luvia's hair. Lectra had never really been _interested_ in women, but she had to admit that Rider had a very alluring figure and wasn't afraid to display it prominently. Peering down at her own baggy, concealing clothes and remembering Blade's surprise when he found out she was a woman brought conflicted emotions.

"Maybe you're just making excuses because you don't think I'm strong enough." Most of Rider's body was leaned over the couch. She was peering at Luvia's resending face with a sort of carnal enjoyment.

"I am confident in your abilities against men," the Edelfelt claimed far more stiff than usual. "But what if the next servant we see is a woman?"

Rider made a small giggle. "Some women are just as attracted to me as men, you know." Rider shifted her head to stare straight at Lectra with a predatory smile.

The girl quickly hid her face and tried not to let her cheeks reveal her embarrassment. Was she really attracted? Was Rider what men wanted in women? If that was the case, was she really enough for Flat?

Luvia grew agitated. "If you're so prepared to fight servants then where do you intend to go? Straight toward the source of those explosions?"

"Wherever I have to go to find Cú. I promised that I would make him submit to me and I'm going to see that through no matter what." The icy conviction being proclaimed behind such an innocent smile was concerning. Lectra was just thankful that she wasn't a part of Rider's obsession. "Where there are explosions, there's bound to be servants so it just happens to be the best place to look."

Luvia abruptly stood from the couch and sighed to herself. "If I say no, you'll probably just head off on your own and that's even worse." Accenting her point, Rider nodded her head and made an affirming noise. "By the time we get there, whatever was causing those explosions will probably be gone anyway."

As if whoever was causing them wanted to make Luvia look foolish, another distant explosion brought a rattle to the windows. "I don't really know how magus of your age fight but servants take a little more than two explosions to put down." Straightening into a perfect pose with one hand on her hip, Rider held out her right hand. Balanced on the center of her palm, a black riding crop appeared from nothing. An eerie crimson shrouded its exterior as it was completed and Lectra couldn't help but wonder if it were somehow cursed.

"It depends on the magus but some of us can even survive death." The subtle jab at Blade didn't go over Lectra's head, though it certainly did for Rider. "I just hope I won't have to use any more gems. I could only get so many shipped over before the start of the War."

If their last count was accurate, after using those three the other night, they had nine high-range and ten mid-range gems remaining. With that much mana, Luvia gauged that they could take down a servant if they planned it right.

A hand that was _just_ too cold slid around her neck from behind and sent a jolting shiver through her body. Seeing Luvia ahead, Lectra knew that only one person could be responsible and the sultry voice in her ear confirmed it.

"Daydreaming like that will get you killed."

… … …

Smoke rolled off the knuckles of Bazett's gloves. After Caster's first attack, things had gone straight into the proverbial creek. There was a bright explosion and the severity of their situation had been drilled into their minds. There were hundreds of figures surrounding them. Their numbers were intimidating but only a handful wore masks.

Concerned about their odds, Bazett pressed her back against Caster, adjusted her footing and asked, "how many have you taken out?"

Caster made an aggravated growl. "No clue. Every time I try to hit one they move out of the way like they were never even there. At this point, I might just be wasting mana."

Managing the enemy by staying back-to-back, Bazett had definitely had a harder time it seemed. Several hands had tried to rip her away or make direct strikes. Her punches and kicks seemed to be injuring them but it was too hard to say against an enemy she couldn't even see. "Got a plan?"

Several wooden thunks vibrated through Caster into her back and the clatter of thrown steel sounded quickly afterwards. Maybe protection from arrows wasn't such a useless skill. "I might, but using my noble phantasm is going to attract one hell of a lot of attention."

"You can cast something like that so quickly?" A shifting pair of blue eyes attracted her attention. What were those eyes doing beyond the edge of vision?

A soft etching noise was being made behind her at ground level. "I've been preparing to use it since this fight started, but it takes a good moment to complete after summoning and it's not the best for group targets."

"Better than whatever the hell we're doing now." A clawed hand from the darkness was in her sight for barely an instant. Twisting her body, the enforcer threw a straight cross to meet it head-on. Striking with a large meaty thwack, the offending appendage recoiled back into the inky darkness around them.

"You'd be surprised. It's not really _precise_."

Clenching her jaw, the enforcer pushed aside growing anger. "If you've got other options I'm more than willing to listen."

A beast-like shadow lunged at her from the darkness. Scrambling with her footing, Bazett channelled mana into the runes on her legs to increase her speed so she could deliver a spinning kick and knock the enemy away.

As her foot touched the creature, it phased away without any of the resistance she was expecting. Realizing her mistake far later than she could recover, Bazett tried to bring her foot down and return to Caster's back. She knew it was too late when a sharp hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to lock the joint in place.

She might have been able to twist out of its grasp, but another hand around her extended wrist finalized her fate. The arms tugged back on her, yanking her off her last grounded foot along the pavement and through the darkened veil that had surrounded her and Caster. It had been impossible to see through from the inside and it seemed as if there was no difference looking in from the outside either.

Her senses were being clouded out one by one. It had started with her sight in the inky darkness. Her sense of touch faded and it felt as if she were being flown through the air an incredible distance away. Even her sense of hearing was fading away. A hollow, echoing laughter swirled around her skull from every direction. Squirming and trying to break free of the servant's grasp only dug the clawed fingers through her suit. Even with the material of her suit reinforced beyond any possible limit, magically or otherwise, the servant was able to slice through so easily?

Something slashed at the side of her face, leaving behind a stinging pain upon her cheek. Using her one free arm to swing wildly and trash for escape, she was suddenly dropped only to land with extreme disorientation in senseless darkness. Finding purchase on what she could only assume was pavement below, the enforcer set her head on a swivel to try and locate potential threats.

It had been difficult to see anything before, but trying to locate anyone in wherever she had been taken to was _unnaturally_ impossible. She could have sworn something shifted behind her, but a quick jab found absolutely nothing. Snickering, sadistic laughter swirled around her skull and made her dizzy. Was the effect some sort of magecraft or was the lack of her senses getting to her?

"It's over."

A voice from directly behind incited another strike and this time her fist did contact something solid. Instead of rebounding as she would have expected, her fist was gripped by a hand that was far too large to be human. The pressure of their hand threatened to break every bone through her glove and her attempts at freeing the limb proved fruitless.

Even delivering a precise strike to her opponent's wrist did absolutely nothing but get her other hand caught. Making a strained noise of pain as her wrist was bent and squeezed at an awkward angle, Bazett looked onward to find an eerie mask staring back at her.

It was different to the other one she had seen somehow, but she couldn't quite discern _how_ beyond a simple hunch. As her eyes landed on the surface of their ivory mask, two orbs of blue flame appeared within the eye sockets, glaring back at her unflinchingly. "Your end is nigh." Bazett didn't even bother responding, choosing to narrow her eyes and struggle further against her captor. "Your struggle is in vain, forfeit your servant now to retain some of your dignity."

"Fuck you."

The servant sighed and the pressure on her hands tightened further. There was a soft popping sound as her index finger was forcibly dislocated. "No need to be crass. In a few moments, your servant will use their noble phantasm and their life will end. After that point, the query is what to do with you."

Bazett wasted no time at all. " _Caster do not use your noble phantasm. It's part of their plan!"_

"A valid attempt, however, you are unable to communicate with your servant in this place. Within the darkness, we hear, see and feel all. Each minute within this space, your sins are revealed to us, your every thought decoded for our use." Something told Bazett that he was right, those damn blue orbs burned into her very soul.

Unable to speak with Caster, unable to help herself, she was out of options. "What the hell do you want with me?"

The servant chuckled, but it was far more malicious than the others she heard. "You are an enemy, this is the War you joined. Enemies must be exterminated, especially contractors."

Bazett tried jarring her arm loose but the servant was far stronger. "If you're going to kill me get it over with you twisted piece of shit."

The servant squeezed tighter still. Two more fingers were dislocated and she could tell her wrist was about to break. "How can someone so vulgar consider themselves a lady?"

"What sort of bullshit chauvinistic garbage is that? Going to tell me how to act?" Bazett's anger got the better of her and using the servant as an anchor, she fueled mana into the legs of her suit. Dropping and using her arms to get her leg high enough, the enforcer slammed her flaming ankle into the side of their face. Surprisingly, the mask it wore failed to fly off, how was it attached?

Grunting in annoyed pain, the blackened servant recoiled and dropped her hands so he could grip at his face. "Insolent whelp, you will pay dearly for that. It will be your final mistake."

Scrambling up to her feet, Bazett gripped her fingers and set each one painfully back in place with a soft pop. "Just shut up and fight already."

Lifting her fists, Bazett focused on the ivory mask shifting in the darkness. It was her only reference point in the consuming darkness. Recovering from the blow, the servant stared directly at her and balls of flame sharpened to minuscule dots. " _Zabaniya: Infinite-urk_!"

Before the servant could finish, something slammed into them and carried the mask briskly out of sight. Blinking in confusion, the dense haze that had stripped away her senses gradually faded away, leaving her in front of one of the various industrial warehouses on the docks.

Shaking her wrist to try and rid it of the lingering pain, Bazett could have sworn she saw wooden wheel and hoof marks on the concrete. Her memory clicked at once and she connected to Caster through their link. " _Don't activate your noble phantasm, it's a trap_."

There was a bit of delay, but it was to be expected. " _I think we've got bigger problems, missy._ "

" _What's the matter?_ "

" _That old friend I told you about is back. She's helping for now, but I guarantee she'll want to kill us after._ "

Cursing, Bazett scanned her area for a landmark she could use to reference her own location. There was a large yellow shipping container crane she remembered from the start of their engagement. It was much closer and in a different direction with relation to the waterfront.

The enforcer started moving to where she believed her original location to be. " _I'll be there in a minute, I'll get rid of her master and-_ "

"Where do you think you're going, running off like that?" Spinning on her heels to face the voice that beckoned to her, two highschool-aged girls stared back at her.

" _Scratch that, they're right here._ "

The one with ridiculous hair produced a pompous smile before flashing several sparkling gemstones. The other stood in the back, raising one outstretched hand. Pools of black started to bubble around the enforcer and shapes were already crawling out of them.

Something told her it was going to be a rough night.

… … …

… … …

A shout of his name brought his attention to the manor. The cry had been shrill, panicked and downright _terrified_. The amount of emotion contained within a single word seemed to halt even Archer, who copied the boy to peer at the small figure standing outside in the cool night.

"Illya," both servant and boy murmured in unison. Shirou was able to compose himself. "Get back, Rin's servant is insane!"

Ignoring how strange it was to call _himself_ insane, the boy struggled to twist upon the ground and lift himself into his feet. Witnessing the two of them, the sheer perplexity of the entire situation struck her full force.

"You're a servant?" Unable to hear from the distance, he had to read her lips to understand the words.

Archer neglected to respond but based on his expression, guilt had claimed the use of his voice. Managing to get back up on his feet, Shirou watched as Archer dematerialized his weapons and took a step toward Illya. "I'm sorry you had to see this," he claimed. What sort of apology blamed the innocent party?

Feeling his blood pressure rise considerably, Shirou barked out a demand for Archer to leave her out of the picture. The man shot a scathing glare his way, but Shirou levelled one equally as intense. "If you harm a single hair in her I swear I'll," he trailed off. So many thoughts swirled around his head about precisely what he would do were Illya to get hurt that he couldn't decide to speak a single one. At the same time, if he ended up killing Archer, she would absorb his soul and that would hurt her far more than any physical injury. What sort of twisted dilemma had he gotten himself into?

Reeling back to the matter at hand, Shirou told Illya in the lightest voice he could manage to "go back inside."

The girl shook her head defiantly. "I won't, I won't leave you out here to fight on your own."

Archer made a harsh tsk with his mouth while Shirou gaped in shock. "But you could-"

"You aren't the only one who cares about others!" Illya shouted abruptly, glaring at him with stern, wet eyes. "How many times have you almost been killed trying to protect people? How many times have people had to worry about whether you were alive or dead?" Sniffling audibly, the girl wiped her face with the side of her arm. "You never think about how we would handle your death, did you always think we would be happy?"

Shirou couldn't respond. Illya's words were familiar, eerily so. Where had he heard such obvious yet overlooked facts before? Archer stared at him resentfully. "A painfully familiar verifier. Despite claiming to be different you're still the same."

"And you," Illya growled, gathering the attention of both Shirou-s. "You might look like Shirou, but I can tell you aren't anything alike." With as much resentment as a girl barely above four feet tall could muster, Illya narrowed her eyes and spat out, "you aren't my brother."

The statement actually managed to elicit a visible flinch, albeit minor, from Archer. "You may be right," he agreed with closed eyes. "I might not be your brother, but neither is he. We are both the same. The paths may differ but the end result is before your eyes."

Illya shook her head. "You're blinded by regret. Your differences are as plain as day to a magus." Shirou understood her words just about as well as Archer, which was to say he didn't. Looking at one another, it was clear that neither of the two could see what Illya claimed to have vision of. "Shirou, while you were unconscious, in order to keep you from dying, you needed to be given mana." The girl lifted her hand to her chest and soft blue light the same shade as Engel Note bloomed through her pyjamas.

A warmth spawned upon his own chest and a quick glance down confirmed a second identical symbol upon his own body. The warmth spread quickly and the pain stuck in every crevice of his body was replaced with it. Moving, thinking, even breathing came significantly easier. A gun fired within his mind and his magic circuitry ignited to life starting from the glowing symbol. "Rin transplanted my magic crest into your body so our reserves could be linked." Shirou felt the blood drain away from his face. If Illya gave him her magic crest, that meant- "You have access to all of my power just like Lancer."

As far as Shirou knew, Illya had a very special magic crest. It hadn't come from Kiritsugu or Irisviel, but it had created itself as an abnormality. _Wish-Granter_ , the old man had called it. It was the reason Illya could execute magecraft without knowing a single concept or foundational skill.

Without it, "you won't be able to use magecraft," he murmured. Had Illya really sacrificed her life as a magus in order to save him? Why would she ever do such a thing?

"What a fool you are, Rin. Why are you the only piece I can never account for?" Archer's hollow question reignited the flame of anger within Shirou. Illya had sacrificed a part of her life to save him, she had done it to stop his suffering. There was no taking it back and he could ask why later so his only option was to make use of it while he could.

"Do you not have any sort of compassion? Do you only care about yourself?" Opening his hands, blue and gold sparks formed two familiar emerald blades and they trailed upward to recreate Bazett's custom-made outfit. If he was going to fight properly, he needed fitting attire as well. With access to a near-infinite supply of mana, he could spare no expense on the cost of his projections. They were as close to perfect as Shirou could possibly make.

Archer immediately took note of the weapons and an odd expression crossed his face. "A man who speaks of compassion holding weapons he tore from still-warm hands of someone he personally killed? You have no right to speak."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, the boy readied his weapons. "If you have such a problem with my life, then you should end it right here."

Archer made a derisive noise before turning to face him fully. With a wisp of pure blue, the two married blades reappeared within his grasp. "You shouldn't be so anxious."

In the time it took for Shirou to blink, Archer was on top of him. Two blades raised, ready to cleave both arms from his body. Mana flooded Shirou's body, filling every muscle and porous space to the point of overloading.

The speed of reinforcement was beyond anything he could have accomplished on his own and the fact was that it scared him with the suddenness. Remembering he was drawing from Illya's mana supply, it became much more satisfying.

Using the unique crossguards to his advantage, Shirou deftly caught and twisted Archer's blades outwards free from harm's way. It surprised the servant greatly if his face was any indication, but Shirou was in for something much larger.

Memories of actions he had never committed streamed through his mind far faster than his brain could keep up. A tingling, as if the flesh had fallen asleep, climbed up from the hilts of each weapon and a painful stabbing headache struck behind his eyes.

 _ **I am the bone of my sword**_ **.**

Haunting words from a man who lives despite dying. A man who existed as a spectre between planes of existence.

 _ **Steel is my body and fire is my blood.**_

Those words weren't his own. They were entirely different. Beyond the literal words, their tone and meaning was nothing of his own.

 _ **I have created over a thousand blades**_ **.**

Were the pieces of his reality marble aligning? Would Archer provide the key pieces missing for a full activation? How could it work for him if the incantation was different? Would it work regardless? Something hot and dry blew upon the back of Shirou's neck and a distant clanging of forging steel drummed within his ears.

A crackle of struggling steel threw him back into reality. An enemy stood ahead, a false identity that needed to be removed. With both hands full and legs working to counter Archer's struggling arms, Shirou used the last weapon available to him, his skull.

The two rebounded from the impact, but neither seemed more damaged than the other. The weight on the boy's left sword faded with the blow but a sharp movement of crimson sent his instincts on fire. His head darted to one side to avoid a punch, but the motion upset the held blade in his other hand. Feeling Archer's weapon slip free, Shirou tried flicking it away while distancing himself. It worked somewhat, but he still received a small stinging nick upon the outside of his thigh.

Glancing down at the superfluous injury, Shirou made an angered noise and leapt back into combat.

The echoing noise of battling blades was endless. For each clang came a clash of not only swords but will and muscle as well. Shirou had battled enforcers, freelancers, magi, magical beasts and even an executioner though it was nothing compared to the battle he had entered against himself. Never before had a fight been so fast-paced, so intense for so long. Every strike he tried to land was countered and each of Archer's counters was either avoided or re-countered into an endless string of battle. Swords formed, broke and were reformed autonomously as the two threw all of their ability into murdering the other.

 _ **Unknown to death.**_

It was an absolute mirror match and neither of the two seemed able to breach the defences of the other to claim a dedicated blow. Archer would land a scratch, Shirou would pay it right back. Each contact if their weapons brought insight to memories that weren't his own. A life he had never lives burned itself into his mind and the circuitry within his body burned with an unfamiliar feeling.

 _ **Nor known to life.**_

He needed to be stronger, he had to gain an edge to defeat Archer. Only activating his incomplete reality marble would do such a thing. But after what happened the last time; was he prepared to even go that far? Something had permanently affected him in his battle against Berserker and while he wasn't entirely sure what it was, he could claim without a doubt that it was far from good.

Sparks turned to shards as a powerful overhand strike from Archer shattered both of Elizabeth's blades. Relying on his martial arts experience, Shirou tucked both arms tightly in front of his body to handle the blow of a side kick.

Skidding along the ground, another set of blades appeared in his grasp and the clatter of raging steel continued. They were one and the same. Both of them dual-wielded short swords, both of them goaded the other into attacking points they expected for easy defence and both knew exactly what the other was planning. It was a mirror match and the only way to find success was to surprise the other with something unexpected.

 _ **Have withstood pain to create many weapons**_ **.**

How many lines were left of the incantation? How many more memories did he have to endure before his mind could focus on combat? The white blade made a strong stab toward his abdomen. With quick footing and faster contortions, Shirou allowed the blade to skim past his side before making a quick slash of his own at the outstretched arm.

Trying to withdraw, Archer caught the edge of the emerald blade upon the silver medallion near his wrist. The force tore the sleeve off but did little beyond that _because_ it had torn the clothing.

Damnit, could none of his attacks break through? Was his incomplete reality marble the only way? Popping up onto his feet, Shirou readied his weapons and prepared others within his mind. Able to throw as much mana as he desired at his magecraft, everything flowed at a much faster speed. Four projectile blades were finalized and ready-to-fire in the time it would have taken to form a single.

Clashing and locking weapons with Archer, two swords spawned over Shirou's shoulders. With Archer's hands held up defending, he was unable to counter the incoming blades and was forced to dodge. Shoving himself away, the blades in his hands vanished as well.

A bow materialized in his grasp and the breath in Shirou's throat hitched. How had he not expected such an attack? He himself was more suited to ranged combat, it made sense that _Archer_ would be skilled with using a bow. There was too much distance for Shirou to close before Archer would have a bow ready. If his own skill was anything to base anything off of, he had less than a half-second from bow-completion to firing. With time so short, his options were limited, focusing on defence was his only chance.

It was expensive and had he been using his own mana he would have decided on another path, but with his timeframe, it was the only option left. Shields formed within his mind. They were antiquated museum pieces and likely weren't anywhere near the level of a noble phantasm, but they would suffice against arrows - probably.

Tower, kite and heater shields all made of metal were recalled from Shirou's mental armoury. Melding each one to an amalgamation of thickened steel, Shirou slid his foot back for support and wrapped his hand around the handle of a tower shield that didn't fully exist.

As he closed his eyes and clenched his body to receive the brunt of the incoming attack, a large metal clang echoed through the air. An uncountable number followed. As if it were sustained machine-gun fire, the blows upon his shield didn't falter for a moment and with each passing moment, the condition of his projection deteriorated by several orders. He had to do something before it broke, otherwise he would be turned to swiss cheese.

Gritting his teeth and reinforcing his body beyond safe limits, his entire body strained to lift the amalgamated mass of solid steel he had made. Every muscle in his body quivered to hoist such an extreme mass but the boy willed himself to step forward through the attack.

With each step, the intensity of the arrows increased. Dents from repeated point strikes had begun to make their way through to Shirou's visible side but there was still so much distance to cover. Continuing the slow tumultuous march onward, the shards of his battered defence were ground into the dirt beneath his feet.

 _ **Yet, those hands will never hold anything.**_

The heat of so many impacts had worked its way through the steel. It had started to burn the arm strapped to the tower shield that supported all the weight, though he was unable to complain. The smell of hot steel and _dust_ clouded Shirou's nose. If his reality marble was complete, if he could only activate it, it would _have_ to give him the edge he needed to defeat Archer, it _had_ to.

The arrows stopped abruptly and Shirou wondered if Archer had finally moved to attack directly. Before he could even look to confirm the thought, an ear-rending shriek of shredding metal echoed throughout the yard. A hot pain spawned at the edge of Shirou's stomach and a glance down revealed a gaping hole where a projectile had cut straight through.

He had been lucky enough that the arrow had only skimmed him, but if Archer had resorted to penetrating weapons, Shirou was close enough to make him worry. Dematerializing his defence, the boy equipped another pair of blades.

Rather than see Archer wielding blades, the servant still held onto his bow. "Foolish mistake," he claimed and the idiocy of Shirou's deeds struck at once. The two knew one another's tactics far better than any other opponent. In order to defeat the other, they had to consider how they themselves would think placed on the other end of the weapon but Archer had been far more efficient.

The arrow fired but Shirou couldn't even comprehend it due to the speed. Something struck his shoulder, but the resistance was so little he hardly noticed it at all until the pain struck. There was a soft noise of grass as the blade in his left arm fell to the ground and a large chunk of the same side went entirely numb in hot pain.

He was injured, down an arm, but he would live. If he could fight and survive for a few minutes, Avalon would restore the damage and return the limb to use. Sprinting forward despite the pain and his new disadvantage, Shirou put all of his strength into an overhead strike.

Archer couldn't form swords in time, instead, he decided to take on the attack with his bow alone. As expected, the bow didn't break or falter in the slightest. The unique composite from the future still transmitted memories as the swords had though, and the world Shirou inhabited faded away in a blur.

… … …

The fire crackled amidst the ruined buildings and rubble. So much had been destroyed that it was hard to think people had lived there moments ago. The wails and screams of the dead and dying swirled around with the noise of flame, a cacophony of pained suffering which sent the hairs on the back of his neck upright.

How many had died in the initial blast? How many would die trapped in the flames and rubble? How many orphans like him would be left to struggle through life without parents, without support?

Without a family.

There was a hand in the distance, reaching out to the sky in a desperate silent plea, begging for life. Shirou took a step forward to help, but a shape was already ahead of him. A man in black, a man he knew well. Like a signal had been crossed, the image before his eyes flickered and shifted in an instant.

There was no hand, there was no man, yet the destruction remained.

A woman screamed and Shirou span to face her. Covered in dust and small debris, her tattered clothes barely concealed numerous surface injuries. She was staring at him as if he were a demon prepared to slaughter her, and as he reached out a hand to ask what was wrong, she recoiled as if he were about to attack her.

As the woman scrambled to sprint away, Shirou wondered what he had done to cause such a reaction. Peering down at himself, he was greeted with the sight of blood in various states of age.

It wasn't his either, though whether that was for better or worse was up for debate. It explained the woman's reaction at least.

"There he is! The man who caused this!" A man's voice turned Shirou around again. He was in a similar state to the woman, but his eyes were packed with sheer rage.

Shirou pointed to himself. "I didn't do anything, why are you looking at me?"

"You bastard!" Another voice cried out. Looking toward the source, a woman struggling to support a larger man glared at him with even more hatred. "You cause this then deny being involved?"

"I haven't done anything!" Shirou defended, clueless as to what was going on.

The first man's voice barked back. "Liar! We all saw you use that weapon! You said it was the only option!"

The confusion depended further. What sort of weapon would cause such devastation as this? Was it the reason he was covered in blood? "Look at what you've done, how many lives you've taken and how many you've ruined!"

Slurs rained on him freely and as more and more people brought themselves from the rubble to the rancorous noise. With each person joining the crowd, more voices taunted him until it was the noise was a crowd-like roar.

A rock hit the side of his head and more soon followed. Before long, it was an onslaught of small debris. The rocks were annoying, not painful, but Shirou was more concerned with what they believed he had done. How could he have caused such destruction? Had he really done such a thing?

"Murderer!"

"You killed my family!"

"Villain!"

"Kill yourself!"

"Who do you think you are?"

The comments swirled around him but still, he couldn't determine _why_. A voice echoed out from within his skull rather than from around him. It was familiar, almost as if it were his own conscious speaking. "This is what you will have to face."

Narrowing his eyes and taking a large chunk of stone to the skull, Shirou asked a question to the voice within himself. "What are you talking about?"

"You still don't understand, do you? This is the life you are destined to live, this is your fate."

The words were confusing, what did the voice mean this was his fate? "For people to hate me?"

"To hate you for saving them," the voice corrected. "We are entirely different people, you are right in saying that much." Shirou felt relieved. The voice was from Archer, and he finally could see what Shirou had been saying. "However, you are an even worse existence." The reversal forced a gasp of shock from the boy. "You are a near carbon copy of the man you succeed, however, there is one exception. Kiritsugu Emiya believed lives were synonymous to weight upon scales. The heavier of the two sides was of greater importance, of greater value. Conversely, every iteration of Shirou Emiya I know has followed the ideal of the _Hero of Justice_ , the ideal our father forced upon us due to his own inability."

"I know all of that," a rock rebounded off his cheek, leaving behind a small cut. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you are fundamentally different compared to each of us." The statement was like a slap in the face, hitting far harder than the rocks bouncing off his body. Archer claimed to know every version possible and the fragments of his memory Shirou could decipher, there was merit in his words. Could Shirou, the person he was, really be the only unique one out of an infinite number?

"How can that be possible?"

"You are the point between the two contrasting ideals. You hold a set of scales, but some lives weigh more than others, don't they?"

Shirou didn't even have to think about Archer's words to know what he meant. Illya, Rin, Kiritsugu; all of his friends and family mattered more to him than others. He was prepared to, and _had,_ killed to protect them and he was ready to do it again whenever necessary.

"Precisely," Archer claimed as if reading his mind. "You do not wish to save everyone _and_ your scales are unbalanced: One life does not weigh the same as another for you. It would be normal if you weren't prepared to kill everyone who threatened those upon one side of the scales."

Another rock collided with his face. Clenching his hands into fists, Shirou couldn't come up with an argument. He was right, he admitted it to himself but would he really admit it aloud?

"Regardless of the path you choose, you will always be viewed as an enemy: Following your father's example, the ten saved will always be furious about the one lost. Should you choose to save them all, all will be distant and upset with your own selflessness. Nobody can accept a man who considers his own life to be worthless, it is unnatural. With your own ideal… I don't believe I have to explain to you the outcome of that."

Something cold and sharp impacted his stomach and Shirou's attention flooded back from Archer's voice in his mind to what was transpiring around him. One of the people surrounding him, pelting him with rocks had grown enough courage to pick up a weapon, a weapon that was embedded in his own body.

It hurt, obviously, but it felt as if it were the only way out of this nightmare.

 _ **So as I pray.**_

… … …

" _ **Unlimited Blade Works!**_ "

The incantation was complete, but it wasn't Shirou commanding it. Somehow the two had put space between one another. How long had Shirou been trapped in that odd vision? A burst of flame spawned at Archer's feet before quickly spreading outward across the ground. Shirou worried about his feet but as it passed him, the boy found the flame produced no heat, but as it passed, clay remained. Was that all the reality marble did? Produce some harmless flame and turn the ground into clay?

A brilliant flash of blinding light bathed the area and a sudden violent wind nearly toppled Shirou over, but with a sudden shift of his weight, he remained on his feet. Still, he couldn't see a thing but it seemed as if the light were fading somewhat.

Closing his eyes to keep his retinas from burning out, Shirou re-opened them once the wind had died down only to find an entirely new world surrounding him. An entirely _familiar_ world.

Sun-baked clay spanned across an infinite plane in every direction. Laden with innumerable foreign blades. A blast of oppressing uniform heat scorched his body from each direction and a stagnant lulling wind blew gritty particulate against his skin. Over every horizon a soft yellow light, almost as if it were the start of a sunset, bathed a sky full of misshapen, oddly textured clouds. The atmosphere was hardly the most surprising thing. Overhead were truly colossal, rusted iron gears that turned methodically with inching slowness.

It had all been familiar, but the gears were something new entirely. Searching for Archer, Shirou located the man where he expected him to already be - standing upon a mound of baked clay surrounded by blades.

As expected, the man glared down at him from his self-manufactured throne and the headache Shirou had been holding back returned at full force. He had been here, how many times had he stood in the exact place facing the exact same opponent?

It had been in his dreams, he could remember them all with perfect clarity now. The shadow he had been fighting for so long had been himself, had been Archer. The only problem was, in each of his dreams, he had always been the one who lost.

"You already know of this place, you already know of everything I could tell you due to our synergy. Just as you know me, I now know you and your existence is even more sickening than I could possibly believe." Archer slashed an open hand across his body with a face that couldn't hide his disgust.

If he had witnessed all of Archer's memories, Archer had seen all of his own. The two knew one another now, they knew the opponent they faced better than they knew themselves. There was no point in talking, their every flaw and reason of being was laid out as if written down. Searching his mind for a weapon, Shirou's eyes shot wide open.

There were just _so many_.

More than a million weapons lined his mental armoury and they were all neatly categorized in small easily understandable groupings. Only one section was left unorganized with contents he couldn't determine the use of; _Noble Phantasms_.

He could examine each of them and determine their uses based upon the weapon's history but such a thing took time, time he didn't have. Making note of his expanded armoury, Shirou projected two emerald blades into his hands and focused on Archer again.

"Then all we have left is to let our blades speak for us."

Archer smirked. "Maybe not exactly in the way you expected." Confused about the meaning, Shirou didn't have a chance to ask as more than a dozen blades appeared in the air over Archer's head. It was far more than Shirou could handle confidently and their speed of creation was stunning. In fact, it was practically instantaneous.

Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.

… … …

… … …

Rin pressed her forehead against the window of her room. From the angle, she could watch Illya stare at the former location of both boy and servant in blatant worry. Rin had witnessed the confrontation from the moment Shirou stepped outside but she had done absolutely nothing beyond spectating. She had fooled herself into thinking the best option was for them to speak to one another and work out their differences but the evidence was obviously against her.

"To think my master is a servant himself," Saber murmured from beside her. Upon first entering, Rin had thought Saber would kill her as a threat to her master or force her to stop Archer. Neither happened to be the case, she only wanted answers. Illya had witnessed the fight first and after realizing the two were the same person, she had informed Lancer to hold back who had then told Saber the same.

Obviously Rin hadn't been the only one to think that letting the two battle it out in their own way was the best option. "Imagine the shock I had summoning him," Rin responded absently.

Saber turned to face her, keeping one gloved hand resting upon the window sill. "You are his master, do you know the reason for Archer's animosity toward Shirou?"

Rin closed her eyes and wondered where to start. Maybe the best thing to do was start at the most difficult to swallow part of Archer's identity and work backwards. "Archer is a counter guardian." Waiting for a reaction, Saber didn't say a single thing. It was odd, she expected at least a gasp or _something_. "He also plans on killing Shirou for reasons I can only hypothesize. Perhaps he believes it will put an end to his very existence or maybe he has a grudge against his former self."

"Regardless of his actions, it will not affect his counter-guardian status. To be a servant is to be removed from time itself, the mould is already cast."

"I think he knows that already, but I don't think he cares. Maybe he's stopping himself from becoming the man he turned into?"

Saber produced a soft sigh. "I fail to see the reason why he would concern himself with such a trivial matter. If he truly desired to erase his own existence, wouldn't claiming the Grai-" Saber made a sharp noise as if in pain, closed her mouth and looked out of the window. Confused as to why she stopped herself, Rin questioned what was wrong only to get a stubborn shake of the head. "Nothing is wrong, I merely remembered something."

Unsure what that something was, Rin opened her mouth to ask but the servant continued. "I am uncertain how the flow of time operates within the bounds of a reality marble, but I assume we can expect their return shortly. My master's energy is fading quickly."

Without speaking another word, the servant turned from the window toward the door to leave. Saber was a very hard woman to read and her interactions so far had been clipped and cut short almost as if she was purposefully trying to keep anyone from gleaning anything about her personality.

Sighing as Saber closed the door behind her, Rin turned back to peer out of the window where she watched Lancer gently lay a gauntleted hand upon Illya's head. Another explosion echoed through the sky and quaked the manor. There had been so many of those in the past few hours, it was getting difficult to ignore. If her estimations were correct, they originated from the industrial area to the east at the docks.

Gritting her teeth, Rin wondered just how much damage was being caused. Something was wrong with the Grail War, and her suspicions started the other night after her fight against Bazett.

Rin had caused a massive amount of damage to the city with her attack and it had been far from subtle. The reports had hit the news the following morning but there was no attempt at repair or explanation. In fact, it had been left entirely up to interpretation. What was the overseer doing and why weren't they stepping in to explain things to the normal people?

Something wasn't right, but she couldn't go around flinging accusations anywhere until she was certain. If the explosions tonight weren't handled by tomorrow morning, she would need to have a chat with the overseer as Second Owner of Fuyuki.

With or without Archer at her side.

A muffled shouting broke Rin from her thoughts. Peering down, Rin watched Lancer support a limp Illya that was even paler than usual. Cursing, Rin quickly moved off the window toward her door.

How much mana was that idiot using?

… … …

… … …

Shirou couldn't even catch his breath. Archer didn't relent for a single moment. When the two were clashing blades head-to-head, the servant dominated him in every field. Speed, strength, ability all exceeded his own by a large magnitude. The only benefit Shirou had was his increased endurance thanks to Avalon, showcased by his already usable shoulder. At range, the speed of projection formation trumped anything Shirou could manage, even with limitless mana. The boy tried to keep up by increasing the overall number but Archer formed and fired weapons so much faster than he could manage. By the time Shirou finalized his projections, Archer's were already halfway to killing him. It was only because he could throw every ounce of mana at his creations carelessly that was letting him survive.

He was at his limit and it _still_ wasn't enough. To make matters worse, it didn't even look like Archer was putting in _half_ of his full strength. Was the servant just that much stronger than he was? But _why_ when he has so much more of an advantage?

Archer had no magic crest, Archer lacked any formal training and hadn't been brought up as a pseudo-assassin under the Magus Killer so why was he so much greater than he was?

It was time to start using everything Archer couldn't. " **Time Alter: Double Accel!** " Spewing mana like a faulty fire hydrant, Shirou formed dozens of weapons while moving forward. The strain on his mind sent a stabbing pain through his skull but if he was going to defeat Archer, he had to do something unexpected.

Every step toward Archer sent searing pain coursing through his entire body. The servant was only just lifting his weapons to prepare for an attack, but his expression revealed how shaken he was from the increase in speed.

Blades formed over his shoulder, defeating Archer's already rapid projections in speed. Firing as soon as they were completed, machine-gun-like projectiles screamed through the hot sky toward their target.

Allowing Time Alter to fall apart, Shirou continued sprinting forward as the projectiles struck their target. The power behind their doubled speed broke apart the clay mound and threw up a cloud of grit that was difficult to see through. Still, the boy continued onward and raised two emerald blades to land the finishing blow.

"Overedge!" All of Shirou's instincts told him to jump away but there was no time to reverse his momentum. The best he could do was shift his blades to block his front. Something huge slashed through the cloud of dust, producing a hollow noise, the object collided with Shirou's blades and passed straight through with almost no resistance at all.

Dropping the remnants of his weapons, bending his body and throwing himself forward in a roll was the only thing he could do. Entering the cloud of dust, an oddly crystallized blade skimmed his abdomen and reopened the wound Archer had given him earlier. Flying through the cloud, Shirou hit the other side and tumbled down the hill back to the flat plain below.

Slowing to a kneel, Shirou touched his new injury and pulled back to find fresh blood. From what details Shirou could gather off the barest glimpse during its attack, 'overedge' was just a variation on Kanshou and Bakuya. Each blade was overloaded with more mana than the material could handle. Increasing the core components beyond any ordinary limit came at the cost of integrity and durability, but when each weapon was temporary to begin with, such a thing was superfluous.

So Archer had his own tricks just as he did, then. He was fighting a losing battle then. He had tricks, he had a greater arsenal and all the experience to use it perfectly and his projection speed was far greater than anything Shirou himself could manage.

But maybe he could even the playing field just a little, maybe along with Time Alter, that would be enough to beat Archer. " **I am the bone of my sword**."

The first line was familiar, natural. The second line had to be changed to match Archer's. It wasn't his own, but it was the only incantation that was completed. Standing and turning to face Archer, Shirou was forced to recreate blades on sheer reaction to protect himself. The servant was trying to stop him, but Shirou persisted. Countering the barrage with a delayed one of his own, Shirou was forced to use his own hands and projected blades to bat away incoming weapons. The third, fourth and fifth lines felt unnatural to speak and he certainly didn't feel any different, but the full marble only actualized after the last line.

"Do you truly believe you can defeat me with my own ability?" The voice was moving and Shirou only had a fraction of a second to lift his blades in defence before something collided with his body and sent him flying backwards.

Sliding on the ground, the shards of his weapons vanished into sparks of mana beside him. His body heaved in an exertion to capture oxygen as his diaphragm struggled to recover. Gasping, Shirou peered up to Archer as he projected a pair of his favoured blades. Metallic crystals bloomed near the hilt and both weapons elongated with odd crackling noises.

" **Have withstood pain to create many weapons, yet, those hands will never hold anything.** " Pressing his fist into the clay below, Shirou lifted his body upright.

"You bastard!"

" **So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works!** "

Shirou held his defiant expression for a moment, but nothing happened. Looking down, no flame bloomed at his feet, no change affected the reality marble itself. He didn't feel any different either.

What happened?

Why hadn't it worked?

* * *

 **With the odds against him how will he recover?**

 **There's so much for Shirou to deal with, how will he cope with everything hitting all at once?**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I don't have much to say here (as usual lol). remember to favourite, follow, review, wash your hands and stay safe!**


	30. Without a Reflection

**Howdy all! I'm still not dead, though I do bring some normal news, good news and bad news.**

 **The normal news is: I'm working on 4 projects right now. I've got Fate:US, Fate:EoE (Which is very slowly being worked on) and I'm starting two new projects. One is a romance/SoL fic featuring a pairing I think could work really well but is unexplored. It's** ** _almost_** **done the first chapter, so keep an eye out for it.**

 **The other project I have on the go is a collab between myself and another writer but this one is going to be ORIGINAL fiction. I'll shoot you guys a link to that when it's done for those who might be interested there as well.**

 **With the normal news over, we'll move to the bad news.**

 **No, the bad news is not: "I'm abandoning this project blah-blah-blah." I'm not going to abandon this fic until it's done, you can rest assured with that fact. Will some chapters take much longer than others to come out? Absolutely, 100% and that's more or less what the bad news is. I'm having a real hard time writing over the past few weeks. It's actively becoming a struggle for some reason to think of ideas and write properly and I've noticed it myself in my own writing. Some parts just do** ** _not_** **flow and I have to rewrite them 4-5 times before they do. If you've noticed stuff like that, let me know and I'll try to resort myself out. Until I get over whatever is causing my work to be so poor in quality, expect things to slow down even more than they already have been. It's unfortunate and you can hate me if you want, but it's not really something I can help, sorry.**

 **On to the good news: Talndir has made a return! It's true what they say, you never know what you have until it's gone and he is not an exception. Supreme beta is back, hopefully to stay!**

 **The last thing I have to talk about is your great reviews! Some of you have pointed out a problem with Archer and Shirou and I can absolutely understand where you're coming from, but the fight wasn't over in the last chapter, so you** ** _might_** **have jumped the gun on your outlook of it, heh-heh. Either way, I've done some additional tweaking to satiate your complaints and I hope this chapter helps out!**

* * *

 _Marvelling at the still-burning training target, Shirou looked down at his own adolescent hands and flexed his fingers. Every other magus he knew could cast so many different spells, why was he different? It made him jealous, it made him feel inadequate and it made him wonder if he was less of a magus because of it. Was that why Rin always called him a third rate magus? "Why can't I use magic like you can, Rin?"_

 _With a soft pat on the nose, the Tohsaka held one accusing finger in front of Shirou's face. "Magecraft," she corrected. "Using magecraft isn't just saying some fancy words, it's about entering a trance and believing the spell you're attempting to cast. Such a thing is one of the components which separates magi from normal people."_

 _Shirou scratched the back of his head. "So I just have to believe in what I'm casting and it will work?"_

 _Rin scrunched up her face. "Not entirely. Sometimes, even if you believe in the magecraft and make the correct incantation, certain people just lack the history to cast the same spells. It's another barrier that separates novices and masters like you and I."_

 _Shirou nodded, glazing over the insult entirely. "So I need to believe, say the right incantation and have the history to cast magecraft?" The girl nodded with a soft smirk. "What do you mean by history?"_

 _"Your life has to be reflected in the magecraft you cast. Without a foundation of experience to build upon, it won't work. Your magecraft is defined by who you are as a person and it will change and grow with you."_

… … …

"Of course," Shirou murmured. "The incantation doesn't mean anything to me."

"Precisely." A cold voice from ahead yanked him back into reality and a foot impacted his chest, sending the boy sprawling onto the ground. "Your ability is running out. Despite having greater potential, you are unable to defeat raw experience." Rather than Kanshou or Bakuya, Archer raised a sword with far longer reach to skewer his skull. "Insult to injury, you've completely missed the point of this conflict."

Rolling to the side as Archer's muscles flexed, Shirou nearly caught his ear as the blade pierced the clay where his head had been. Shooting his legs up and over his own chest, the boy rolled backwards so that he could stand.

On his feet, two more emerald blades appeared within his grasp and a dozen more formed in his mind. "Stop talking and focus on the figh-" Shirou cut himself off by crying out in pain.

Something had pierced the back of his thigh and lodged itself within his body. Collapsing forward to alleviate the weight, he looked back to find a blade; a familiar blade in fact. It was one of the nameless weapons he'd deflected by hand during the last barrage.

It hadn't shattered on impact like some of the others. Instead, it had been skewed off course and he had assumed it would fly off wildly without consequence. There was only one conclusion; Archer was able to manipulate his projections beyond their initial points. It was just another point where Archer surpassed his younger self.

Gripping the handle, Shirou unceremoniously yanked the blade free and used it to deflect an incoming strike before he could stand upright again. Chest heaving as the boy struggled to gather breath, Shirou could only listen to Archer's berating words in the still air between bouts of combat. "If you aim to hold onto your sanity, you must fight each of your battles in total understanding of both sides." Blades appeared over Archer's shoulders, looming ominously in the air ready to fire at a moment's notice. "If you fight without ever understanding the opponent before you, you will never retain the part of yourself that is most important."

Shirou tightened his eyes and flexed his fingers tentatively. What was Archer planning with the sudden mentor-like speech? Was it some sort of mental manipulation to make him drop his guard? Recalling Archer's memories, his every aspiration across thousands of Grail Wars streamed through into one single point. "Your goal is to kill every Shirou Emiya to prevent yourself from ever becoming a counter guardian."

"And are you included in that?"

Shirou grit his teeth. What sort of a foolish question was that? "I'm a Shirou Emiya, it's the only explanation!"

Archer closed his eyes and shook his head. The weapons over his body exploded from their place like a torrential downpour and Shirou stressed his circuits and body just to survive it. Lacerated with several more blood-trickling wounds, Archer held firm on his barrage. "You're far more short-sighted than I could have ever thought. If you cannot see the reason for this battle, you will never be able to succeed in the path you've chosen!" It wasn't anger in his voice, but bitter disappointment.

The words were confusing and Shirou could only think about them in bursts between raining swords. Struggling to keep up with Archer's instantaneous projections, Shirou was brought to the point of exhaustion each time before Archer abated purely to taunt him further.

It felt as if the servant was stress testing him, gauging just how far he could be pushed before he would break like a flimsy branch. Was that all it was? Had Archer's goal in the fight changed along the way into something so trivial? To succeed in the path he chose meant to protect his friends and family no matter what it took, but how did that relate to Archer's goal? If Archer wanted to kill him merely to prevent the creation of another Counter Guardian, then why was he still attacking? Shirou had no intention of ever letting himself become such an existence.

A sword larger than Shirou's entire body soared past, producing a blast of air pressure that sent the boy skittering off-balanced to one side. Struggling to even stand on his feet, another sword collided with his guard and sent his already unbalanced body toppling over backwards. Panting raggedly, Shirou formed two more blades and prepared to defend himself but Archer's torrent of weaponry had faded.

Archer's memories continually replayed in his head. To fight battles without understanding both sides meant he would lose something important? Was that what had happened to _him_? A counter guardian condemned to kill nameless people without real orders beyond senseless slaughter; had Archer lost the exact thing he was trying to teach him to preserve?

His sanity.

It had been like a lightbulb in a dark room. That which had been most important to preserving Archer's original goal, being a Hero of Justice, had been lost in the senseless slaughter of those he never really understood.

Would Shirou find himself in the same place? Humouring the thought for a moment, Shirou considered his own goal in the current battle. "I fight," he began, pausing to lift himself off the ground and stand upright. "I fight this battle to survive so that I can protect Illya. I fight to kill you so I can protect Rin from someone who never really cared about her the same way I do." Shirou could see Archer's subtle flinch at the comment. They both knew each others' secrets, nothing could be hidden anymore. "I fight to put an end to the Holy Grail War so nobody has to go through the same pain we have, all for some stupid wish granter that kills as many people as possible." Breath levelled and courage bubbling in his throat, Shirou gripped his blades tightly and formed a new volley of projectiles over his own head. "And I'll crush every instance of the Hero of Justice that remains within me, so long as it means I can keep my family safe."

Archer stood motionless in the soft sun-warmed breeze of the reality marble. Releasing a soft sigh, he formed a set of his own blades. "I fight not to eliminate a potential progenitor following my mistakes, but to test the resolve and capabilities of one so prepared to take on the world for his family." Lifting one hand to point the tip of the white blade in his direction, Archer narrowed his eyes. "If you cannot defeat a minor roadblock upon that path like myself, then you will be incapable of surviving what is to come."

Shirou blinked in comprehension. So his goal had changed, but it had been for a reason Shirou would have never guessed. Before the boy could fully digest anything, the servant spawned another wave. The newest onslaught of weapons was a total monsoon; each of Shirou's counter-projections were destroyed before he could realize it and most of the volley had to go deflected entirely by hand. Just as Shirou finished the first, Archer moved in to strike physically, driving Shirou further and further back along the clay as the strength behind each strike rattled his arms to his core. The two were fighting at their absolute limit but still neither yielded to the other, at least not fully.

Amidst the seemingly innumerable attacks and swords, Shirou sustained almost as many minor injuries. What remained of his clothes were soaked in a mix of sweat and blood, his eyes were being covered and blurred with crimson fluid and his entire body burned in pain as if he had been whipped. Still, the boy fought with as much fervour as he could possibly muster and it was enough to keep the battle from being too one-sided at least.

Following a clash, Archer pressed onward to lock their blades, bleeding pressure and forcing him backwards. Shirou struggled to keep his arms away from his face and his feet from sliding on the clay.

Archer's eyes beamed through him, though their entire emotion had changed. There was still resentment and regret, but now there was an odd sadness and sense of pity that made Shirou angry. A soft patch in the clay sunk his feet enough to give him traction and his body found the strength to force the servant off. Moving with the force, Archer extended his arms to make distance then launched himself high into the air. At the apex of his jump, a bow formed in his grasp and a sword notched in the string.

Forming a hasty set of weapons in front of the ones in his hands, Shirou couldn't even fully prepare his guard before the weapon struck. Piercing his first set of weapons, the projectile became fused to the sword in his hand and the sharpened tip jammed into his chest, painfully pressing hot metal through his skin. It had stopped, it hadn't punctured his organs, but it had been close.

Reeling from the attack and throwing the mangled amalgamation of hot steel away, Shirou replaced his weapons and stared at Archer hatefully. Was surviving the best he could do? Was he destined to fail time and time again just like he did within his dreams?

A wave of blades appeared over Archer and fired before Shirou could even prepare. Projecting what he could, batting away what remained, a sword punctured his recently healed shoulder, dragging his body back with the momentum as he fought to stand.

Using one arm, Shirou grunted in exertion to stand upright and deflect an axe directed at his chest. The barrage ended, but it had left him in rough shape. Gripping the handle of the impaled weapon, Shirou struggled to withdraw it from his body. How much longer could he fight? How much longer until he would be forced to use his incomplete reality marble?

He didn't want to use it. In fact, it was his least preferred option. Last time had changed him somehow, he wasn't willing to let it change him anymore. Though, was there any other way to defeat Archer without it?

With a sharp jarring motion, the blade was withdrawn and tossed to the hot clay below. Avalon began working on repairing the hole but the limb wouldn't be usable for some time yet. He wouldn't let himself be altered by his reality marble, he couldn't. He needed to protect Illya and he wouldn't be able to do that without his own sanity.

Archer's feet made muffled steps as he approached. "You're holding back, I can tell." Keeping his married blades down at his side, the servant continued. "What is it that you're so afraid to let go?" The pity in his eyes was infuriating. Where did he get off on pitying him? _He_ was the idiot that decided to condemn his life as a servant to a merciless force. _He_ was the one who slaughtered innocent people endlessly.

Shirou considered his options. There was still one attack that could kill Archer if it landed. Borrowing a weapon from the arrow modifications section of Archer's memories, a streamlined sword appeared within his mind. "I told you to shut up!" Making as many copies of his mentally chosen projectile as he could, ephemeral ghosts of their construction appeared overhead. As Shirou blinked and prepared to advance into the next stage of his plan, the sound of shattering glass sent fragments of partially-formed blades toward the ground. Gaping at the speed of Archer's counter, the boy raised his one good arm and blocked a ruthless barrage of strikes.

Being pushed back due to the power behind each swing, Shirou could only continue giving up ground to try and distance himself. There was no chance he could manage with only one arm. The rate of Avalon's healing was slowed due to how much damage he sustained and his shoulder still needed time to heal.

A new weapon appeared in Shirou's mind, one he knew Archer wouldn't have. Pre-loading a half dozen and biding his time, Shirou prepared to make his attack when the time was right.

But then the blade in his hand shattered. Projection too weak to handle the abuse, Archer's blade passed through and nearly claimed Shirou's hand as well. Throwing his body back, he wasn't able to get out of range before a black sword pierced the side of his leg to the handle. Screaming in pain as it scraped along his bone and exited the other side, Shirou shakily landed on his one good leg.

On the metaphorical ropes there was no better time to take action, Shirou let everything loose. Pre-ignited smoke grenades fell from the sky. The weapons borrowed from his father's trade began spinning wildly and filling the air with rapidly expanding yellowish smog. A staff appeared in his hand, barely formed before it was being manipulated. With a flicker of mana through his hands, the staff extended and collided with the clay, sending the boy flying from his former location.

With only one working leg, he couldn't control his landing. Instead, he practically collapsed on the ground and was forced to pick himself up using his staff as a support. He had little time, but the smoke grenades were doing their job if Archer's minor coughing and haphazard projection firing was any indication.

The smoke grenades were made of mana at their core, meaning everything within was a disturbance Shirou could detect and track. Seeing himself within his own creations would have been difficult, but thankfully enough their magical frequencies were vastly different, likely due to Shirou holding and using an actual magic crest.

The streamlined blade Shirou had first projected appeared ahead and his hand hovered over the hilt as it finalized. He was sorry for what it would do to him, sorrier still for what it would do to Illya, but it was his only chance of equalizing the fight.

" **Time Alter: Square Stagnate!** "

… … …

"I'm fine, don't touch me!" Swatting Lancer's gauntlet off her shoulder, Illya locked her legs and took a deep breath to remain standing. With a soft crackling noise, lines of crimson spread across her cheeks. Based on the soft crimson light peeking through the stitching of her clothes, even more lines covered her body.

Illya's magic crest, Rin had never seen it using mana at peak output before. Marvelling at its odd full-body coverage for a moment, she returned to focusing on how she could help. Moving to the kitchen, she collected a glass and filled it with cold water.

Understanding how uncomfortable it was to be excessively hot as a result of crest usage, she could sympathize with the girl. Returning and offering the beverage, Illya shot back a resentful glare. "Why are you trying to help me? Your servant is the reason I have to push myself like this."

Rin had never seen so much raw hate emanate from Illya before and if she were honest it was rather unnerving. Before her stood the perfect magical battery and the master of a servant that could end her in an instant. "I didn't tell my servant to do anything, he acted entirely in his own volition."

"Then why didn't you use a command seal to stop him?" she snapped back just as quickly. Sweat started to form on her forehead but as it touched the glowing crimson lines it instantly boiled into steam. Rin had no idea Shirou could draw that much mana for his magecraft. With his low number and poor quality circuits it was a wonder he could fight as well as he could.

With aggressive scorn, the girl snatched the glass of water from her hands and chugged the entire contents in a single gulp. Pursing her lips in annoyance, Rin planted both hands on her hips. "They aren't the same person, I knew that from the start. I thought letting them work out their differences together would be for the best." Seeing the glimmer of agitation in the homunculus' eyes, Rin continued. "I knew Shirou could hold his own against himself, so I wasn't worried when they started fighting, just like you shouldn't be."

Thrusting back the emptied glass in her direction, Illya looked prepared to kill whoever touched another one of her nerves. "You're not the one fueling him with mana," she growled. Suddenly, she clenched one eye and made a pained noise. Her legs buckled and her weight fell onto her knees.

Opening her mouth to ask what was wrong, Rin never got a chance to speak a syllable. As if lightning had struck outside the house, a bright but brief flash splashed through the house, though the only sound made was a quiet pop. Looking toward the back yard, something stood out immediately.

There was a hole clearly visible in the wall roughly the size of a coffee can pointed in her direction. It was unnatural, not because it was a hole - which was unnatural enough - but because the edges were too perfect. It was less as if a projectile had passed through and more as if the material within had been removed from existence. Not even a frayed edge was left behind.

Following the line made by the hole, Rin noticed a clump of her own hair sitting on the ground, sliced perfectly as if by a pair of scissors. Using her hands only confirmed the fact. Following the same line, she spotted a similar exit hole. "Shirou has returned," Saber intoned softly before sprinting toward the backyard.

Lancer watched her leave, but was more concerned with supporting his own master. Despite her audible protests, the servant lifted her up and transported her to sit on something softer where she wouldn't have to be on her feet.

Letting Lancer handle his own battle with an angry homunculus, Rin followed Saber's lead and entered the backyard where she witnessed two versions of Shirou panting in exhaustion. One was definitely in worse shape than the other with their clothes destroyed and innumerable lacerations across their body. The small bleeding wounds were nothing in comparison to the barely attached limb on their left side. Their arm was beyond any possible repair. Mangled, mashed and with a hole running through it from palm to elbow, it was mere dead weight.

She didn't know whether to feel happy or upset that it was her servant and not her boyfriend that was in such a condition, but she had to live with what was in front of her. Shirou - the boy she knew - was injured, but far from the worst she had ever seen him. Actually, considering how close she had seen him before, he was doing quite well, especially against a more experienced version of himself.

Saber stood at the outskirts of the battleground, clenching her fists tight in frustration as she watched the two recover their breath. Trying to gather something from their link, Rin determined that Archer wasn't drawing from her mana anymore, not even to heal his wounds.

There were so many questions in her mind but she couldn't gather any answers beyond what her eyes could see. Shirou had won the fight, but was that really the same as winning the battle against himself? "Despite not holding back, the conclusion remains the same." Huffing out a steaming breath, the servant remained standing defiantly. "Do you plan on finishing this?"

Panting in exhaustion, the two continued threateningly glaring at once another. It was clear that neither could act on their desires to kill the other. A pair of emerald coloured blades appeared in Shirou's hands. "Are you going to hurt my sister?"

"She really is all you care about," the servant chuckled emptily. "I wouldn't harm her regardless. If you're so cruel as to want a direct response then no."

Shirou nodded and the blades in his grasp disappeared. "Then I have no reason to kill you."

With a stumble forward, Shirou nearly planted his face on the ground. His second step actually sent him sprawling and Saber flew to his side for assistance. Helping the boy stand, she gave seething glances toward Archer who was dematerializing into spirit form. "To think a single attack from a mundane weapon could break the Aias and the marble."

Rin could only understand part of Archer's comment but it was enough to shock her entirely. It wasn't a weapon Shirou had that had defeated the servant, but a technique.

" _I won't be able to fight for some time._ " Archer's monotonous voice carried a slight tinge of defeat upon it but there was also something else as well.

Moving aside while Saber hauled the protesting Shirou inside, Rin could only shake her head. "Why do I have to deal with _two_ idiots?"

… … …

… … …

"This wasn't really how I expected things to go." Pressing against the smaller woman and raising his staff, the last of the Assassin stragglers vanished into the night. Fighting off Assassin and working back-to-back with his most despised enemy certainly hadn't been in his itinerary.

"I can't make you mine if you're dead Cù, it makes sense to fight off anyone that threatens to take you from me."

Grumbling angrily, the man fired more than a dozen concentrated fireballs at a large blackened shape. Despite all of them landing on target, his opponent failed to die. For being Assassin they were remarkably resilient and even with Rider on his side they had only managed to kill one.

When Rider first appeared she had come on a chariot, bringing another Assassin with her. That one had been different from the others, almost more composed and refined. Rather than stay and fight, it had left immediately and covered its retreat with more iterations of itself. Were there levels to how strong they were too? "Could you stop calling me by name? You're throwing all my cards on the table before I even get a chance to look at them."

"What would you prefer I call you then? _My dear, mo anam cara_ or maybe even _stóirín_?" Cringing inwardly at the use of Gaelic pet names, Caster pushed himself away and span on his heels to face a new opponent.

"Caster," he announced clearly. "No more, no less." With a flick of the hand, the head of the staff was pointed ominously at Rider's face. "And all you'll ever be is Rider, my enemy."

Pouting heavily, the girl tucked her elbows to her sides, forcing out her moderate bosom in a blatant attempt at seducing him. "Come on Cù-Caster, don't be mean to me. I helped you out and I wanted us to work together."

"Work together?" The man laughed in spite. "As if I'd ever try to work with the woman who slaughtered dozens of my clansmen in cold blood, the woman whose only goal was to destroy and seduce as many as she could to ruin Ulster."

Rider squeezed her legs together and shimmied on the spot as if unable to control herself. "You speak about me with such passion, it's almost as if you're an adoring fan."

Furrowing his brow and blinking in disbelief, Caster let his staff fall from its prepared position. "You've got real problems, you know that? Maybe you were dropped when you were younger but something ain't right up there."

Rider maintained her pout while twisting to shake her assets in his view. Being so repulsed by the woman's personality, her attempt at a show didn't affect him in the slightest. "My masters came out tonight to find you so we could work together, don't disappoint us all by declining."

"The story I hear from my master is the exact opposite. They're all trying to kill each other. Maybe we should follow their lead and skip the conversation too."

Rider's eyes sharpened into a venomous glare. "I'll be able to change that stubborn mind of yours and your master will have no excuse not to accept. Now come and take a drink of _My Red Mead_." With a flick of the wrist, a golden shower of sparks spawned forth from Rider's hand, revealing a gilded bottle of fluid that was otherwise nondescript.

The woman stood there, holding her bottle of booze as if expecting something extraordinary. When Caster merely blinked, cocked out his hip and maneuvered his staff to act as a resting pole, the woman looked bewildered. "So you've brought booze, am I supposed to be impressed that it's in a gold bottle?"

Blinking rapidly, the woman's eyes flickered between the bottle to the man who cared so little it hurt. "Why isn't it working? I had thought- it doesn't matter what I thought, why aren't you affected by it?" Anger had edged its way into Rider's voice and the edges of her perfect smile were beginning to droop.

Caster shrugged but a wicked grin spread across his face. "Don't know what to tell you, but I think you should focus on the important things."

A bright orange glow sent Rider spinning around to meet the disturbance. Eyes widened at runic sigils which were rapidly being written on the very sky. She didn't have the time to react, as Caster completed his spell and bombarded her with violent explosions.

Blackened smog concealed her location but Caster knew better than to believe she was dead. Stamping his staff upon the ground, a tablet of rock popped into the air before being stopped in mid-air with a touch of the staff's head. With honed dexterity, the man scrawled a rune upon its hardened surface with one finger. Completing it, he encircled the air around the stone in a ring of orange sigils before pressing his palm against the first rune.

A torrent of gale-force wind erupted and shot forward from the rock like a wind tunnel, blasting away the smog and revealing Rider in a defensive position. As the stone tablet crumbled away after being used, the sigils encircling the piece turned into fireballs which were sucked into the gale and shot forward like a makeshift rifle.

Caster could tell the first fireball had landed spot on but he wouldn't let up his offence until he was certain she was dead. When his 'ammunition' was expended, the man twirled the staff around to launch yet another volley. Before he could consider it, a flash of rainbow light spewed from within the smoke he had created and every fibre of his body told him to get out of the way while simultaneously informing him that he was far too late.

He recognized the light and the familiar tremble within the ground. It was that of an old friend, a man who guided him during his early life - someone he might have even called _father_. Doing his best to protect his face with his arms while what sigils he could muster with his eyes shut, the servant felt his body bathe in a sudden growing heat. Subconsciously, the man murmured to himself.

"You don't deserve to use that blade."

… … …

Breaks just didn't seem to exist for him. For what little amount of rest he could gather, it seemed that something always brought him back to the point of absolute exhaustion. It was a cycle of minor gains and extended losses and he was just starting to feel totally drained, even with Illya supporting his mana supply.

That was an entirely different issue he couldn't wrap his head around either. His life didn't feel as if it were on the line, couldn't Rin and Illya have done something else that wasn't so drastic and permanent?

Admittedly he was feeling better than he had when he first entered the Tohsaka manor; even after dealing with Archer. Illya's gift had given him the edge required to stand up against Archer and inevitably defeat him. There was no way he would have been able to perform that last attack on his own mana stores. He would have instantly killed himself merely attempting it.

He had walked away from a battle against himself, but he felt more confused than when he started. Peering down at one of his hands, the boy examined his skin and flexed his joints. He was the same person, but the memories in his head and the visions he periodically saw weren't his own.

He knew Archer's life from start to finish, he understood the man he became and his entire reasoning for hating his own existence. If he looked far enough, he could see the Fifth War being replayed a hundred different times, each with minor or major differences.

That being said, none of the Wars held similarities to this one. Comparing the faces of the servants in Archer's memories and the faces of the servants he had seen, he could only correlate two excluding Archer himself.

Saber as she was and Cú Chulainn, though he was always Lancer in the other Wars. None of the other servants - and the hidden powerful eighth - seemed to play a part this time around. If he looked even further back, deep within nearly forgotten memories of the servant, he could trace it back to the point of difference between them.

Kiritsugu Emiya, the father figure they shared, though each of them held vastly different thoughts on the man. He had been a different father for Archer. Caring, kind and secretive. Not to say that Shirou's father wasn't the same, but the assassin within was much, much closer to the surface than in Archer's life.

Gaining a headache from prying so far into the past, Shirou reeled his mind back to the present before he got lost. There were other parts that had been unlocked he could think upon without hurting his brain. One, but not the most pressing, was the versatile armoury he had gained from his battle with Archer.

He had lacked weapons with variance before but now he couldn't even begin to fathom how large his arsenal was. Thousands of basic, common weapons of every style imaginable and hundreds of noble phantasms, each unknown to Shirou himself. He would have to project and test each one to determine their possible uses and that would take quite a lot of time.

Still, that was not his primary concern. What really dominated his mind was the flood of information from all of the dreams he had somehow been repressing. Every battle, every contact and interaction with the world Archer inhabited was nestled between his normal memories.

There was a soft thunk of glass as he pressed his forehead against the cooled surface. Reflexively his hands gripped the edge of the window sill for comfort. How could he have forgotten what seemed so important? Why had his brain blocked out those memories?

If he knew what he was fighting, if he had seen his own downfall time and time again, maybe he could have changed something to prevent himself from falling so low. He had to protect Illya and his family though, didn't he? Was such a simple goal of keeping the ones he loved alive so selfish and wicked? Why did the cost seem so great at all times?

More importantly, how had Kiera Eliphas lodged herself in his brain, and why couldn't he detect or hear her when he was awake? She was known to invade the minds of her enemies, did that sort of magecraft transport an actual part of her into the target's mind somehow? He had no idea how such a thing would work, but more peculiar situations and outcomes existed in the magus world. Her scathing words echoed within his skull.

He would be able to defend his family if he became a monster, but doing so would hurt the very same people as he became lost. How was he supposed to protect and be there for them at the same time? Would he end up having to choose?

The wooden window sill within his hands splintered, dragging him from the hell that was his own inner conflict. Opening his hands and looking at the splintered, bloody mess he had made of them, Shirou took a deep breath and worked to pick the pieces out of his flesh one by one.

The pain was welcome, almost pleasant in a way. It drew his mind away from that which he would rather not think about.

Finishing and deciding to fix the damage he caused later, Shirou migrated to the en suite bathroom to wash the blood away. It was late and he was exhausted, but he didn't feel like sleeping. If he let himself slip away there was a chance he would return to that sun-baked clay nightmare that was somehow worse than the typical one within the Great Fuyuki Fire. All he wanted was a distraction, anything to keep his mind away from itself.

Where was the balance between protecting others and his own wellbeing?

… … …

… … …

Gray peered out from underneath the shade of her cloak at the small town that slowly rolled into view. It was too small to house its own airport, so Reines had chartered a driver to transport them from the nearby city, which did, into the town of interest.

"Something catch your eye?" A voice that was far too close to her ear forced the girl to turn away and shield her face. "Come now, you can't hide such a cute face away forever."

Tugging on the back of her hood, Gray snatched the edges and tugged it tight against her face. "I can and will," the girl defied, tightening her grip to ensure her hood wouldn't be removed. With a dejected sigh, Reines collapsed back into her seat.

"You're far less fun to tease than my big brother. Here I thought we would have a great time alone on a trip in a foreign land." Catching sight of her own reflection in the window as the light of dawn struck its surface, Gray quickly shifted her whole body to move her own visage out of sight.

"I thought we came here in search of Blade." As far as she knew, she was only there as backup protection for Reines in the case that Trimmau or the mage herself wouldn't be enough. She was supposed to watch from the sidelines as she always did at Sir's side.

"We did, though that doesn't mean we are incapable of enjoying ourselves amidst our search." Sighing softly, Gray leaned her head against the car door and closed her eyes.

There was a question she had been wanting to ask but couldn't muster the courage to commit. A thousand miles away from home and with nothing better to do, it seemed like a good enough time. "What do you plan on doing once you find him?"

"I'll kill him." The response was so sudden, jarring and full of icy conviction that Gray's eyes reflexively opened. "Lying to all of the lords and deceiving the entire Clock Tower with a forged identity. Excluding the fact that he may very well be the Magus Killer's son, those two offences are punishable by death already."

The information about the man came as no surprise, but Reines' statement on what his punishment was certainly had. "Is death really-"

"Gray, is there something you're not telling me?"

The accusation cut deep. Partly because it was on point and partly because it had come out of nowhere. Had her face appeared that guilty? "You and I have the same knowledge, I know all that you do."

Reines' eyes sharpened into a penetrating gaze. "You're uncomfortable, you've yet to sit still since we left the Clock Tower and you've been looking out of windows as if searching for something." The glare was disturbing enough to force Gray to look away. "I believe I know what is disturbing you as well."

Biting her lip, Gray could see that the information was going to be torn out of her whether she came clean or not. "I-"

"You can't stop thinking about my big brother, can you?"

In even greater bewilderment, Gray gaped at Reines before coming to her senses. If she denied her attraction, Reines' would dig deeper. If she admitted it, there was no telling what sort of trouble she would be in with Sir when she returned. "Yes, that is the problem," she lied, peering out the window again. She could handle Sir when she returned, protecting Shirou was of higher priority.

"My, my, to think the adorable servant has fallen for her master. I wouldn't say I don't condone it, but I have the feeling he will be far harder to convince than I will." Sparing a short glance in her direction, Gray only needed to note the malicious ear-to-ear smile on Reines' face to know she was purposely trying to make her squirm. Taking a deep breath, Gray tried to calm the blush that tried making its way onto her face.

Gray had to listen and evade Reines' attempts at conversing with her until they could get to their destination. Befitting someone like Reines, it was a fancy-looking hotel surrounded by bright lights and other large buildings in the middle of a bustling modern cityscape. For a town seemingly so small the infrastructure was quite large, though the sidewalks lacked the population density she would have expected. Perhaps that was for other reasons she wasn't aware of, but it was rather odd regardless.

Gray wondered why they were at a hotel and not a private manor. "We're not staying with Lady Edelfelt?"

"Mrs. Edelfelt is a mercenary by trade. I have no desire to operate with someone of her status. Besides, I would prefer to handle Blade's punishment personally. Perhaps I can even retrieve his crest and sell it off for a considerable sum."

Gray said nothing but wondered just how sadistic the woman could really be. Not only did she want him dead, she wanted to kill him herself. How such a small unassuming woman could be so ominous was frightening in and of itself.

Opening the door and stepping out of the car, Gray immediately felt _strange_. For some inexplicable reason, she felt as if she were being drawn in one specific direction. Following that direction with her eyes only led her to the corner of another building across the street. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out, was the source further away?

A muffled voice spoke from within her cloak but Gray heard it perfectly. "This place is interesting."

"What do you sense?" she murmured, trying not to alert Reines' to the conversation.

Add hummed while sniffing audibly. "It smells familiar."

Turning as the door on Reines' door slammed shut, Gray softly tapped where Add was hanging to quiet him down. With a deep inhale, the girl looked around in interest. "The air here is saturated with mana. Gray, are my eyes red?"

Examining her face, all Gray could see was piercing blue. Relaying as much, the shorter woman only hummed in thought. "So it's inactive. Could it really all be natural?"

Gray tried to see what Reines' was talking about but nothing beyond the directional tugging really stood out. No, that wasn't entirely accurate. If she concentrated hard enough, she could catch a whiff of death and curses a short distance away. Something was off about the entire city, but she couldn't quite determine _what_ exactly.

She had felt a similar, albeit weaker tug on her mind before, but when and with who had it been? "Are you hungry, Gray?" Turning on her heels, she found Reines peering down the street as if transfixed by something. Opening her mouth to speak, a soft gurgle from her stomach voiced her opinion on her behalf. "Splendid, why don't we try the local cuisine?"

There was nothing better to do. She wouldn't be able to determine what that slight tugging of her mind was leading towards while escorting Reines. Though, she could subtly lead her in that direction with a bit of convincing.

Maybe such diversions were best suited to morning, when she would be able to enact her plan.

… … …

… … …

Shirou hadn't slept a wink. Not only did he not want to, Archer had given him a lot to work through in both memories and weapons. He was already going through excessive personal conflict so he kept his mind busy by analyzing and categorizing Archer's noble phantasms; unpacking the servant's memories could wait for another day.

It wasn't too difficult to determine each weapon's use, considering he could just examine the weapon's history and determine previous applications either by the owner or the servant itself. Shirou ended his studies around five in the morning with Gram, though it wasn't the same as the one he had recalled from Berserker. Instead of being a demonic blade of translucent crimson, the blade was simple and no-nonsense. It was visually indiscernible from any of the countless other steel blades in his possession, though there was a large amount of mystery associated with it due to age.

Comparing the blades returned similar results but with entirely different history. The only conclusion was that the blade had been broken and reforged into the demonic weapon that had nearly killed him and his servants. Repressing a shudder as the man who wielded such a powerful thing entered his mind, Shirou hoped that he wouldn't have to battle him again.

From what he could decipher, Gram and Excalibur were diametrically opposed blades. Demonic and holy, both converted mana into a heat that could be released in a concentrated blast. What concerned Shirou was Gram's inherent increase in power due to its age - its mystery. Could Saber really defeat Berserker if he went all out against her? Would Shirou even have the mana to support the servant if she tried to match him?

Remembering the crest Illya gifted him, the question became moot; though he did wonder about the efficiency losses of going from her reserves, to his, to Saber. Running a hand through his hair and feeling the slight crispiness, he decided to have a quick shower before going downstairs and making breakfast. He was mobile enough and cooking would help to relax his mind a touch more.

Stepping out of the shower, he investigated his body in the mirror as he typically did. Because of Avalon, the injuries from his confrontation with Archer had healed without a sign that they had ever even happened. The only scar which remained was the one contracted by reattaching his severed arm. An obvious line of darkened flesh showing visible signs of necrosis. Oddly enough, a deeper inspection using his own fingers and tracing revealed the flesh to be living tissue despite its appearance. Considering it a permanent scar he would just have to live with, Shirou activated his circuits to examine his progress there.

The soft blue of his crest began at the base of his neck and rapidly grew up to form a collar and down along his spine where angular wings sprouted off onto his shoulder blades. The tips of each wing split and continued on over his shoulders onto his front, while the bottom of the central column on his spine had split many times into thin, patternless horizontal lines. The progress of his crest had lept greatly since the last time he examined himself. Was that an additional effect of his reality marble or something else?

Turning to face the mirror, the boy shocked himself. The last he'd checked, only a single line ran along his pectorals from his shoulder blades. The former ends of each ribbon had exploded to imitate fractures upon glass, though the two sides were connected by an odd sigil on the center of his chest. Reminded of what he witnessed last night, it was some sort of magecraft which allowed him to share Illya's mana reserves. Seeing as it linked the two sides of his chest, had it caused the ribbons to fractalize like they had?

Tracing one line with his finger, he contemplated asking Rin but decided against it. She wouldn't believe him if he told her his crest was expanding, let alone if he told her there was some sort of interference between his expanding crest and whatever she had given him that allowed a connection.

Finishing up with cleaning himself, he redressed in clean, projected clothing and navigated out of his room and down the stairs. After moving around and using his circuits, he could honestly say he felt better than he had in the past week. Despite fighting to near death just a few hours ago and staying up all night, his body moved without pain and his senses were clear. Maybe it had been a combination of Avalon and a jumpstart to his magical circuits, but he could easily take on Archer again if the servant had any wise ideas.

Hitting the main floor, he walked across the hardwood into the kitchen. Knowing Rin wouldn't mind if he borrowed some supplies, the boy prepared his working area and conjured up a meal he could make with what was on hand.

After consulting the fridge and the catalogue of recipes in his mind, Shirou decided to pull some foreign influence into making a savoury start to the day. Shakshuka: Eggs poached in tomato sauce with complimenting bulb vegetables like garlic and onion tied together with warm, fragrant spices. He didn't have the amount to make enough to fill everyone who would eat, but he could make at least one portion for each person.

Preparing to plate the dish, he paused to head back upstairs and wake Illya. He also projected a set of fresh clothes for her as well, assuming that she wouldn't want to wear the same attire so many days in a row.

When he returned downstairs, a decidedly depressed-looking Rin in pyjamas sat leaned entirely over the table. Shirou wondered if she had woken up, stumbled down to the kitchen to the scent of food and then subsequently passed out. Moving closer, he reached out to wake her up but noticed something off. Her hair was cut short and she wasn't wearing the bows which formed her usual pigtails.

He knew something he had done had cut off one of her pigtails, but was such a drastic change really necessary? With closed eyes the girl murmured, "It's rude to stare."

Straightening as he was discovered, Shirou averted his eyes and moved to plate breakfast only to bump into Saber. Like a ghost, she had snuck up alongside him while he was focused on Rin and her petite stature had made her practically invisible.

Looking up along his entire body, she nodded once their eyes met. "You seem to be doing much better, I'm glad."

He examined his own hands as if personally unsure on how he was feeling. He wasn't in pain anymore and he lacked any injury, but something still wasn't quite right. Articulating the fingers of the arm that had been severed, he realized that his fingertips still lacked prominent feeling. He supposed that was just a cost associated with the reattachment which wasn't all that much, considering.

"Shirou?" His name was enough to pull him from his own thoughts. "Perhaps you're not doing as well as I thought."

"No, no I'm fine I just had a thought was all."

Her eyes sharpened partly, but they weren't quite to the point of accusing. "Was it about breakfast?"

Shirou couldn't help but snort. "You must be hungry," he rightfully assumed if her nod was any indication. "I couldn't make as much as you're probably used to, but you can eat some of it alright?"

Saber seated herself beside Rin with barely contained energy. For someone so reserved and dignified, she had a way of acting so childish at the same time and that was enough to amuse him. To ensure Rin was listening, he softly tapped against the side of her head which elicited a soft noise of comprehension. "Did you want coffee?"

"Tea," was the only word he got back.

Soft footfalls sent his head turning to find a dressed Illya stumbling into the kitchen. She was well timed if nothing else. "I'll have everything ready in a minute, did you want to call Lancer in, Saber?"

Shaking her head, the servant planted both hands on the table ahead of her. "Keeping one's senses open to gain an advantage is key to finding success as a knight." Saber's words were one of a wise mentor but Shirou knew her real goal. If Lancer wasn't there, she could claim his portion as her own. If he complained, she would likely claim it as a king's conquest or something of the sort.

Because of Rin's aversion to modern technology, she didn't have an electric kettle which meant he had to boil water on the stove. While not a problem exactly, it took longer and was less convenient. After setting it up, he dished out the meal for Illya, Saber, Rin and finally, himself.

While eating, he informed those present of his plan to leave, but didn't let Rin know exactly why they were leaving. Illya had to be back at the house for Missy to collect her at eight sharp. Being just shy of six and with a half-hour or more of travel between the two locations, they had plenty of time.

Still somewhere between being asleep and awake, Rin managed to eat her meal and ask, "Are you going to come back?"

Shirou considered the question for a long while. "Is Archer going to try and kill me again?"

She paused, but it was likely because she was listening to his response. While Shirou couldn't see the servant with his eyes, he knew by Saber's glances around the room that he was indeed nearby. "He says it would be foolish for him to try again. Something about you already beating him and recovering so quickly," the girl flapped her hand as if not entirely interested.

Finished with her meal, Rin slid the plate forward and wrapped both hands around an offered cup of tea as if it were the sole salvation of her life. With the last person finished eating, Shirou gathered up the discarded dishes and migrated them to the sink to wash.

It had been quite a few days since he was able to cook. Between the War and recovering from injuries, he had been unable to even stand inside a kitchen. It was comforting to make a return to something he knew and understood. "Then I might. Let's not confirm anything right now."

Making a small huff as she drank her tea, Rin agreed that it would be best not to set anything in stone and left the matter at that.

"I believe it would be a wise idea to have Lancer remain while we are away, Shirou." Saber's suggestion had come out of nowhere.

"Why is that?"

"If you cannot recall, you injured Rin's servant and have rendered him incapable of defending against an enemy. If we are truly working together, ensuring she has some defence would be appropriate."

Finishing up with cleaning, he couldn't deny his oversight. He hadn't considered that Rin was practically servantless. Such a thought did raise other questions though. If Shirou's own recovery was so quick, why hadn't Archer's been the same?

Shirou couldn't repair or regenerate his body with mana and he was reliant on Avalon to fix what was broken. If Archer really was a future version of himself, why wasn't he able to heal rapidly like he was? Perhaps it had something to do with his contract with Saber. He had thought that Rin's status as a first-rate magus and even a residual healing factor with proximity to Saber would have been enough to heal the servant but obviously he had been wrong.

"That's fine, Lancer can remain here and if we don't come back to stay he'll have to keep protecting Rin until Archer is back in shape." Nodding with the plan, Shirou grew concerned over a particularly tired-looking Illya. Landing a hand on her head to run through her hair, he asked if she was feeling alright.

Humming in agreement, she blinked as if to clear the sleep from her eyes. "You used a lot of my mana last night, I'm just a little tired from trying to regenerate it." Shirou started to apologize but the girl lifted her hand to stop him prematurely. "It will restore itself in time. So long as it helps you stay alive I'm willing to give as much as you want."

Uncertain of how to feel about such a sentiment, Shirou awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "Well as long as you're alright with it. My magecraft can get pretty expensive so your help makes it much easier."

"I think I know first hand how expensive it can be after last night," the girl claimed dryly. "Whatever that last attack was used more than half of my total reserves."

"What?" The outburst had originated from a suddenly awakened Rin who was staring at the two with shock. "But your reserves are ridiculous, how could one of his spells be that expensive?"

Three sets of eyes looked toward him for an answer. The best he could offer was a soft shrug, so that was precisely what he did. "You idiot!" Rin shouted, face shaking off its tiredness as her anger rose. "If you used that sort of attack without Illya supporting you it would have instantly killed you." Taking in Shirou's absent stare, the woman gripped the sides of her head in frustration. "God and it's like you don't even care. The two of you are so stubborn it actually hurts."

Growling to herself, Shirou didn't know how to respond. He knew he was stubborn, but he also knew what he needed to accomplish. If something important required his own death, he'd likely be willing to make that sacrifice.

While Rin steamed over his stubborn selflessness, Shirou felt a tugging on his shirt sleeve. Turning his head, he spotted Saber who motioned for him to accompany her. Following her lead into another room, the servant stared up into his eyes with deadly seriousness. "I apologize for doubting your ability in the past. The fact that you exist as a servant proves that I misjudged you." Blinking, Shirou's mind hit a wall as he comprehended Saber's words. He was so distracted by her that he couldn't speak or stop her from bowing forward in apology.

Mind and tongue connected simultaneously and Shirou reached out to exclaim that an apology wasn't necessary. "You were just being protective. You don't have to worry, really." While he was thankful she would start to recognize his ability, there was no need for her to be so apologetic.

Continuing to keep her head down, the servant continued. "That may be so, however it is foolish for me to think of you as lesser when you obviously have the strength to handle yourself against a servant."

Shirou wondered what the entire point of him battling Lancer was some time ago if not to prove he was capable of fighting a servant. It was probably best to pick and choose his battles though. "Fine, I accept your apology, thank you." Saber was a stubborn woman, and her conviction toward her own ideology was absolute; accepting was just easier overall.

So long as she wouldn't keep holding him back as she had been, he was more than happy to let her believe whatever she wanted. Scratching the back of his neck as Saber offered a short smile, Shirou decided that they should leave early before Rin tried berating him further.

… … …

… … …

The docks were in ruins. Warehouses and businesses were destroyed beyond recognition, turning into scraps of brick, mortar and wood all charred and covered in soot. Some of the damage was still smouldering, requiring the fire department to quash the flames. It was as if a war had hit Fuyuki and massive shells had bombarded the area.

Examining the severe damage as she walked by, Rin couldn't help but speak aloud. "It's very strange. Why hasn't the Overseer _done anything?_ None of the incidents across town have been covered up for the non-magus, they're trying to explain it without any help. They aren't even being supplied with additional support for repairs."

After sealing the holes bored straight through her manor, Rin had followed the line Shirou's attack had made to find others in her situation. Without magic, they were far less fortunate in the repair side of things. Even worse, one of the houses had been sectioned off by the Fuyuki police department as a crime scene. Judging by the ambulance present, someone had been hurt or killed.

She wasn't going to let Shirou know about something like that. Rin could tell that he had more than enough on his mind. Killing an innocent might just be too much for him. "Perhaps they have been killed?" The voice of Lancer brought her back to her walk. Due to Archer's condition, Lancer was acting as her servant for the time being.

"Why would someone try to kill the Overseer? Besides, if she had been killed, the Church would have stepped up and investigated. During the Grail War, the Overseer has to check in with the main body of the Holy Church specifically to prevent a dead Overseer going unnoticed."

"So because we haven't heard anything, we can rest assured she is alive," Lancer concluded.

Archer's voice echoed in her mind. _"If the Overseer in this War is Kirei Kotomine's daughter, perhaps she is too inexperienced to know what is needed of her_. _"_

"That might be a good explanation, Archer, but all Overseers are instructed of their obligations prior to their placement. Before taking over Fuyuki church, Caren would have been instructed and trained." Rin squinted her eyes and deliberated over possibilities as she walked on autopilot toward the Church.

She had told herself she would investigate the oddity if nothing was handled by morning. The outcome had been preordained in a sense. Because it would have made her life easier if the Overseer had started doing her job, they _just had_ to do absolutely nothing. As if her life wasn't difficult enough handling a boyfriend on the verge of self-destruction and a servant who had already gone past that point only to decide his own former life wasn't worth existing.

Even the thought of Archer's rationale was enough to get her steamed. She knew Shirou was an idiot, but Archer really took it to the furthest extreme. His entire goal was futile and he was too thick-headed to even see or understand such a fact. Maybe it wasn't the possibility of being removed that drove him, but the pure enjoyment from killing a younger version of himself?

Rin couldn't say either way without knowing just how twisted Archer was. Hopefully Shirou's victory last night would be enough to dissuade him somehow, or show him that Shirou was different.

She supposed she could ask. " _Are you still going to kill Shirou Emiya?"_

There was silence. Rin wondered if he would answer the question at all though that hardly came as a surprise. Archer had misinformed her upon their first meeting, so why would he stop now? " _There is no need for me to continue pressing this Shirou. We are fundamentally different and our lives end in opposing directions. Your Shirou Emiya is already far more broken than I ever was."_

Rin couldn't stop the jolt of shock that coursed through her body. " _What do you mean he's more broken?"_

The silence within her mind was more concerning than she cared to admit. Not only because Archer seemingly knew far more than she did, but because his voice had been so hollow and _serious_. What did he mean by _broken?_ If Archer thought of someone else as being more broken than himself, it was anything but good.

She knew they were different, but it was a matter of how different they were and where the differences lay. Trying to piece together both things, Rin didn't realize how much time had passed before she was standing outside of the Church doors getting an odd look from Lancer. "Are we going inside?"

Returning to the matter at hand and affirming the question, Rin pressed open the church doors and entered a dimly lit, but otherwise normal main hall.

A small woman's head peaked out from behind a podium and a saddened-looking set of golden eyes peered through the darkness. The first time Rin had entered, she had been sleeping behind the podium. Oddly enough, she was wide awake now. "Greetings, master of Archer. I see you've also brought Lancer along with you; how interesting."

Rin narrowed her eyes, trying to peer at the girl's finer details. It was difficult with the darkened environment but Rin was certain she was wearing additional clothing. Something was wrapped tight around her neck and she kept gloved hands tucked purposefully into the flowing sleeves of her robes.

With a soft noise of feigned surprise, Rin held short at the first line of pews and ran her finger along its surface. "So you're alive then, I was beginning to have my doubts." Rin purposefully ignored the priestess' attempt at getting a rise out of her. It wasn't her business who escorted her anyway.

The girl's head tilted to one side. "What does that mean?"

"There hasn't been any sort of response to all the destruction and disturbance for days now, I was beginning to think some sort of foul play had killed off the Overseer." Examining her fingers and rubbing them together as if inspecting for dust, Rin continued speaking while staring at her fingers. "After all, if what I hear is correct, something of a similar sort happened in the previous war." Without moving her head, the girl glanced toward the priestess to gauge her response.

Caren didn't even blink and her emotionless voice chimed in immediately. "You are correct in a limited sense. Though your information is lacking and the true circumstances surrounding the outcome far exceed you."

The cold response was striking but Rin maintained her composure. Her goal of setting the priestess on edge to try and glean information wasn't working as intended. In fact, it seemed to be on the edge of blowing up in her face. Facing her directly, Rin narrowed her eyes and tried to determine what her senses were telling her. "You still have yet to explain the lack of intervention on damages throughout Fuyuki. Last night, the docks were totally destroyed. Today reporters are all over it trying to determine the cause."

Caren carefully tucked both hands beneath the podium at her front. "I understand your concern as Second Owner but are you really in a place to be questioning the jobs of others?" Rin felt a twitching urge within her face but repressed it enough to remain neutral. "There is no risk I can see of magecraft being discovered by the normal people. Should masters keep servant battles to the late hours of the night, exposure will be limited."

Rin clenched her hands. "The Overseer is _supposed_ to provide manpower and monetary support to accelerate the speed of repairs."

"What need would there be to repair that which might be broken again in the near future? I feel as if it is better to wait until all risk of damage is gone before organizing anything, don't you agree?"

Rin grit her teeth but still held back any indication of her anger. "You don't care about any possible casualties that might be a result of a servant's actions? What will you do when they start asking questions?"

"If or when it happens, I will handle the situation and defuse it accordingly." Caren's responses were clipped and concise but there was obvious truth to them at the same time. Before she could respond, Caren continued. "With so many questions, it would only be polite for you to answer one of mine: What are you doing with Lancer at your side?"

There was no way Rin could spin a story that would lead Caren into believing she and Shirou weren't working together. Seeing no way out of it, Rin admitted as much and added, "There was a complication between my servant and Shirou which meant I had to use Lancer as protection for the time being."

"Interesting, so the three great knight classes are all working together. Combined they make an almost unbeatable set regardless of quality. Even so, everything thought to be unbreakable has a weak point." The golden eyes in the darkness sharpened to accusing pinpoints.

"Is that a threat?" Lancer spoke from behind her and based on his tone of voice the question was anything but friendly.

The priestess softly closed her eyes and shook her head. "Not at all, just an observation. Master of Archer, I doubt you came here solely to question my decision-making ability so what is your real question?"

Rin had many questions of course but only one really concerned her. Her father had offered guidance in magecraft but he had done little to educate her in the operation of the overall Grail War. The Tohsaka family records also lacked any definite detail of other family magecraft and something didn't quite add up.

"How exactly is the Grail given physical form?"

… … …

The car was almost out of view already. As they had planned, Missy arrived to pick up Illya at eight sharp and it had been sharp. Like clockwork, Illya had entered the car and drove off to some unspecified safehouse. Kiritsugu had given him the general address but the actual location was a mystery. At least he could try to find some comfort in knowing she was out of Fuyuki, free from danger and risk of absorbing servant souls. In the new unknown location, she would be safe, especially under the guard of Missy and Kiritsugu.

Touching his chest, he could still feel a residual heat from the crest he was borrowing. Was it just a permanent feature of his body now? Would he be able to draw from her reserves forever?

Closing his eyes and looking inward, the circuitry of his body came alive. He didn't really have the chance the night prior to investigate any changes in any capacity. He was more or less tossed in a fire and expected to survive. Either way, his concern was misplaced as his circuitry appeared perfectly fine. In fact, it appeared better than ever. It was as if something had refined their flow, increased their efficiency and let their full potential shine. Had his contact with Archer done more than just increase the size of his arsenal?

Something did stand out to him though. Beyond the circuitry, there was a gleaming golden light that pulsed in a soft rhythm like a heartbeat. The last time it had reacted in such a way, it had been trying to direct him toward Gray. What was it trying to tell him now?

Something poked at his shoulder and brought him to reality. Turning his head, he spotted Saber staring at him with concern. "You continue going into deep thought. If what I had to say was not that important, I would have left you to it."

Saber was always serious but her tone was especially so in the moment. "What is it?"

He wasn't entirely sure, but she seemed tense. "I do not know how much your father spoke of the Fourth War, but after last night I have all the pieces necessary to fully understand that War's Caster." She paused as if struggling to word what was in her mind. "I had my suspicions, but Archer confirmed that he was another iteration of you."

Shirou blinked, reran her words through his ears and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean Caster was another version of me? Kiritsugu never told me about anything like that."

Saber shrugged subtly. "I cannot say for certain, but it was likely kept secret to protect you until this point. I doubt hearing about your servant status would have done you very well in earlier years."

Sighing, Shirou ran a hand through his hair. "At this point I don't know if it was the right decision or not, but I don't like the fact that he held back the information."

"If he was willing to hold back something so important, what else is Kiritsugu keeping secret?" Saber's comment struck hard and made the boy question what he really knew.

"I trust Kiritsugu Emiya enough to do everything in his power to protect Illya, however, I cannot say the same for his overall decisions or tactics. If I am to be blunt, he is a deceitful man that will do whatever is necessary to achieve his own personal goal."

Making another soft noise, Shirou began walking toward the house. He needed a fresh, _real_ set of clothes before he could do anything and with his proximity to the house, no better time existed. "He's always tried to do what was best for me, so you'll have to excuse me if I say I don't believe you."

Coupled with Saber's following footsteps came a soft aggravated huff. "I cannot understand how you have missed such clear evidence. The man has trained you from such a young age to become what is essentially a living weapon. He's groomed you specifically to follow his guidance solely so that you would not be disbelieving of his word." Shifting behind him he could tell she was desperate to get him to change his mind. "Consider the night at the Einzbern Castle. Had you not followed your father in an attempt at ambushing Rider and her master, you may have never been put under her control and Illya would not have been harmed."

Opening the door, Shirou abruptly stopped within the frame at the mention of his sister. Closing his eyes tight and squeezing the edge of the door in his hand, Shirou felt weightless. Keeping his voice low, he murmured out a question. "Then what do you want me to do? Do you want me to disregard everything he's ever told me and try to be everything he isn't?" The boy slowly twisted his head to look at his servant over his own shoulder.

Taking a soft breath, Saber seemed conflicted. "I believe the best decision is to forge your own path. Take control of your life and prevent outside influence from guiding you."

Facing forward, Shirou couldn't stop a comment from spewing out of his mouth. "Just like you did when you drew Caliburn." He didn't even have to look back to know she flinched. The comment was scathing solely because her own words contradicted her life.

After drawing that sword, she had been guided by everything but herself. He had seen it in the history of her sword and within the odd bouts of history taught to him through dreams. She had obviously forgotten the fact that as master and servant, they could see the other's past like an open book.

Though maybe such a thing explained why she was so concerned about him.

Firing out an apology as quickly as he had commented, Shirou took a step inside and removed his shoes. "I just wasn't thinking straight, I'll try to think for myself instead of following the old man's advice, alright?"

Responding with a silent, obviously hurt nod, Saber waited for him to step inside before following suit and removing her shoes prior to walking further inside. "Since we're here, did you want some more breakfast before we head back? I've got a bunch of food stocked up and I'd rather it not go to waste."

"I eagerly await," was Saber's only response. While she moved to the dining room, Shirou trailed through the halls to the bathroom first so he could wash himself of whatever grime and sweat he managed to accumulate so far. After conducting basic hygiene for the day, Shirou dressed in real clothing and migrated to the kitchen to cook another meal for his servant. If he were being honest, he hadn't really had enough to eat with the limited supplies at Rin's home.

Whipping together another meal that was inhaled by both Saber and himself, Shirou used the time when both mouths were filled to think about Saber's comments. Did his father really have his best interests in mind? Was Saber right in questioning Kiritsugu's motives?

There was doubt. Doubt not only in the fact that his father might not be leading him down the correct path, but doubt in Saber herself. Why would she try to distance the two if not to inject her own morality into his mind?

Did she know something Shirou didn't? Kiritsugu was never a perceptive man when it came to things that weren't concerned with combat or assassin work, but his skill in social activities was definitely lacking. On the other hand, Saber wasn't all that good socially either. She neglected her knights and the hearts of her people, ultimately leading to the ruin of her entire kingdom.

But, she had a window into the deepest part of his mind, a glimpse far more intrusive than any other person he knew. Not even Rin or Illya, two people he would admit anything to, could see as much as Saber could.

Finishing the meal and tidying his created mess, Saber made an odd noise as if confused. Asking what was wrong, the woman furtively tightened her eyes. "I don't know to be honest but my instincts tell me something is off." Peering down at her own hands, the servant examined them in close detail. "I've never felt anything like this before."

Finishing up with his cleaning, Shirou felt a sense of unease himself. Was Avalon feeling the same sensation she was? "What could be causing it?"

Shaking her head, the woman decided that her hands held no answers. "I have no idea, but I hope it reveals itself soon."

An awkward silence descended upon the room and Shirou elected to change the subject to do _something_ productive. "I think I'm feeling good enough to head out tonight, but I'm not entirely sure what we should do. We've met all of the servants and their masters, though we haven't spoken directly to some of them. We could start there and see about getting everyone to start thinking."

"Shirou, if your goal is to put an end to the Grail War, would it not be easier to kill the other servants rather than try to convince their masters into cooperation?"

Shirou settled into a seated position across from his servant before shooting her an odd look. She would rather fight to the death than speak or try to convince someone. "I'd rather we try the way that results in the lowest possibility of death or murder before resorting to fighting."

The servant was pensive, he could see it clearly written on her face. She didn't believe that it was possible for the other masters to be convinced to cooperate even for a moment. "If that is the path you wish to take then I am obligated to follow you."

Shaking his head, Shirou closed his eyes softly. "That's now what I want to hear. You were once king of a country. You brought together land formerly thought to be irreconcilable. You've had experience with this sort of thing, so I'd like to hear your honest opinion on whether or not we can get this to work."

Opening his eyes, the boy extended an open hand. "I don't think working as master and servant is going to get us very far, so why don't we try to work together as partners - both on equal ground."

Saber eyed his hand and face cautiously before taking the time to remove one of the black gloves covering her hand. Reaching forward with skin bared, the servant held short. It was as if she was reconsidering the entire decision three times over. Eventually she clasped his hand and squeezed with unexpected strength. "I will treat you as an honorary member of the Round Table for now. You may thank Lancelot for aiding in the decision."

Saber offered a cordial smile and Shirou couldn't stop one from forming on his face. "I graciously accept the position. As partners, what do you think about finding Bazett and Caster?"

The servant paused to think, then nodded softly. "Eliminating those two would prove beneficial. Casters grow stronger and are more difficult to defeat the longer they have to prepare."

Shirou obstinately shook his head. "I don't want to kill them, I want to convince them."

Scowling at his comment, Saber pursed her lips. "Regardless of which route is taken, how do you propose we find them?"

"Well if I know Bazett as well as I think I do, it should be easy."

… … …

… … …

"Sometimes it pays to work at a bar." Peering up at the sign one more time, Shirou turned the doorknob and pushed the windowless door open. Immediately, thick fumes of potent alcohol struck his nose and the surprisingly loud noises of bustling patrons followed. The bar was absolutely packed with people all violently intoxicated. It was far more active than Shirou had ever seen it, making him wonder what the special occasion was. Peering above the heads of numerous people, he spotted Neko behind the bar and several familiar waitresses hurriedly tending to customers.

"Are you sure she is here?" Saber's uncertain voice chimed in from behind. "I do not sense any servants within."

Nodding, Shirou scanned the heads of every person. How difficult could it be to find a woman with burgundy hair? "Neko told me two foreigners started drumming up business the past few days. One, a woman with burgundy hair and the other, a man with long blue hair. Caster's probably concealing himself somehow"

"You aren't afraid of starting a fight?"

"The sun isn't even fully down and this place is full of people." True to his word, someone nearly spilled their beverage on him while trying to move through the crowd. "We'll be fine." His arm was caught by something at his side. Looking at the source, he discovered Himari, one of Neko's reserve waitresses. Obviously the owner had pulled all of her staff on shift except him; though he had requested time off for the War so it was to be expected.

She was of moderate height, five foot seven, and of slim build though it was especially top-heavy and clothes straining. With shoulder-length black hair and large glimmering, dark eyes she was rather attractive. Despite being a part-timer and only on call for busy nights, she was especially popular with the younger men.

With a bright grin the girl tugged him closer toward the bar. "Emiya, what are you doing here?" She spared a glance at Saber who was imitating a fish out of water. "And who's the blonde bombshell you brought with you? I'd ask if she was your mistress but that doesn't really explain the fancy suit she's wearing." It was difficult to hear with all the noise around them but Shirou was able to reinforce his ears to pick out the voices of specific people.

Raising his voice somewhat so she would hear, he began to explain a half-truth. "She's a friend of my father's. I really just came here-"

"To have a drink with your coworkers," she finished on his behalf. With a sharp tug, he was yanked through the crowd by the busty woman. "And before you start with your _I don't drink_ stuff, you owe us all after you flaked on Neko's birthday." Sighing softly, the boy decided that he was going to be dragged along regardless of his own desires.

Ensuring Saber was staying somewhat close, Shirou found himself seated at the last open bar stool. "Oh Neko," she cooed. "Look who's decided to come in for a cold stiff drink!"

While Himari danced off to serve the other customers, Shirou was left under supervision of Neko and her wide beaming smile. "Of all the people I could have expected to walk through that door, you were the last one, Emiyan." Her eyes flickered off his face and her head quickly followed. "And you've brought a handsomely dressed woman with you no less." Offering him a look that was questioning, lecherous and condemning all at once, Neko let out a soft laugh. "Just what are you up to?"

Scratching one of his temples, Shirou considered how to explain it all. "I'm really just looking for those two foreigners we spoke about. I've got something important to discuss with them." A tugging at his sleeve turned him toward Saber who was staring toward the back of the room intently.

Following her eyes, he struggled to see what was so interesting. As he spotted the two unique hair colours, Neko's voice reached his ears. "I don't really know what they're made of, but the two have come here every night for the past few days to drink the place dry." Surely enough, Shirou could see Bazett seated at a table draining a bottle while squinting accusatively at one of the other patrons. He couldn't hear at a distance with all the noise swirling around his ears but he could tell the two were in an argument of sorts. "Stick around long enough and you can watch her beat the biggest boys in town at arm wrestling."

Bazett slammed her empty bottle on the table and stood upright before jabbing an accusative finger toward the man she had been speaking to. Saber's voice reached his mind rather than his ears. " _Shirou, what is your plan?"_

Narrowing his eyes as he watched the suit-clad woman and a large-armed man settle down with their arms propped up on the table, Shirou turned toward Neko. "Get them a round on me and let me carry it over."

Nodding softly, the bar owner went to work while Shirou returned to watching the development. Sure enough as Neko had predicted, Bazett and the strange man were locking hands in preparation for an arm wrestle. If he were judging on size of person alone, he would have expected the man to flip Bazett over but he knew better than to judge off appearances. If anything, Bazett would be the one to flip the man on his head.

With a soft clink, the drinks Shirou had ordered were placed behind him on the bar. Taking hold, the boy stood and started weaving through the crowd in Bazett's direction. " _It's customary to offer a small gift before enemies try to work out a truce, isn't it?"_

There was a soft " _go_ " before the man's entire body tensed in futile struggle against Bazett's grip. The woman hadn't moved, no, that was incorrect. She hadn't even fully tightened her hand against his, yet he was struggling to displace her arm a millimetre.

Getting closer, he could pick out the subtle Irish tones of Bazett's inebriated voice. "Those arms full of shite or are you trying to go easy on me?" The challenge made the man grit his teeth and double down in frustration but Bazett was unmoving. The woman drummed her fingers and tightened her grip to produce a noise of pain from her opponent. With an aggressive smirk, the woman slowly, but smoothly, turned the man's arm until his knuckles touched the table.

Snatching his hand away, the man grumbled something and rubbed at his arm before standing and backing away like a whipped dog. "Make sure to bulk up before coming back!" The taunt as he left precluded a pan of the head in search of a waitress.

When Bazett's eyes landed on Shirou, he could watch all of the drunkenness vanish from her face. Her jaw and fists tightened simultaneously and Caster behind her stiffened in tandem. Lifting his hand to flash the held drinks did little to calm them. Regardless, the boy sat across from his former mentor and waited until Saber seated herself across from the rival servant.

Settled in place, Shirou gathered a lengthy look at Caster. He was wearing a different outfit than the one Shirou had seen him in outside of Luvia's mansion. He still wore the flowing, oversized pants in cerulean but his top was clothed with a revealing black tank top.

To say Shirou was a little uncomfortable being stared at like prey by Caster's crimson eyes was an understatement. It was as if he had stumbled into a wolf den with his arms tied behind his back. "Master of Saber and Lancer," he greeted dryly. "Don't take offence if I examine the contents before either of us try to drink this."

Lifting up his hands, Shirou silently accepted. "I wanted to speak with you about the War."

"Here I thought you wanted to talk about women or other great life quandaries. In reality all you want to discuss is the Grail War." Caster took hold of both beverages and gently drew on the side of the glass in foreign script. After a moment, he took a small drink from one and slid the other in his master's direction. Caster leaned halfway over the table and rested his head upon one hand to appear even more disinterested. It was odd, but Shirou thought his movements were stiff as if the man was in pain. "You know, I wouldn't have really minded a conversation about the former."

"Caster, please allow our masters to speak." Saber's chilling retort was met with a soft snort from the man.

"Believe it or not, Saber, you and I are people too. We aren't just weapons to be used by our masters." Caster's eyes sharpened as he glared at the small blonde. Watching the servant's mannerisms, Shirou could practically guarantee he was in pain. Had he been injured in a fight recently?

Shirou felt the woman beside him tense up in frustration. Before she could speak, a hand landed on Caster's shoulder. "Quiet down, weapon. You've managed to track me down," Bazett paused and scratched at an itch on her neck. "Though it wasn't as if I was hiding all that much. Anyway, you've come for a reason so spit it out."

The enforcer was always blunt and Shirou was thankful for it - for once. "I'd like for us to stop fighting." The bemused expression on Bazett's face was anything but good. "It's complicated and there's no way for me to describe it all to you but this Grail War is a lie and it needs to be shut down - permanently."

Saber's head shifted in his direction so quickly that he wondered if it had flown off her shoulders. "Shirou-"

Caster laughed loudly once. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care if you do. All I care about is whether you'll work with me to put an end to it." Shirou shot back just as fast.

Caster laughed insultingly once again but as his mouth opened, Bazett interjected. "If I didn't know you as well as I did, I'd be laughing just like Caster. You aren't the sort of kid that lies for no reason."

Caster hoisted his head from his hand to give Bazett an incredulous look. "You're going to believe this shit?"

The woman shook her head. "I haven't bought into it fully, but he's captured my attention. Hey, kid, since you're here I might as well ask how you recovered after the last time we met. I knew you were hard to handle but I didn't expect you could handle Caster on your own so well."

Every pre-planned thought in Shirou's mind ground to a jarring halt. "Wait a minute, what are you talking about? The only time I saw you was outside the Edelfelt manor. Caster and I never fought against each other."

The servant in question made a sharp noise, narrowed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "Now that I look closer, you definitely aren't the same person I fought that night. It's subtle but you don't have the same aura."

Bazett's eyes widened in an instant. "Wait, you're not telling me that guy with the Tohsaka girl was just a look-alike? A _servant_ look-alike? That'd mean you become a servant."

"I don't think that's very important right now; let's focus on the Grail War."

Shirou managed to drive the conversation back on track, though it wasn't steered in the direction he wanted. With an annoyed snort, Bazett took a swig of the gifted beverage before speaking. "I have no interest in talking about a truce or alliance. We're already taken." Taking note of Shirou's expression, she continued. "You've already got two servants on your side, so I had to make an alliance of my own to combat you." The woman's cold eyes narrowed challengingly. "It wasn't anything personal. The odds were against us and I thought it necessary to level things out."

As quickly as it had been brought up, his entire prospect was shut down. Scratching the side of his face, Caster made a loud hum to disrupt the conversation. "Master, this might not be the worst idea. You can't argue that this alliance would have better people to work with."

"I'm not renouncing my word. What we have is fine and it's not my fault you dislike your new partner."

Grumbling to himself, Caster appeared visibly upset. "Normally I wouldn't suggest it, but you _know_ what I think about her."

Shirou quickly surmised that the entire conversation was a waste of time. Bazett wouldn't normally change her mind once it was set on something, but he could try once more. "There's no way I can convince you?" With a shake of the head Shirou's suspicions were confirmed. "Then there's no point staying here." Standing upright, he took the time to tuck in his chair. "Just remember what I said about the Grail War." As suddenly as he arrived, the boy left the table but his mind worked upon the conversation.

Both master and servant left the table together to weave their way back out through the crowd and the exit. Stopping only to offer a farewell wave to Neko, Shirou continued on outside and up the stairs to the street sidewalk.

Checking both directions to ensure they were alone, the boy cursed to himself and took a weighted huff of breath while staring at the sunset. His mind was racing on both the conversation that just transpired and what he would do from his current point. Bazett and Caster, Sakura and Assassin, Caren and Berserker, along with Luvia and Rider were all inaccessible. Every chance to settle things peacefully had been exhausted.

In a few short minutes the night would be upon them and another set of battles would take place in Fuyuki. He was out of pacifist choices and the only option left was to eliminate the other servants. His goal was to put an end to the Grail War to save his friends, but could he do that when one of them was his enemy?

How could he protect Sakura if she was being kept at arm's length by Zouken? Long ago he had made a plan with Caren to get past the old worm, but she was trapped behind the most powerful servant in the War. Why did life have to be so difficult? Couldn't one thing in his life be without struggle or sacrifice?

The voice of his father from years ago echoed in his mind. " _Life is never fair. Count on something going wrong just when things finally start going right."_

It wasn't something he had lived by, nor was it something he had understood when he was younger - but it fit his life in the moment. "Shirou, something is wrong."

His shoulder was gripped and squeezed painfully by his servant. Opening his mouth and turning his head to complain, he spotted the tense concern on her face and thought against it. She had reacted in a similar fashion the first night at the Edelfelt manor. It had been the dragon within her sensing something of dragon-slaying origin on the approach. "Is it Berserker again? He's getting an early start, we'll have to move away if we want to keep the people here safe."

Turning, he twisted out of Saber's grasp and began walking at a quick pace down the street. "This is not the same feeling as that night. It feels as if I remember all of this."

Shirou huffed. Feeling a sense of familiarity was all she was concerned about? "That's called deja vu, everyone gets it sometimes. We might as well leave anyway; we still need to pick up Lancer and staying here is just a waste of time."

"You don't understand," she defied, "this isn't the same."

"I've been here before." The comment had originated from two separate voices in unison. One, from Saber behind him, and the other from around the corner. To make matters stranger, they were similar but distinct in their own way. It was jarring to both parties as everyone silenced themselves in confusion.

Once again two voices spoke at the same time. "Did you hear that?" This time, they were quite obviously different. Shirou and his deeper voice contrasted a much softer woman's voice from around the corner.

Interested in getting to the bottom of things, Shirou peeked around the corner and felt every ounce of blood drain from his head. The yellowish eyes told him nothing, but the perfect platinum-blonde hair, angular face, short height and chilly demeanour told him everything. Reines Archisortie, the woman who toyed with him tirelessly when he was at the Clock Tower. As if her presence wasn't bad enough, Shirou also spotted the unmistakable face of Gray leading the shorter woman.

"Blade?"

"Gray?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked while her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. All at once, things started to make sense. The strange reaction from Avalon, Saber's sense of unease. Her spiritual successor was close enough that she could catch fragments of their life.

Shirou couldn't imagine a worse situation.

The exact person Gray's very soul resonated with was standing behind him, moving to get a view on the newcomers. He couldn't stop it and even if he could, what would be the point? The boy closed his eyes tight, hoping that he was in one of his twisted nightmares or that he would be transported away by some guardian angel.

Unfortunately, neither happened and instead all he received was a sudden inhale through Saber's nose and a gasp from Gray.

At least he wasn't the only one with a doppelganger any longer.

* * *

 **With this chapter over, you can leave your full harshest critique of the battle. It might not have been the best idea to split it up (based on the reviews) across chapters but the cliffhanger was too good to pass up!**

 **Regardless, I appreciate your reviews and everything you all have said. If your complaints from the last chapter still exist, please let me know though I hope they've been quelled.**

 **Finals and the end of my school are over at the end of this week as of posting which means I'm at home and with current circumstances it looks like that's going to be for the foreseeable future. No promises on getting any writing done because of both the problems with writing and the fact that I will be looking for a job and playing video games as you do.**

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